Hesitation crossed her face and she glanced over her shoulder, then leaned her head against the door. “You aren’t?”
Johnnie shook his head. “I want to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” She opened the door wider and indicated he enter. “Would you like a drink? I went through a bottle of wine already, so I was thinking about moving to vodka.”
Closing the door behind him, Johnnie said, “If you have Scotch, I’d love a drink.”
“That can be arranged.”
The house wasn’t the palace Kendall had created for Johnnie and their kids. It had warm, earthy colors, more suited to an average suburban house than a family with the type of money Mortician had.
He’d always said he was a simple man. Bailey’s decorations reflected that because she’d considered his tastes when she wasso much classier. Johnnie couldn’t understand what she saw inMortician.
“Follow me,” she said in her sweet voice, a pretty smile curving her lips.
Maybe Johnnie should fuck her to show Mortician and Kendall how such a betrayal felt.
The curve of Bailey’s waist drew Johnnie’s attention to the sway of her hips and the outline of her ass. If she wore anything underneath that robe, it was next to nothing.
In the kitchen, she turned to him, just inches away, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. Her dark hair was swept up but stray strands escaped and prompted Johnnie to tuck the most tempting pieces behind her ear.
She didn’t pull away or ask him to leave.
He smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. She really was fucking exquisite.
“I…have a seat,” she told him. “I’ll get our drinks.”
“All right, sweetheart,” he murmured, following her instructions.
Once he sat, he watched her every move, admired the curve of her slender neck, the movement of her hands, the way her nipples beaded against the silk of her robe.
She set his glass in front of him and then slid into the bench across from him. He almost invited her to sit on his lap.
She was taller than Megan, but shorter than Kendall.
Kendall. His beautiful Kendall. So tall and gorgeous. She hid her fear and pain with anger and antics. Bailey was just falling apart, a woman caught between two worlds, and not truly belonging to either, so she ignored her Black and White sides and existed, pretended she was neither, instead of claiming one.
Had she wanted, she could’ve said she was White and no one would’ve questioned her. It was onlyMorticianwho said she had a little coffee in her cream.
Smiling, Johnnie sipped his drink and eyed her. “How are you, Bailey?”
“I’ve been better,” she said, picking up her own glass, filled with amber liquid, and tasting.
“What happened to your taste for vodka?”
She shrugged. “It’s too much trouble finding the vodka. Besides, Lucas loves it. I only wanted some because I miss him.”
“I understand.”
“I wish you’d never shared with me all that you did. It upset me so much and it just made things worse between me and everyone, especially my husband.”
Johnnie pretended to wince. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“Thank you. I think,” she said, drinking again.
Johnnie laughed. “Honesty is always the best policy.”
“You’re right.”
