Sundays were kind of an off day for Ares. He left the office earlier, took Sparta and Boss Bitch (pregnant again) for a walk, went home to spend some time on his own, gathering himself.
He was stripped to the waist, and he was pulling himself up on a bar he'd installed across a doorway, working up a sweat with each rep, his feet never touching the ground. He was up around 250 when there was a knock on the door.
Nobody knew where he lived. Well, nobody but a trusted few right at the top. Lazarus knew, Lander knew, Calix knew, that was it. And not a one of them would dare knock on his door without forewarning him. Ares dropped to the ground and gave Sparta a quick whistle to be at alert, and then grabbed the sports towel and wiped it across his face and hair as he walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Aphrodite. Looking like sex in that dress too. Ares blew out a breath, signaled his dog to stand down, and opened the door. He looked her up and down. She wouldn't have come wearing something like that if she intended to scream at him (or maybe she would? It was possible.)
"Dite," he said, his voice a gruff, only slightly winded from his exercise.