“Boy, please.” She smirked. “All those 3X head jokes helped you cope with an unresolved hair fetish.”
I wasn’t admitting to that.
“Breakfast?” she said again, as if to imply she’d one that round. “Room service or …”
I chuckled, trying to hide my strange obsession, and said, “I don’t have no room service money.”
Zuri glanced around dramatically. “Shhh … not too loud. Say something like that to Big Country, his ego will deflate to the size of Texas.”
In an instant, I had her beneath me. “Saying my brother’s name while we lay in bed?” I couldn’t hide my smile. I knew she was joking. Still …
Zuri laughed. Each time she did, I fell harder.
“Sorry, Montana. I’ll remove Texas from my vocab. Although when pretending to be Southern on my first pass through the Lone Star State, I Googled Texas sayings to blend in.If a man started flirting, I’d say, ‘All my exes came from Texas,and I’ve learned my lesson.’ ” Her smile vanished, but the moment still felt as intimate as before.
Was she giving me another piece of herself? Almost as precious as tasting every inch of her? “How many places you been, Zuri?”
She snuggled into my side. “Twelve. Obviously, Texas … if you don’t mind me saying it once more?”
I slowly dragged my hand over her soft hip, the unspoken gesture meant to allow her to speak freely with me. “I’m listening.”
“It was the first place I went after leaving Curtis and Deidre. They have family in Galveston. Probably could’ve stayed there if I hadn’t gotten paranoid. But it’s true the hearts are bigger in Texas and New Orleans.”
Last month, I’d tried to forget that ESPN still had my name crawling across the bottom ticker with words likesuspendedandmeltdown. Now, I had bigger worries. Zuri had become a multifaceted reason not to think about it. I had thirty days of fake dates. Most of these days would remain a secret between us. Forget social media. I had this chance to win her. Because something big was coming.
If she ran, man, my heart couldn’t take that.
zuri
. . .
The silk of the midnight-blue pantsuit clung to my curves, a smooth embrace that rivaled the beauty of the Tuileries Gardens across the street. The top dipped low, testing Montana’s self-control and mine. My heels clicked over the cobblestone sidewalk.
Even beneath the glow of old Holophane streetlamps—a history lesson courtesy of Montana—we looked like trouble in matching colors. The type of trouble that … made me want to pick out ugly Christmas sweaters 300-and-something odd days too soon. Perhaps select them for the next fifty years.
He wore midnight-blue trousers and a cream-white button-down, open at the chest. Someone needed a bib, all right. Me. I could gaze and salivate all night.
“How much farther?” I squinted through the outline of buildings older than the great-grandparents I’d never met. Besides, the Louvre was closed, so what would we sightsee?
“We here,bébé.” He caught my hand and spun me into his arms, cupping my bottom as if he owned me. “Anytime I’m with you? We already arrived.”
“Ah-hmm …” I hope that didn’t sound breathless.
Montana tilted my chin as the breeze carried the faint scent of rain and roses from the Tuileries Gardens. Lord, let it rain.
“You ready to fall in love, Zuri …?”
My lips parted. Took every muscle in my body not to offer a bobblehead nod. Or say, Too late.
“With this place?” he teased.
I never made love until last night. His gentle, slow strokes were all the more intimate as a glistening trail of a rogue tear streamed down my cheek. And the other things we did. Served each other? I almost rolled my eyes.
“Montana, where are we?” Paris had nondescript buildings. All stony, gray, and gargoyle architecture. When we entered the place,Wham! A speakeasy. Or a cathedral. Or museums. I had enjoyed our visit to that art gallery.
Yep, romance bloomed with every brushstroke in that gallery. Abstract Expressionism got me! Instead of paint splatter, I saw love.
A green squiggle leaned lovingly into a purple swirl for a kiss. And the red-hot splatter? Fireworks. Those same fireworks imprinted behind my eyes while squeezed shut in ecstasy, right before Montana returned to my mouth, those thick lips glossed gorgeously in my love for him.Somebody tell me, I ain’t cray?
