I took a step forward, but sexiness stood between me and that door. Dang,Zuri, tell the man to move!
“I saw the fire in your eyes when we locked gazes. Then you …” A chuckle rode his abdomen.
My vision popped upward and landed on him. I could see it in his eyes. Visions of me cleaning his shirt,andyes, I would’ve stripped him bare—waist up. “Keep flirting, I’ll get you the HC&PP bib.”
Montana glanced down at his chest. Um-hmm, he’d forgotten the abstract art. I grinned. “You were running around here looking like Baby Huey in a onesie.”Ugh, perfect time to mention seriously old cartoons. “That shirt is too tight, anyway.”
He chuckled, then I burst out laughing, and the whole mood shifted. Tears falling, hands swiping them.
“You a little funny.” He measured with index and thumb, stepping close enough to shift the mood again.
Hotter than all outside? Yes, it was.
Another step forward, and he had me on the run. I backed up. Needed to escape. Hyperaware, I danced around the box that had no business sitting on the ground. Placed space between us. Still, he kept me trapped under his gaze. “Just a little funny, Journey.”
“Boy, I gave you stand-up comedy. Tip your waitress. She’s hilarious.” The layers of deception—and protection—melted away as I wore a sloppy grin. His was lopsided in a way only the male species pulled off. “Funniest person you know.”
“Actually.” He stepped over the box in the middle of the room.Close, he looked down at me. The man forced me to focus on exhaling.
In.
Out.
Repeat. “Actually?” I echoed him, barely above a whisper. I was notthatdeliriously attracted to him. I’d stitched coherent words.
One.
Coherent word.
Montana’s head tilted. “My friend Nico would try to chew you up and spit you out on the stand-up scene for saying you’re the funniest person I know. I’m not saying he’d drop the mic. He’d fight for his title as my funniest acquaintance.”
“You know Nico Roman?”
Montana shook his head, as if disappointment radiated through his large frame. “Bruh, you knowofone of my oldest friends, even his government, but you didn’t know Big Country?”
“Saw him at Madison Square Garden before I had Darius. Even watched his Netflix—ahem …” I took a step back. Went quiet. Seconds ago? I was with the top-shelf banter. A let-me-have-this-meet-cute moment, then deuces!
His eyes lit up, knowing we’d crossed a line. The wrong one. “Journey, you can’t. You can’t go. You see how my momma is with that boy.”
“M’kay? Let me show you how it’s done.” I strutted past him.
“Wait.” He turned me around.
“No!” I backed away.
“Journey, don’t?—”
“I don’t know you!” I took another rear flanking step, prepared to pivot and stroll away when my foot caught on the same wood crate we’d danced around. My body fell backward, eyes wide, a yelp lurching from my lips.
Montana grabbed my wrist and tugged me straight to him.
“Yay! Mommy’s kissing the boobie man. We can stay!” Darius’s squeal from behind me made me push away from Montana.
“What? No.” Like déjà vu, my foot hit the crate. Yeah, I wasgonna have a bonfire. Me, this crate, marshmallows, graham crackers. Maybe an upgrade to Reese’s chocolate. Montana caught me, then we both went tumbling.
“Ugh,” I groaned. This big old cornbread-fed, body-conditioning machine fell on top of me. His shoulder smacked against my mouth. Seriously? All that time I’d admired those shoulders like they were God’s gift, and He said, “Bet.”
Instead of an apology for crushing me, Montana rolled onto his back, placed his hands behind his head, and grinned. “Journey, y’know what they say about a hard head?”
