Page 41 of Just Like Summer

Entering the small space and announcing his presence, he placed the bags on the floor next to the small table.

“How you do all of this without dishes?” he asked, breaking through her focus.

Kamilla jolted slightly before turning around. Her signature coily halo was braided into two curly buns, offering him a full view of her face. A smile eased over his distressed features.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he stated, leaning on a counter so the temptation of bringing her into his arms to hold and kiss could be smothered.

She bit a smile, just as happy to see him as he was to see her. “I kinda got lost in trying to make sure I got this recipe right.”

He nodded toward the set of pans sizzling the food on the stove. “What you make?”

“I really wanted my mom’s spaghetti and I went to the store with Dania and acted on impulse. I probably should’ve asked if you were allergic to anything, huh?” Kamilla spoke up, fully taking him in. Tight shoulders, busted knuckles. “You okay?”

Cairo offered her a half nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Her brows empathically dipped. “Sure?”

Unable to keep the guard up or block her from the residuals of his frustration, “I could use a hug.”

Kamilla nodded as she turned the pot of meat sauce down. She closed the small space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. The second her body pressed against his, the last shred of aggravation melted off of him. Resting his chin on top of her head, he grumbled, “I like your hair.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he spoke, sighing, then pressing his lips onto her forehead. “You and Dania had a cool day?”

He felt her tense before she laughed it off. “Yeah, I like her; she’s hilarious. I can see how her and Nate are together.”

“Trust me, she hasn’t even got started yet,” he replied, as Kamilla pulled back and picked his hand up off of her waist.

“Let me guess, they should’ve kept their mouth shut?” her question was accompanied with her grabbing a napkin, wetting it, and placing it atop the scraped, swollen knuckles.

He groaned, clenched his jaw and looked at her. The very fact that he wasn’t putting people into the concrete, sparing their lives, all while trying to stay level was telling. “Not trying to get into it. But yeah, he should’ve kept his fuckin’ mouth shut.”

“I see,” Kamilla hummed, moving further away. “Hold that there.”

Cairo watched her pour the water off the noodles, toss in a drizzle of oil and grab the paper plates. He’d had enough of the space. Finger hooked in the back of the biker shorts she wore, he pulled her back, lifted her up and placed her on the counter.

“So, no to holding the wet napkin on your knuckles,” she sassed.

“Not my first set of bruised knuckles. Not my last,” he admitted, boxing her in. “Especially if niggas think that using you is a topic of conversation.”

Kamilla frowned slightly. “That’s because of me?”

His response came out in a rumble. “It’s been about you since it became about you.”

Kamilla swallowed, then nipped inside of her lip.

“Everything is about you,” he mumbled, trying to determine when the right time would be for him to explain how KP fit into all of this. Her touch distracted him. Against his broad shoulders, her tiny hands rested there, offering him a very subtle caress. “The shit is dangerous.”

She withdrew. “I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me.”

Cairo picked up her hands and placed them back on his shoulders and leaned closer in. “It’s too late for that. It was too late when I broke in your aunt’s spot, took your toothbrush, and brought you here.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how my toothbrush made it over it. Damn, I’m such an easy mark.” Kamilla’s laugh further soothed him. “You have intentions of giving me back to my aunt?”

“No. Just like you don’t have no intentions on leaving. You took the two pots a nigga had and made dinner. Yeahhh, it’s a wrap,” he rumbled, peppering her face with kisses.

“You are out of your mind,” Kamilla giggled.