Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Maybe she wouldn’t care if we were more…
My stomach growls, reminding me there are more pressing things than the drama between Zere and Maverick.
“Like food,” I mutter. “How have you gone so long without eating, girl?”
Probably because I worked all day and didn’t shut it down until this evening. My finger hovers over the icon of my favorite wing spot, when the phone rings.
Maverick’s name on the screen gives me pause.
I’m tempted not to answer, even as every fiber of my body begs me to grab that call before he hangs up. There is a civil war between the clear-thinking career woman who knows she needs to avoid romantic involvement with Maverick, and the touch-starved girl who talks to him every night under the flimsy guise of casual friendship.
“Hey!” I say, my voice artificially bright. “What’s up?”
“Wagwan,” Maverick answers.
I can’t help but laugh at his use of the customary greeting we hear so much on Top Boy, which basically means “what’s up?”
“Wagwan,” I return.
“You not running the streets on a Saturday night?”
“Nah. It’s a lazy night in. Pampering myself.”
“I hope you weren’t planning to watch an episode without me.”
“I might be,” I tease. “What do you need?”
“I’m in your city.”
I straighten on my couch and lean forward, elbows on my knees because I don’t think I heard him right.
“And you just told me you’re home.”
“Yeahhhhh,” I say, drawing out the one syllable into a dozen possibilities. “And?”
“And I want to see you.”
I touch my hair, twisted into big knots and colored creamy white with three different products.
“I’m not up for going out,” I tell him. “I was just about to order some food.”
“Order enough for two. I could come over.”
“I’m not inviting you over,” I reply with a firmness the butterflies flapping around in my belly don’t approve of.
“Have pity on a friend.”
“Hmmm,” I grunt noncommittally.
“I came to town for this charity event. A fundraiser for a school I serve on the board of, the Young Leaders Academy of Atlanta. You heard of it?”
“Ezra Stern’s school? Of course. They do great work.”
“Well, I’m on the board so… thank you?”
We laugh together, and my shoulders relax a little. I don’t want to allow myself the pleasure of his company and his conversation, but every time he’s on the other end of any device—phone, iPad, whatever—my defenses drop and before I know it we’re two episodes into season two on Netflix. After the rapport we’ve built recently, I don’t want to test my strength of will in the flesh.
“I didn’t eat the food there, though,” he continues. “Can I come scoop you?”
“I’m wearing pajamas.”
“Throw on something.”
“I don’t have on any makeup.”
“Good. I love your natural skin.”
I scoff, but a small smile tugs at my lips. Charmer. “You’ve never seen me without makeup.”
“Then it’s about damn time I do.”
“I just washed my hair.”
“Got a hat?”
“When a Black woman tells you she just washed her hair, you should know that is a full-ass production and she ain’t going nowhere.”
“I’m aware,” he says, laughing. “But surely there’s some way you could venture out with me in public. We could go to a dive. We could eat at a drive-in and you wouldn’t have to get out of the car. I don’t care.”
He pauses and draws in a sharp breath.
“I just want to see you, Hen.”
I close my eyes and heart against the tidal wave of response at those words. I don’t want this anticipation, how it shortens my breath. I don’t want to acknowledge the way my nipples pebble under my satin top from the sensation of that deep voice licking over me. This is so dangerous. And surely not wise.
But I’m doing it anyway.
“It’s not going to be fancy,” I sigh. “So lower your billionaire bar, but it will be an Atlanta institution.”
“I didn’t grow up a billionaire, Hendrix,” he says dryly.
“Oh, no. You grew up the son of a professional basketball player. Nearly impoverished. You may have grown up with just a silver spoon in your mouth, but now it’s platinum.”
He sucks his teeth, but chuckles. “Girl, just send me your address.”
“I need a few minutes to get my hair at least presentable for going outside.”
“You know I’ll take you however.”
The words I’ll take you hang in the air, a lasso whipping overhead, ready to fall over my shoulders, slip around my waist and draw me in.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be ready.”
What a lie. I’ll never be ready for this man.
CHAPTER 24
MAVERICK
Wagwan.”
I deliver the greeting with a smile at Hendrix’s front door.
“Wagwan,” she replies, her mouth curving as she steps back so I can enter her apartment.
“Just gimme a sec to grab my bag.” She turns away, but I gently clasp her wrist to stop her. She looks at me over her shoulder, a question in her eyes.
“Hold on,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad to see you.”