The smile slowly slipped from her face. “I’m hurting, but I’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, you gon’ be aight.”
“How you know?” she asked with a slight smile.
He kissed her forehead. “Because I’ll make sure of it.”
“Long as you don’t act crazy like you did last night,” she teased.
He grinned. “Don’t disappear on me again, and I think we’ll be straight.”
“I didn’t disappear. I went to see my granny and then to work,” she argued.
“I ain’t know nothin’ ’bout none of that.”
“True . . . I’m not used to dealing with anyone else, Boog. It wasn’t intentional.”
“You ain’t ever had a man before?” He didn’t really care to know that answer. Whatever niggas she dealt with before him were irrelevant in his eyes, but he had to admit that his curiosity was piqued.
“I mean, yeah, but even then, they didn’t really keep tabs on me like that. Probably because they were out doin’ dirt. I haven’t really been in a mature, grown-up relationship before.”
“Well, now you are.”
“You really just gonna claim me like that without even asking?” Sweetie giggled, but she snuggled into him. They both knew what it was.
“You want me to ask, Sweetie? I’ll get down on one knee right now and propose. Stop playin’.”
Her eyes grew wide, and he chuckled. He knew she wasn’t ready for that. He was though. Sweetie was it for him. He toldGod a long time ago that if he ever put her in his path again, he would do right by her. A woman like Sweetie Bishop deserved to be a wife and in a happy marriage. He planned to give that to her. It didn’t matter that it had been twenty years since they last saw each other. They had a solid eight years of their life sneaking around together when they were kids. Shit like that didn’t just get erased. Their bond transcended anything he could find in today’s dating pool, which was in hell’s sewer, as far as he was concerned. Superficial shit didn’t mean anything to him. His bond with Sweetie was everything he had been missing in life. She was that final puzzle piece that would ensure he died an old and happy man that lived a great life.
“I . . . uh . . .” she stammered.
“Yeah, like I said, stop playin’ wit’ me.”
She buried her face in his chest in embarrassment. “I’m just sayin’, Boogie. You see me once after twenty years and decide I’m yours now? Do I get a say?”
“Of course you do. You wanna be wit’ me, Sweetie?” He grinned down at her because he knew her ass did.
She turned bright red and tried to hide against his chest again, but he didn’t allow her to. She gave up and huffed out her morning breath. Even that was cute to him.
“Yes, Boogie, I do. I’m still worried, though?—”
“Don’t be. Only thing I need you to be worried about is those niggas you give dances to at that strip club. They might be met with a broken kneecap when they exit the building.” He hadn’t meant for the conversation to come about like that, but the thought still bothered the hell out of him.
She giggled. “It’s how I make money, Boog. I ain’t ever did anything else, and I can’t just sit around and let you take care of me. I’ve done that my whole life.”
“Do you want to strip?”
“I want to dance.” She shrugged.
He thought about it. “What about for The Riptides?”
Her brows pulled in. “Like the NBA team?”
“Yeah. Would you want to be a cheerleader or whatever for them? Don’t they do like halftime performances and shit?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Yeah, they’re real competitive too. They have the best team in the NBA. Ain’t no way I can get on with them. Their application process is wild. Plus, it’s the middle of the season.”
“If I get you a spot on the team, will you quit stripping?” he had to ask. He didn’t want to swoop in and control her life. That wasn’t his goal here, but to him, it sounded like she didn’t necessarily want to strip. She wanted to dance. Those were two very different things. If he could help her realize her dreams and think bigger, then he would. Of course, it benefitted him too, but his intentions were pure.
