Valentine’s Day
My heart is with her on Valentine’s Day.I’d discovered the message on Montana’s social media while I lounged around as he prepared breakfast.
Today, like every day for the past month, his fans had eaten it up. He’d even mentioned something about a new set of followers. If they were all as thirsty as some comments Google translated for me, hell, I’d slide in his DMs and threaten that money-making arm, his muscular thighs. And … yeah. All. Of. His. Sexy. Body. Parts.
We’d had a laid-back day because I told him I didn’t need a piece of jewelry, just him.
So, Darius gave me jewelry during an afternoon picnic—and of course, they had Big Country’s name written all over them. Golden chandelier earrings, a matching necklace, and now Montana was at the door to my bedroom with a bracelet between his fingers. Sure, it appeared dainty in his hand, but?—
“Wait, give me the box,” I said, starting out of the room.
“Most girls want the jewelry, not the box.” Before I could get one toe into the hallway, he looped an arm around me, spun metoward the bed, and shut us inside the room. It happened in a blur, all while he held a large box behind his back.
“Well, now, I don’t understand the Dodgers’ choices. You could pimp slap a toddler, with those quick moves, I’d still have your bat.”
He smiled, appreciative and smug, placing a box, much too large for jewelry, on the dresser.
I poked him in the chest. “Get out. Your momma will bring out the holy water, oil, and does she have a pastor on speed dial?”
“Yep.”
“Are you crazy? We’re gonna get prayed back into the time of Noah, and with my luck, it will be seconds after he sealed the doors … so …”
“So?”
“Go!” My whispered fury didn’t faze him.
“Wear this tonight.” He gestured to the large box.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far. I told you, Zuri. This day was low-key. Just like you wanted.”
I put my hands on my hips, and he followed suit, placing his hands on mine and shifting me closer. “Tonight’s gone be perfect,chère. Trust me.”
“When we’re not in this room …” I murmured, matching the intensity of how his lips pressed against mine. A tiny nip, a gentle kiss, a playful bite, followed by another tender kiss.
His fingers threaded under the hem of my shirt. I dug my hand into the pocket of his jeans.
Montana moaned. “That’s what I’m talking about,bébé?”
As he reached for his zipper, I tugged out a small jewelry box and jumped back.
“Ch-Chanel?” I sputtered. The bracelet matched the other jewelry. “You bought Chanel?Vintage Chanel. Wait, that explains why the other jewelry wasn’t in boxes? You promised not to make a big deal?—”
“Nah, that’sChantelle. One of those vendors in the French Market. It’s fake,bébé.”
“What?”
“That’s where I got the jewelry. Good deal.”
I pressed my hands on his chest. “Good deal? Says the man who wouldn’t take a discount-store T-shirt?”
“You still on that?”
“Youbadmouthed Egyptian cotton?—”
“Non,chère. You just needed to know the finer things in life. The finest. Sea Island Cotton. This fake jewelry? It’ll look authentic, adorning you.”
