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)
A forced cough, soft yet snappish, interrupted us. “Well, now! Don’t let me intrude on the private showing.”
My eyes snapped open. I yanked a frozen Zuri to her full height, almost knocking off her wig. Arm around her waist, we turned around. “It’s alright, bébé. This is my sister.”
Madison pushed back her black, razor-sharp bob—the only thing that looked ready to cut today—and smirked. “Loving the passion, Montana. I don’t know if it’s because she’s so pretty and short compared to your overgrown behind, but ma’am … were you working your way down … somewhere.” She smirked suggestively. “Perhaps, the floorboards.” She let the shade hang in the air.
Zuri’s body tensed, embarrassment radiating off her. “Hahaha.” Zuri extended a hand. “Those are very intricate floorboards. So … nice. You must be, Washington’s wife—ex-wife, Mad?” Zuri stumbled over the words, trying to recover. I doubted she was secretly shading her back.
“Mad?” Madison raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed.
I chuckled under my breath, softly squeezing Zuri. Damn. Me and my brother’s secret nickname for Madison was coming back to haunt me. Should’ve known Zuri didn’t get that joke.
“Maddy?” Zuri corrected, cheeks all flushed. “Mad-dee. Something was stuck in my throat, I meant to say—”
“Stuck? Not yet.” Madison folded her arms, giving her a long, slow look that made Zuri melt against my chest. Then she broke out in laughter and pulled Zuri into a quick hug. “Girl, I’m messing with you. This man thinks he’s God’s gift to the female race. He’s a bad influence. Run. Now, what’s your name?”
Since Zuri’s golden complexion still looked a little flushed, I spoke up. “Zuri Caldwell, MD.” I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “She’s a real doctor, sis. You know my skills. I just persuaded her with promises of this permanent upgrade.”
Zuri’s eyes darted toward mine, pure venom. “What permanent upgrade?”
“Hmm …” Madison grinned. “Don’t worry, Zuri. As long as Big Country stares at you like you’re the finest piece of art in the entire store, I think he’s the one running. After you.”
“Why you gotta say my name like that, huh, sis?” I hugged her. “You and Momma make it sound like it came from some backwater bayou.”
But my girl—slow to warm up—ate up her compliment. “Oh, he stares at me, huh?”
“And the way he had his arm around you after y’all little messy, McNasty incident?” She chuckled. “I’m inclined to say he’s protective”—her voice seemed to break—“of you too.”
“Hey,” I asked, wondering if she missed my brother’s love and protection. “Does Wash know the store is closing?”
Her upper lip curled. “For what?”
Damn, Mad! “Listen, I want to buy everything. Also need you to make a couple more vases for me.” More than a couple, but I wouldn’t press with Zuri around.
She shrugged. “Grab what you see. Everything’s free. Hell, even the shelves. That’s a no regarding the vases. Don’t need the commission. The cash you gave me in January? I used it to negotiate a way out of eviction rather than just walking away from the store. I gotta hawk everything by the end of the month. So, as I said, it’s all free.”
“Maddy, why you tripping?”
She glared at me flatly. “I’m not a glassblower anymore.”
“You should’ve told me exactly how much you needed! You can’t—”
“You Baby-Nos love to tell someone what they can’t do.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I promised only to call your brother that, Mr. Babineaux. Now, tell your brother to stop stalking me.”
“Whatchu talking about?”
“Montana, I’m tired … of Wash. Stalking. Me.” Madison fisted her keys and took a step back. “I left the door unlocked! All this crap still here. Nobody wanted it. Take it all. Just leave the floorboards.” She glanced at Zuri, offering a smile. “The landlord owns them.”
zuri
. . .
Acouple weeks had passed since embarrassment nearly made me blend into Madison’s floorboards. She and I had started trading text messages. She told me she was rooting for my relationship with Montana, which made my countdown to February 14th even more excruciating. I felt like I was making a friend. People had never cared about what I wanted. When I fished for information from Madison, she didn’t text back. So much for trying to support Washington for all those stakeouts at my old apartment.
Now, Montana was extra moody, harassing me at all hours of the … morning. He stood at the edge of my bed in a blue-green Nike Tech outfit that popped against his skin. I hadn’t moisturized or brushed my teeth and tucked the sheets to my chin.
“Chère, bébé, get up.” He held up a matching outfit in hot pink. Miss Peaches would tear it off me, limb from limb. Her favorite color was gorgeous. He winked. “This is fake date approved.”
My head almost did a full 360. Fake. Date. “First, it’s too early. Second, it’s too early. Third—”