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“You got it, Piggy.”

Myla flinched at the finality of the four words. Miranda only called her Piggy when she was joking or fed up. The sarcastic laugh that Miranda let out before speaking let her know that the topic of Dante Helgard was over for her.

“Miranda, I’m not ignoring you. I’m processing everything you said. But—”

“There are no buts, Piggy,” Miranda interrupted.

She recognized what Myla was trying to do. She was backpedaling. Trying to renege just enough to keep Miranda on the hook. “I’m going to pick up my daughter and Mama Linda, and we’re going out to eat. You’re welcome to join us. If you don’t show up, that’s fine too,” Miranda said before ending the call.

Myla looked at the blinking message on the CarPlay screen and couldn’t believe that Miranda just ended the call.

“She can really be a bitch sometimes. She always has to be right. Miranda can never just be happy for me,” Myla said as she drove back home.

Having a full-blown argument with Miranda was not on her list of things to do. Arguing with her best friend was so draining. All she wanted to do was tell Miranda how great her breakfast date was and share with her how Dante had helped her not think about the madness that Terry had dumped into her lap. So much was on Myla’s mind that she hadn’t noticed that she had already arrived back home.

“This man better have something good for me when I get in here. Preferably a drink,” Myla said before exiting her car and entering her home.

As soon as she opened the door, she halted.

“What the…Oh, my God?” Myla said as she observed the interior of her home from the doorway. Placing her hand over her mouth in shock, she blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. No man had ever done anything so thoughtful.

Rose petals and lit tealight candles made a trail to her guest bathroom. Soft music drifted through her home. The smell of vanilla and lavender lingered in the air, but nothing was more intoxicating than the smell of something being cooked in her kitchen. Even though she never cooked, she knew the undeniable scent of home-cooked food.

Drool began to pool at the corners of her mouth. She was stuffed from having just eaten breakfast within the past hour, but the aroma was so intoxicating that her feet absentmindedly began to carry her toward the kitchen.

“Myla, come this way,” Dante’s semi-deep voice, filled with the energy of I know I’m that nigga, commanded attention and respect.

Myla’s clitoris throbbed. All of her senses were overloaded. Heat radiated through her entire body.

“Oh my God, Dante. I was only gone for seventeen minutes. How did you do this so quickly? And what are you cooking? It smells so damn good in here,” Myla said. She could hear her voice shaking with emotion. Dante also heard it. Instead of answering her question, he ignored it.

“You’re doing a lot of talking when you should be walking. Come here.” His two-finger command to come here made Myla’s knees wobble. Never had a nonverbal cue seemed so sexy.

Without saying another word, Myla followed the rose petal and candlelit path. Then screamed.

“What the fuck? What is this?” She nearly fainted when she saw that the candlelit path led to a tub filled with black water.

Dante chuckled in amusement.

“This is a Bentonite clay bath. It removes all toxins and impurities from your body. We could’ve played in clay and made pottery, but the only work of art here is you.”

Myla’s heart fluttered. She couldn’t recall ever hearing something so heartwarming.

“Dante, you’re about to make me cry. That’s so sweet of you.” She blushed.

“The only sweetheart here is you. Get undressed and soak for twenty minutes. Since you like seafood, I made some seafood hors d’oeuvres for you to sample while you’re relaxing. I’ll be right back,” Dante said as he exited the bathroom, giving her the privacy she needed to get undressed.

Myla undressed quickly, then eased into the tub of murky water. Serenity was the only word she could think of as she sat in the warm liquid. It felt as though every toxin and impurity was seeping from her pores.

“Do you mind if I interrupt?” Dante asked as he entered the bathroom with a plate.

The aroma wafting from the covered dish that Dante was carrying made Myla’s eyes open.

“Damn, did I fall asleep?” she asked, somewhat confused. She was so relaxed that she didn’t realize that she had dozed off.

“Yeah, you were asleep. Clay baths tend to do that,” he chuckled. “I made some things for you to try. Since we just ate, I didn’t want to make anything heavy. I made hors d’oeuvres for you to sample while you relax. Instead of crab cake, this is lobster cake,” Dante said as he held the bite-sized morsel with his fingers and placed it into Myla’s mouth.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The taste of butter, Old Bay, and flavors that she couldn’t identify made her moan. The lobster cake was so light that it felt as if it had melted on her tongue.