“Yes!”
“Even if said weirdo is still at rock bottom? Financially speaking?”
“We’ve been there together, Madison. You’re my woman through thick and thin. Rich or po’.” He reached over and took my hand, his lips brushing the back of it with kisses before moving to my fingers. The reverent touch of his lips on my fingertips sent a wave of tingles that ran through me.
Humbled by his enduring love, I sighed. “You make me a good person. I’m gonna text Genèse and see if she knew anything about this. Maybe she hadn’t meant to be her usual troll under the bridge self. She could’ve been trying to warn Zuri, but after Phoenix told her how horrible she is, she burst into tears.”
“Damn,chère. You’re a saint. You intend to apologize to Sasquatch?”
I snorted, shifting in my seat so that my prime view of the scenery included my man. “Not even. I said,good person. See me as a saint all you want to. However, it means on the scale, your cousin is most definitely going to hell. Genèse will become acrisped mass of nothingness. Just Cajun spices fried extra crispy. Don’t forget the Crystal Hot Sauce.”
“Just?”
“Of course, she won’t get the extra dashes of Tabasco sauce, duh.”
Washington blinked at me as if I were the one who needed prayer and hydration, even though I low-key wanted an answer from his cousin.
Three hours later, Genèse had left my question about her crying on read as we rolled through Shreveport. The city slid into view in that slow, sunlit way. The highway disappeared into pecan-lined streets. Sprawling greenery whispered old money and older opinions.
“Wow,” I murmured, as rolling fields stretched with vines glowing in the late-afternoon sun. “This is beautiful. I should be a sommelier.”
“I think you could. Your wine cellar at home misses you, though. So, you should teach classes naked when we get home.”
I smiled, though the temperature in the Bentley rose a good hundred degrees. And I could practically see all he planned to do with me in our wine room. “Boy, behave.”
The vineyards thickened as we approached the estate. All green rows over soft hills dotted with wooden tasting decks. Each deck boasted an intimate white gazebo that begged for engagement photoshoots and snobbish yet subdued public intoxication.
Then the hotel came into view.
Yep, momma was getting naked, wine glasses adorning both hands.
I imagined creating a vase for my sister when I moved. But meh, maybe not? I couldn’t do it justice. My rendition of the stone archways, ivy climbing cream-colored walls, and turreted roofs might look like child’s play.
“This is a gorgeous French château,” I breathed. “Oh, Wash, let’s get married here.”
Washington smirked, lifting his Cuban link necklace to touch his wedding band. “Right now? I’ll pencil you in. Hell, I’ll still officiate.”
The valet was already jogging toward us. As another valet helped me out, I watched Washington hand the first man a tip so big his expression begged us to adopt him.
Washington came around, placed his hands at my waist, body heat brushing against mine.
We stopped beneath a stone archway that led into the château, negotiations still in limbo. He said, “So … thirty minutes? Then either we exchange vows in a suite or in one of those tasting areas.”
“Five minutes. I’ll even do my baby hairs. You know how frisky I get when I have baby hairs. And we can take our second marriage photos with our iPhones.” I winked.
With a laugh, his hands slid over my hips and caressed my ass; his breath light on my neck. “Twenty minutes. Yeah, do the hairs. And after I pour a bottle of wine on you later, I’ll lick it off.”
I tried not to gulp, my hand swatting his chest, while heat curled through me. “Seven, and you don’t miss an inch of me?”
“Bet.” He clasped me tighter.
Instead of focusing on the way his hands caressed me like a song, my gaze drifted past him, toward the elegant entranceway with stone steps and iron lanterns. The DuValls would be inside. Waiting. Judging.
“Maddy?” Washington cupped my cheeks. “Where’d you go? Don’t give me a complex. If my terms aren’t good enough, lemme know what else you need. I’m a generous lover. You know that.”
I swallowed. “It’s not that, Wash … I’m not ready to- to do this.” I tried to get the ache off my chest with a humorless chuckle. “Not sure I’m up to scrutinizing your every move while Judge Plantation holds your hand, his token support Black person.”
Washington fixed me with a serious stare. “Maddy, I’d say we can show ourselves to our suite right now, no chatting, but something’s on your mind. What?”
