Page 5 of Playing With Forever (Hollow Point #4)

“I wouldn’t think you’re alone in that. I’m not an artist. I can’t draw a stick figure, so I can’t know for sure, but I would think many artists feel colors or, at the very least, the colors on their palette call to them.

But even if you were the only artist in the world who heard a beat while creating or felt something as amazing as feeling the colors around you, that wouldn’t be strange, Lindy, that would simply be what makes you extraordinary. ”

It was rare for old demons to creep up, but when they did, they slammed into me and stole my breath, replacing the oxygen with noxious gas.

I had long ago reconciled my part in the failure of my marriage.

I’d even gone as far as forgiving Lindy’s mother for betraying me and shitting all over our marriage.

What I hadn’t done, and would never do, was forgive her for being a shit mother and abandoning her daughter.

And it was in times like these, when my daughter’s face was slack and her lips were parted and her eyes were unfocused, that I was reminded of the consequences of my daughter not having a mother.

The way Lindy was staring at Josie was not about receiving a compliment.

If there was one thing I knew I didn’t fail at, it was making sure my daughter knew she was loved.

She knew she was immensely talented, smart, beautiful, and I’d worked my ass off to make sure my daughter knew her worth, knew how she should be treated—not only by men but by friends, bosses, and people in general.

Lindy didn’t lack self-confidence, she lacked a female role model because I’d never given her one.

“Thank you,” Lindy whispered.

“No need to thank me for telling you something I’m quite certain you already knew. Now, tell me if you’re enrolled or planning on going to art school.”

“I’m undecided.”

“You have time to decide. Unlike you, my youngest, Kane, had no idea what he wanted after he graduated. He was twenty-two when he decided on a career path.”

I knew from group chatter that Josie had two grown sons. I didn’t know where they lived or what they did for a living.

“Kane’s a cool name,” Lindy excitedly told Josie. “What’d he decide on?”

“Law enforcement,” Josie pushed out, as if the words tasted bad.

“Your son’s a cop?” I asked.

“Of a sort. He started as a patrol sheriff in Camden County. Though recently, he’s moved to CID. I have to admit, as a mother of a law enforcement officer, I much prefer him investigating crimes instead of being on the streets.”

Fuck me, her son was a cop.

“Dad’s a cop.” I didn’t miss the pride in my girl’s tone.

“I knew this,” Josie returned.

Lindy had more to say but suddenly decided against it and instead said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

I’d been a single dad since my girl was seven, I was well-versed in Lindy’s tells. She didn’t have to use the restroom.

She was scheming.

I waited until Lindy was out of earshot before I turned to Josie. I didn’t bother hiding my irritation when I asked, “What the fuck?”

At least Josie had the good sense not to dodge or prevaricate when she answered, “I needed to get my car so I could get to work.”

“Yeah? You think maybe to wake me up so I could take you to your car?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m capable of retrieving my car without help, Evan.”

It took more effort than it should’ve to draw up the patience needed to field that asinine statement.

“That’s not the point, Josie. You snuck out of my bed. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The kind who brings a woman back to his house, spends hours memorizing every inch of her body, gets her off, gets himself off, enjoys the fuck out of both those, falls asleep after she wears him the fuck out, only to wake up and find that woman gone, knowing she had to find her own way home. But more, she had to do that before five in the morning when it’s still dark out.

I’m not that guy—the one who gets off and sends a woman motoring.

But this morning, that’s exactly who you made me. So, I’ll ask you again, what the fuck?”

A deep blush started at her chest and was working its way up her throat. I didn’t want to like the way her pale skin pinkened, and I really didn’t want my cock to perk up and take notice, but damn if I could stop either.

“You’re not that guy,” she told me, losing the antagonism in her tone. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Josie’s gaze went over my shoulder, panic infused, meaning Lindy was on her way back.

I leaned close and told her, “In your rush to leave, you forgot your bra, sweetcheeks.”

Her beautiful blue eyes flared.

I smiled and leaned back.

Our burgers were served.

Josie and Lindy prattled on about a whole slew of topics. I only participated when asked a direct question. Not that the two of them needed my input.

And if the night wasn’t fucked already, after I paid the bill, Josie and Lindy exchanged numbers.

Just to note, I was correct, Josie’s superior ass looked amazing in boot-cut jeans. Though I knew from experience it looked better out of her jeans.