Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Though I’d acted in self-defense, the weight of death never left my chest.
How could I force this concern on Montana? He already carried his probation with the Dodgers, the media painting him as a villain. Couldn’t hand him my darkness.
So instead, I followed this man into one of the most diverse arrondissements of Paris. The air smelled like spicy plantains.
He said, “Got a little Tremé in Paris?”
“Tremé?” I smiled.
He tilted his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it. Music in the street, food hitting before you even step inside. This feels like home. NOLA.”
“Oh? Never seen that part of New Orleans. After work, Darius and I stayed inside. Then you kidnapped us.”
His jaw worked—grinding regret. “We gone fix that.”
“Fix what?”
“When we get back, I’ma show you NOLA. You can wear this.” He touched a strand of my wig. “Darius won’t even have to wait in line at Café du Monde.”
“You want to show my son too?” My voice strangled at the thought. I appreciated how he paid attention to Darius. But I thought this dating stuff was private. Just for us.
“Chère, please. Little Dude deserves to see it. Hide those cute toes, and you can come.”
“No. I feel sexy and confident when I put on a pair of heels.” A chuckle escaped me, and I stretched out my leg to show off my new heels.
“I’m not carrying you all day if you step into mysterious yellow street gravy.” Montana’s chuckle rumbled deep enough to make me forget the rest of the weight on my chest. We started toward a bar when the sky cracked open. God, are You up there tossing buckets? I need this.
I squealed as a drop smacked me. Maybe that was my answer? God was telling me to cool it. Montana scooped me into his arms and strode over the slick sidewalk.
“Wait! You said you wouldn’t carry me, Montana.” I protested, clutching his peacoat.
He smirked, water dripping from his beard. “Circumstances changed, chère. Those little legs will have us drenched before we get there.”
Miles. He carried me miles, as puddles splashed over his dark jeans. I watched lovers huddling under awnings. I almost snapped my neck looking back. “Hey, let’s—”
“Non,” he growled. “Your legs too damn short to keep up. You’d drown in the puddles before we hit the block.”
Enjoying the arms wrapped around me, I smacked his chest, laughing. “Excuse me? I meant we could’ve waited under those, yet you badmouth my legs?”
“You heard me. Lil’ baby legs. One of my strides is four of yours. Be grateful, bébé.”
“I was grateful until Big Country started talking smack.”
He hoisted me higher in his arms. “I saw you steal half a pistachio from my ice cream and couldn’t finish it. Lightweight.”
I gasped, half laughing, half scandalized. Rain slanted into my face, so I rubbed my eyes against the peacoat covering his broad chest. “That’s because I hated it. So, stop. I throw down when the food’s good.”
When the hotel finally emerged in the rainy distance, Diana Redux plastered wet against my face. The Paris lights blurred through the rain. The doorman hustled forward with an umbrella. Montana cut him off with a low, dismissive rumble. “She ain’t hiding under nothing but me.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, replacing the cold. I chuckled, mortified, and secretly thrilled, as he carried me, our bodies dripping on the granite lobby floor. “Now I get why we couldn’t wait under the awning. ‘She ain’t hiding under nothing but me, huh?’ ”
Montana didn’t put me down when he pressed the elevator button with his elbow. His wet beard dripped onto my shoulder. The beard oil smelled sweet and succulent. His chest solid against me. “Relax. He didn’t understand me.”
“You better hope so,” I murmured, though my pulse fluttered wild.
Because I understood.
Weeks ago, Big Country was easier to deny. The legend helped me draw a parallel to Edwin. Not in any sick, twisted way—after Doctor Jekyll became Mr. Hyde. But the other parallels—the playboy ways, which I was confident he justified. He had to justify them. His mom was a saint! I know she raised Montana better than that. So, I was sure Big Country told himself he only dipped into girls who didn’t care.
However, too much laughter and tension stood between me and denying him anymore.
Here I was in Paris, clinging to Montana. My only safe place left on earth.
My … safe … place.
Jesus, if You wanna make him my forever home, I’m up for that too.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Montana carried me past a couple eating each other’s faces, who blocked the elevator exit. They gasped when our wet clothes got on them.
I buried my face in his neck to hide my laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
He bent close, his breath hot against my ear. “And I’m yours, Zuri.”
The words dropped into me like a stone rippling in water, so peacefully I lost my breath. Speechless. For thirty days or …?