He drops his arm and glances at my fork-less hand. “Your voice box ain’t broke is?—”
“You wanted me to come back,” I cut him off without thinking.
He laughs and I revel in its low timbre.
It’s more like a chuckle, actually—like he finds the fact that I clocked him humorous.
I don’t know when I put the pieces together in my head. Maybe it was his spotless house, the warm sun on his brown face, or the blunt and smoothie sitting on the bed of his truck, but this was his endgame all along—to have me standing right here in front of him.
His laughter tapers off, and he squints at me. “I just wanted to hear what you had to say about those sticky fingers you got.”
My mouth moistens.
Okay, maybe I don’t want him to talk because everything that comes out of his mouth makes my body respond in that same stupid way it did yesterday.
He looks down and I follow his eyes toward my glittering engagement ring that I put on out of habit this morning.
“That’s a nice ring, Slim.”
There was that name again: Slim.
“That’s not my name,” I shoot back.
He shakes his head, smiling. “A’ight then… what’s your name?”
“Lovie.”
He looks at me through long lashes and blinks. “Lovie…”
Here my stubborn nipples go again—puckering against my bra all because this guy says my name like it means something to him in that slow drawl. Sweat coats my inner thighs as the bright sun hits the diamonds in the paw print dangling from his neck. The blinding glare makes me pinch my eyes together and then peel them back open.
“So, Faye said I can have you again today, Lovie?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“I…no…I…”
He should be the one stuttering, but then again, I don’t ask questions the way he does.
Have me?
Is he serious?
“Or you snuck over here?” He tilts his head.
Snuck?
He’s got to be kidding.
I shake my head. “Look, I don’t have to sneak anywhere. I’m a grown woman.”
My response doesn’t sound like anything a grown woman would say because I’m too out of touch with men.
He raises his eyebrow again. “Kenny find out you down here and he’ll whoop my ass no matter how grown you think you are, you know that, right?”
I sputter out an unintentional laugh, trying to picture Uncle Kenny’s fleshy body on top of Rich’s. The mental image makes me laugh harder while Rich’s expression stays even.
“I can’t remember the last time he seriously raised his voice outside the gym, let alone got in the ring with somebody. I doubt he’ll do that,” I reply between laughs. “I think you’re safe.”
That’s not even what I wanted to say. I’m not supposed to laugh and entertain this dude’s crazy questions.
