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)
I rested my forearms on the table, fists clenched. Addressed him like Martinez and all the others at Guggenheim Management. “Whatchu wanna accomplish?”
“A relationship.”
I sipped my cold drink.
“Montana, check this. You, this sweet bébé here, Wash and his wife meet somewhere like this once a month. Actually eat.” He picked up a fork and sliced into the bread pudding.
“Nah!” My growl slammed through the café. Side chatter stopped, and the server gave me a pleading look.
“Montana,” Zuri whispered at my side.
“He’s got old facts,” I said, “trying to act like he’s been around. Washington and his wife divorced. You know her name?”
Ezekiel lowered his head.
“You know his son?”
“Elijah.” The man nodded, like I gave him something to sink his teeth into. “Now that’s a solid name.”
“Should I”—my jaw flexed—“bring Elijah the next time I come? Even if Wash ain’t interested?”
After a moment, Ezekiel said, “If you can get my eldest son to agree, I’d love to—”
“Wrong!” I slammed a hand on the table. Crap. My voice raised loud enough to tell everyone their meal was on me. I glared at him again. While my nephew’s name had become obsolete in our family, folks too afraid to say Elijah, I just used that bébé. I felt foul. This was wrong.
Being here?
Wrong!
I got up and cocked my head. “Zuri, let’s go.”
Her eyes pleaded with me to stay. Panic flashed in them. What was she thinking? Man, this whole situation was a mistake. I’d rather pay up. Give him a few funky-ass millions to ghost me, same he’d done almost all my life.
But I knew where her head was.
Her past.
The foster parents who did a number on her. I raised my black card, and a server grabbed it. She rushed off to pay for all the patrons’ meals while I sat and ate lunch with my father.
Zuri gave me a look of appreciation. My mouth, already flexed in anger, tugged into a grin. No. Thank you, chère. Coz you gonna pay up when we get home.
zuri
. . .
Tonight, I lathered on cocoa butter and tugged into fuzzy pajamas.
I glanced over my shoulder. Had to remember that, after four years with my baby roomie, Darius was asleep in the other guestroom. I’d slept so well last night—nice … warm … cozy.
Thankfully, Montana hadn’t come in before the move. That dang kid had us sleeping in a waterbed again. He must’ve peed every couple of seconds, because urine samples cooled within minutes, and I’d felt warm.
I placed the lotion next to my calendar of Fake Dating Doom. Wait? I didn’t mark today’s date.
I crossed out today’s date, February 6th , and then propped the calendar against the magenta woman. Madison’s art. Though I tried not to, I turned to another page in the calendar and found the contract. I’d tucked it inside the calendar days ago. To preserve it? Maybe. As I picked up the half-torn paper, a knock at the window made me jump.
Rip.
Growling, I threw the pieces into my purse.
I sauntered to the window and shoved it open. “I haven’t even put on my fuzzy socks. My feet are cold, Montana. What do you want?”
“Damn, bébé, I just wanted a kiss goodnight.”
“The last time you kissed me good night …” I placed a hand on my hip, not even stepping back as he climbed into the window. “I rushed out of your house at the crack of dawn.”
“Who made you leave?” He lifted a brow.
“What are you doing?” I squeaked as he approached my purse. “Uh, no, you didn’t just dig in my purse. Just because you’ve given me money doesn’t mean you can go snooping around.”
He held up the contract. Well, some of it. “Why you got this in your purse, Zuri?” He started to ball it up, but I snatched it away, hyperventilating as I stared at it.
“Zuri?”
“The contract is valid until … the fifteenth.” Way to say you’ve never enjoyed V-Day, Zuri. But whatevs.
“Say, bébé.” His voice, a low rumble, drew my attention, and the world seemed to fade away. He removed the contract from my hand, and the anxious knot in my chest fled. “Take a walk with me?”
The words were an invitation.
“Nope. We can walk tomorrow. I need to …” Do what, Zuri? Super glue and duct tape wouldn’t revive what the contract meant.
“Don’t do me like that.” A slow, knowing smile tugged the corners of his mouth and vibrated through me, soft and teasing. “Which way you wanna go, chère, out the window or the front door?”
“Surprise me,” I retorted, annoyed by how real this should be. I shoved my bare feet into leather biker boots and laced them up. Sacrilegious. No socks.
Should’ve known Big Country. He walked us through the living room and grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and straight out the front door. My heart fluttered with every step past the stables and over the lush grass. Louisiana at night sounded melodic with the soft rush of the Bogue Falaya River.