“Well, you did a pretty good job of catching me off guard.” That morning, she’d awakened me with her mouth around my dick and an idea for an impromptu trip to Wellspring. Despite my initial response of no, she’d made valid points about why it was important to get the meeting done.
Dallas smirked. “I told you I have my ways.” She glanced down at her phone and cursed. “This fool gets on my last nerve.”
I frowned. “What’s up?”
“Kimball’s ass. He just texted me.”
The mere mention of his name pissed me off. I wouldn’t have minded wearing his ass out on that golf course. “What did he want?”
“I have no idea. He only sent a one-word text.Hi. I feel like I’m dealing with a toddler. WAP muthafucka.”
Confused, I said, “I’m not into that new hip hop, but doesn’t that mean—”
“I know what it means. In Kimball’s case, it’s not what hehas, it’s what heis. A Whiny-Ass Pussy.”
I barked out a laugh. She did too. “You’re silly for that,” I told her.
“I love to hear you laugh,” she murmured, a smile still on her lips. “It’s nice.”
I held my hand out and she slid hers into mine. “I like that you make me laugh. Even when I don’t want to.”
“Well, I guess I have to make up more corny jokes.”
I lifted her palm to my lips and kissed it. “I’m here for it.”I’m here for you.
Today felt like the start of something new, something better. As we neared Ann Arbor, I realized I was ready for the journey. I also realized I wanted Dallas with me on the ride. Yet, while we’d steadily taken steps that brought us closer together, I wasn’t sure she was ready for forever. Or even for now.
* * *
“What’s your favorite song?”I eyed Dallas over the rim of my glass.
Earlier today, she’d texted me two words:Today sucked. And I’d immediately hopped into action, organizing a picnic on my recently purchased property on the Detroit River. After a light dinner of fried chicken, potato salad, and green beans all prepared by her mother, we’d spread out on the blankets I’d laid in the bed of my truck. My house was under construction and too dangerous for us to be inside.
Since we’d been out here, Dallas had yet to tell me why she was having a bad day. I suspected it had nothing to do with Kimball and the Color of Law stuff. It seemed to be more personal in nature. So I tried to keep the conversation to safe topics like music, until she was ready to share.
“Of all time?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hm…” She tapped her chin. “I love a lot of songs. Hard to narrow it down to one.”
I stared at her. She was so beautiful, bathed in the sunlight. Every day, I found myself more invested in this thing between us. I didn’t want it to end. “Okay, what about a song you like that people would be surprised about?”
A whisper of a smile spread over her lips. “That’s easy. ‘Dirty Diana.’”
“Who?” I teased.
She met my gaze. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about that song? It’s about a woman who liked the boys in the band, a groupie. It’s Michael Jackson!” She sang the first verse of the song, moving her body to the tune in her head.
When she blared the chorus in her off-key voice, I covered her mouth. Laughing, I said, “It’s okay. You can stop. I don’t want you to scare the fish. Or any of the neighbors.”
She swatted me. “Shut it. There’s no one within yelling distance.”
I kissed her. “That’s the way I like it.” When I’d bought the house, one of the selling points was the privacy. Although the home was in an exclusive subdivision, the closest neighbor was a distance away, which suited me just fine. The breathtaking view of the river and the boathouse had sealed the deal. The previous owner had done substantial renovations, but I wanted to make the house my own. Construction had started before Memorial Day, and I expected to be able to move in after Labor Day.
“This is so nice,” she said, turning to her side so she could face me.
I ran my finger down her cheek. “What’s nice?”
