Page 42 of The Need to Know

“Now I’m starting to feel bad for chasin’ dead presidents,” Ezekiel joked.

No wonder he was so acclaimed at his age, he was focused. Not that I wasn’t with Shéc, but my soul craved more. I wasn’t ashamed to say I wanted to be loved and adored. That I wanted to love and adore back. That I wanted more in life than money.

“When you die, people aren’t going to speak about your money or the things that you bought, they’re going to speak about you. Money has no real value that life and experience does,” I said honestly. “I know that’s trite and childish, but I can’t help it.”

“You got a good heart, I can tell,” Ezekiel said as he concentrated on my other foot now. He cradled me gently and I liked that. “My mom and pops be gettin’ on me about slowing down, stopping and smellin’ the roses, but all I can think about is expanding and building.”

“All work and no play,” I scolded.

“Nah, I play,” he said, an edge to his voice that had me feeling hot. “Just not in the way he’d prefer.”

“Hmm.” His first and only passion was his work and money. Not exactly an ideal partner in the long run. But a test drive definitely wouldn’t hurt in the short term. “As long as you’re responsible,” I threw out. He didn’t have any kids, which was good for a man in his position, but safe sex was still a must.

“Always,” Ezekiel agreed. “I get tested every three months.”

My stomach knotted up at the thought. That was the first thing I did when I dumped my ex for the last time. He wasn’t faithful, and I wanted to fully be able to walk away without any more scars.

“What kind of store do y’all own?” Ezekiel brought up next, changing the subject, saving me from memory lane.

“A boutique called Shéc.” I grabbed my phone and thumbed through my photos to show him our storefront.

Ezekiel peered at my phone as I held it out. “Nice.” His eyes roamed up my bare legs and landed on my romper. “I like your steeze.”

“I try to make every outfit a project, that way our customers get inspired to buy similar pieces,” I explained.

“You got any men’s clothing?”

“No, it’s called Shéc because we sell women’s chic fashion.”

Ezekiel pretended to be offended. “Damn, that’s cold. Maybe I’ll go into fashion and open up a shop next door to cater to the men you’re discriminating against. Maybe I’ll call it Hém.”

“Oh really?” I challenged.

He nodded. “Maybe I’ll even sell a few I’m Hém T-shirts and hoodies.”

While it wasn’t a bad idea, I didn’t encourage him. But damn, we should’ve come up with a good pun for Shéc.

I cocked my head to the side, feeling playful. “What else are you going to sell? Clothes for old men?”

Ezekiel stopped massaging my foot, angling his head. “You saying I dress like an old man?”

I glanced at his neat outfit. “Yep.”

It happened in a blur.

One minute he was holding my foot, the next his grip was firm as he yanked me over toward him, leaving me falling on my back and sliding across the blanket.

He hovered over me as he held my leg. A look of Well? etched across his face.

Thanks to Pilates, I was flexible. My left leg was stretched out and bending back toward me with the weight of Ezekiel’s shoulder pressing against it. In such a compromising position, I hoped no one was watching.

I forced out a laugh to ease the tension in case we had an audience. “We’re at a park.”

His hand felt hot on my skin as he peeked down at the pose we were in and held my gaze. “So we are.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That that’s just one item off my bucket list.”