Page 22 of Property of Scythe
He’s right. I almost pity any motherfucker stupid enough to confront him.
“I need to get home. Mila is waiting on me for her bedtime story.”
“Then get the fuck outta here, Pres. I got this.”
It doesn’t take long to return to my bike and head home. Emma and Mila are watching Frozen when I walk into the living room. My daughter’s wearing her pajamas, which means she’s ready for bed. A task I don’t have to worry about.
“Thanks, Emma. I appreciate you.”
She waves me off as she heads toward the door. “No problem. Enjoy your weekend.”
“Same to you.”
Emma doesn’t work on the weekends unless I need her to babysit. I try not to ask her often since she’s here so much during the week. I hear her car start and watch the headlights disappear down the road before I turn to my little munchkin.
“Hey, princess. Are we ready for a story yet?”
“Yes!” She’s up off the couch and running toward me, the movie forgotten, as I reach down and pick her up. “Swing, Daddy!”
I turn in circles, not too fast, as Mila squeals.
“More!”
“Maybe later. You have school tomorrow.”
She hugs me around the neck, snuggling her soft cheek to mine as we make our way down the hall. I got her settled in, and we read three stories before her eyes finally closed. When I flip off the light, she doesn’t stir.
It’s been a long day, and I pull a beer out of the fridge, settling on the couch as I find something to watch. I’m not much of a TV guy, but since Mila’s been born, I don’t have the desire to get shitfaced or party every night. My daughter is my priority and the only thing that means more to me than my club.
My phone buzzes with a new text. It’s Phantom.
I LOCK UP AND HEADto bed after I finish my beer. Tossing the bottle in the trash, I stretch and head down the hall, pausing to check on Mila. Her even breathing confirms she’s out for the night.
The following morning, Mila is up before the alarm, getting ready without any prompting from me. It’s three days in a row we haven’t had an issue, and I’m hoping it stays that way.
I’m guessing it has something to do with her loving school this year. I’m curious about her answer. As I set a plate in front of her with a couple of sausage links and scrambled eggs, I decide to ask. “How’s school, munchkin?”
She chews her food and swallows before answering, like I taught her. “It’s the bestest, Daddy.”
She describes everything that way lately.
“I have the most friends.”
I chuckle. It doesn’t surprise me. “What about Ms. Bishop? Do you like her?”
Her smile tells me she does. “I love her, Daddy.”
“That’s good. She’s nice, isn’t she?”
“She lets me get chocolate milk at lunch.”
I snort. That’s adorable. My kid loves milk, but chocolate is a rare treat. I guess I don’t mind since she’s so active during the day. “Not every day, okay?”
Mila nods. “Okay, Daddy.”
We finish breakfast, and I drop her off, barely getting a hug before she’s rushing off with her friends.
I try not to stare at Lottie when I see her. It’s not fucking easy. She loves to dress in ways that stir my blood. I never knew I had a kink like this, enjoying all the tight dresses, plaid skirts, and silky shorts she wears. She’s always showing off her curves, but she does it in a classy way.
