She came downstairs almost an hour later.

I was leaning against the wall by the front door, arms crossed, watching the clock. When she finally appeared I let a slow smirk pull at my mouth.

“I gave you thirty minutes.”

Hazel rolled her eyes, but there was heat behind it. “Thirty minutes is not enough for a woman to get ready, Daddy.”

She had changed into a short black dress that clung to every curve and almost nothing underneath. I didn’t answer. I just opened the door and led her to the car.

The drive to my newly finished apartment was quiet, thick with the kind of tension that made...