Foxy In Lingerie (Lingerie 10)

If it was the painter, I’d punch him so hard he’d fly down the stairs. I set my paper down and rose to my feet.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll get—”

“No.” My authority burned through my gaze as I stared at her, my look keeping her pinned into her seat. “I’m the one who answers the door—not you.” I walked across the apartment and approached the front door, unsure who I would be faced with. It was eleven in the morning, too early for a random visitor. I opened the door and came face-to-face with the worst possible person.

Crow.

In a black t-shirt with dark jeans, he looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him. With his tanned skin and masculine features, he was still a good-looking man despite his age. He carried himself like a soldier ready for battle, his muscle tone still impressive because he lifted weights every day of his life. He could never compare to me, not when I had thirty years of youth on my side. We both knew that bullet would have killed him. My strength and vigor were greater, so I survived.

I kept my hand on the knob as I stared at him, watching him stare back at me with the same cryptic expression. I was shirtless and in my sweatpants, my hair slightly messy from rolling around in bed with his daughter, but I wasn’t ashamed of it. I was fucking his daughter every night, but I was also loving her, protecting her, and being the man she deserved.

I thought of the last words I said to him.

Fuck. You.

He hadn’t said anything at the time, but maybe he was ready to say something now.

“Is this a bad time?” His words were anticlimactic. I expected more from him, a fist to the mouth or an insult to the ears.

“No. I’ll get Vanessa.” I turned my back on him, letting him look at all the ink I had all over my body. He hadn’t seen me shirtless before, so now he knew I was completely covered with the skulls, dragons, bullets, and gravestones.

“I’m not here for her.”

I turned back around, my muscles naturally flexing in preparation for a fight. His calmness only made me more suspicious. A part of me wanted him to finally snap and start a fight. I wanted an excuse to hit him, but he had to make the first move—otherwise, it would be a betrayal to Vanessa. “Then what do you want?” If he wanted to continue this conversation on my doorstep, it was tacky. I was handicapped with my woman in the next room.

He still didn’t seem angry, and there wasn’t a gun on his hip or tucked inside his waistband. “A drink—if you’re free.”

He wanted to get a drink with me? It wasn’t too early to hit a bar, not for someone like me. I started drinking as soon as I finished my coffee, and that was around nine in the morning. The only reason I hadn’t already had a glass of scotch was because of my woman. She’d asked me to cut back—and I listened. With her by my side, I didn’t need it anyway, not the way I used to. “A drink?” I asked blankly.

“Yes. It’s not too early, right?” He moved his hands into his pockets. “I know we both start before lunch.”

Most of the time when I was with Crow, he was drinking scotch. It didn’t matter what time of day it was. The only time he seemed to drink wine was when he was with his family. It made me wonder if he even liked it.

He must want to talk about the last conversation we had, but I didn’t think there was anything left to say. “I meant what I said. I won’t apologize for it. You stand by every decision you made until this point. Let’s just leave it alone.”

His expression didn’t change. He used to wear his rage on his face, silently threatening me with his dark eyes full of malice. But now he was a conundrum, impossible to read. He must have done that on purpose. “That’s fine. I still want that drink.”

Then what the hell did he want to talk about?

“I’ll wait for you on the sidewalk.” He took the steps back down then faced the road, his hands still in his pockets.

I finally shut the door and walked back inside.

“Who was that?” Vanessa asked from the table.

“Your father.”

She pushed away her bowl of soggy cereal. “Really? Why didn’t you invite him inside?”

“Because you’re practically naked.”

She looked down at herself, seeing my t-shirt barely hiding her pointed nipples and blue thong.

“And he wants to get a drink.”

She glanced at the time on the microwave. “It’s not even noon.”

“Yes, I know it’s late.”

She narrowed her eyes on my face, not appreciating the joke. “I’ll get dressed, then.”