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)
His eyes, the deepest brown, rich as chicory coffee, locked onto mine, suspicious.
“Montana, I heard your phone call … I wasn’t eavesdropping.” The words tumbled out, and my stomach dropped. Damn, I’d never be asked to host a TED Talk.
“You used that line when I spent the night, bébé.” Montana’s chuckle held a sting—sweet on top, bitter underneath.
A beat of silence echoed through the chrome kitchen as workers paused.
Ah, I see. That face—all grin and mischief—lured women in. But bring up anything with substance? Feelings? Conflict? Man folded like cheap laundry. Now my knuckles itched, begging for some action. I wanted to slug that damn face.
Instead, my voice became the moan he never heard that night. “Yesss, I did, didn’t I?” My fingers plunged into his beard as if I were about to kiss him. Instead of snatching it with one hand and bashing him with the other, I brought him down just enough that his lips hovered over mine. “Then you kept texting me. You begged me to come through. Montana, you didn’t last long enough for me to even drive to the Motel 6 down the street, let alone to your hideaway.” I assumed all arrogant celebrities had a mansion tucked away somewhere. I bit my lip—an action that was pure danger to the male species. “Sorry, I couldn’t come for you too.”
What he did next, though? Fireworks. Those white teeth flashed in another easy smile. And his laugh pretty much settled the score. But I knew the next step for anyone in my position. Our hearts got trapped in an emotional timeshare, and those things created cat women!
Okay, strategy:
One.
Two.
Three.
BREAK EYE CONTACT.
Do it now, Zuri!
Damn, I couldn’t.
That hypnotic face had me stuck. And my fingers plunged into his beard, soft and good in my palms. He leaned in close. Heat rolled off him, settling along my skin. My pulse did its own praise dance while my brain screamed, Serve tables!
Eyes hooded, his gaze dragged slow over me like his imagination could strip me naked. “Journey, you need that same release. Stop lying to yourself, bébé. Let your hair down.” He brushed a knuckle over my Diana Ross wig with a maddening little smirk.
I patted all that sexy-good beard then let go, kissing my teeth. “Hard pass.”
Montana walked out like being an ass didn’t cost him a thing.
I spun around. A line of servers fled the kitchen. Soon enough, I realized why Genèse knew Montana would show. Another girl, same big ole bag—but her knockoff blouse couldn’t hide—strolled into the restaurant. She took a corner booth with Montana, and she knew him too well.
Virginia came to my side. “Journey, you was supposed to save me from dat! I done laid hands, threw holy earl. She still come around smelling like sin and lobster biscuits!”
The Louisiana Creole she hid well when managing the place got thicker than a roux.
I glanced at her and sighed. “C’mon, don’t shame the girl. She’s happy?”
“Bébé, Adele’s happier than a mosquito at a blood drive on a nudist beach.” Virginia’s muttered words about sugar and salt wiped the grin off my face. Sounded wise. But what did she mean?
Days later, my heart tried to vacate my body when Montana popped up on us at the grocery store like he’d been hiding behind the canned chili. He apologized—sort of—said he didn’t mind our banter. Said we can talk anytime, just not about that. Then somehow, he negotiated his way into dinner.
Since he was behind the night-shift rotations to keep us safe, I had to forgive him. Plus, he’d exploited Darius’s weakness. Pizza and ice cream.
The second we entered Chuck E. Cheese, I tugged a cone-shaped birthday hat onto Darius’s head. Okay, it didn’t alter his appearance, but we’d keep a low profile.
Once the pizza arrived, we settled into a booth overlooking the arcade. I would’ve commended Montana on the spot, but he didn’t know about our discreet lifestyle.
While I ate pizza, Montana gave Darius a random blue gift bag that he’d brought inside the restaurant, and then he placed a pink one near me.
Suspicion lifted my brow. “You’re weird.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Ohhhhh!” Darius pulled out a stuffed brontosaurus. “Montana, can I name him?”
“Yep.”
“Brody.”
“Makes sense.” Montana nodded. “My baseball bruh, Lachlan, his father and brother share that same name.”
“Do they got spikes?” Darius asked.
“Nope.”
“Sharp teeth?”
Montana’s brow arched. “Nah.”
“Didn’t think so. My Brody is better.” He hugged his dino, and I darn near melted.
Smiling, Montana gestured to the pink bag.
With a smirk, I slipped my hand inside. My breath caught. Paper. A … book.
The present faded. Images of Darius’s father flashed in my mind, his voice in my ears.
“Zuri, you’re the only woman I know who loves to enrich her mind. Can I buy you diamonds?”
“No,” I’d chuckled, pulling the older, more distinguished doctor between my thighs.
montana
. . .
Atear slipped down Journey’s cheek. A single tear.