“I forgive you.” The words rolled out of Montana’s mouth, slow, steady, and with a rumble that shook the ground I stood on. His dark eyes softened. “How can I not?” He glanced at me sideways, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve, but wanted to. “You’re stubborn. Got a big, intelligent brain inside that?—”
“Don’t say it,” I managed, practically giggling.
“3X gorgeous head.” As he spoke, my gaze drifted from the ground to meet his, and I stepped forward. Before I knew it, the Babineaux gravitational pull had me inches away. Would’ve been all over him if he weren’t so tall.
“So loyal,” his voice rasped, reminding me of honey and volcanic pumice. The perfect scrub. Guaranteed to bring a sigh. “Your mouth doesn’t clock out.Bébé, you care like it’s your job to breathe.”
Every word slid down my spine like honey, and that pumice, that deep pumice tone was the closer.
My body went rogue before my brain realized. Toes on the rise. Tongue darting across my lips to give it a glossy effect. My eyes hooded, lashes batting.
His hand splayed on my lower back. The sigh that slipped through my lips made me feel taller. Bridged the gap. He was so close. Nodding his head, he added, “You also one, out of many,”—he chuckled, then finished in a cocky, Creole drawl—“many women who ever tried to strip me nakedwithoutknowing my name.”
My bottom lip pudged—leaving less than a breath between our lips. My toes ached. I didn’t care. “Mm-hmm. Didn’t get you naked. Conceited much.” My wide smile cut through the ache of waiting for him to kiss me.
But I wasn’t in a position to complain. I was, however, in the position to have him speaking Creole. Once. He. Kissed. Me.
My eyes closed. Committed.
Cue the fireworks.
Cue the violins.
Cue Etta James’s “At Last.”
And then …
“Who your people, Zuri? Why you live with a college friend and his woman?”
My eyes snapped open so fast I swear I sprained an eyeball, eyebrow, and the left half of my face. “Montana?”
“Okay. Never mind. Gimme the name of Darius’s father.” His brows rose. “Didn’t expect that yet. But I expected something! You told my business. I can’t be in yours?”
My jaw worked, and my hand fell onto my hip. “Excuse me, sir? Do you see me?” Somewhere inside, my brain’s alarm flashed an SOS.Throw the rescue tube.A life jacket.Pull this five-year celibate woman out of a three-foot pool before she chokes and dies.But outside, I was livid. “My toes hurt. I’m out here looking like a fool standing in front ofyou—Montana Babineaux, alternate alias Big Country—and you wanna take me on a super old episode of Maury Povich.”
“You something else.” He backed up and jutted his chin to the door. “Get in the house, woman.”
“Good night, Montana.” I strolled up the porch. As my fist rose to knock, the door opened.
A searing heat burned my eyes, clouding Virginia and the blur running toward me.
Darius launched himself into my arms.
“Tried to hold him off …” she said.
Thank you, I mouthed, pretending to struggle to stand while embracing my son. I fell to my knees with a groan that pulled something out of me. I’d blindsided Montana after the meeting. He’d returned the favor. “You’ve gotten so big.”
“Yes, Mommy. I’m big and strong.”
“Exactly.” I patted the top of his head and stood up to hug Virginia.
Tears spilled before I could stop them. “I’m sorry.”
With a look, she dissolved pretenses and got to my core. “You’ll be okay.” She soothed my back, even though she seemed puzzled by my tears.
Dang. Montana hadn’t revealed my actions.
“I-I left my bag on the porch.” I hawked a thumb, then meandered through the doors to grab it.
