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She rolled her eyes. “Why is this so hard for you?”
“Because I’m lowkey.”
“So I’m right. There is something you’re not telling me about this place.”
“Are you done?” I tossed my chin to her cigar.
She glanced down at her smoking hand. Then Witherspoon drew the stogie to her mouth, eyeing me while inhaling theMauve-infused tobacco. Blowing it out, she asked, “This doesn’t bother you?” I shook my head, answering honestly. Then she stepped closer, agile as a feline in her leather heels. She took another pull and exhaled the fumes up into my face. My dick thickened. “Now?” I shook my head. “Why not, Jesus freak? Did Cynthia and/or any of her party of eight wife-sisters smoke?”
“No.”
“Then why isn’t this offensive to you?” She backed away to be able to look into my face.
She was testing me.
“I’m still tryna figure that out.”
“And about this place?”
She wasn’t dropping it. “I’m an investor.”
“In the winery?” I nodded. “And what about the cigar factory on the second level?”
“It’s not a factory. Just a portion of the production space here in the U.S. The factory’s in Cuba and the products are imported here…amongst other countries.”
“And you’re an investor inPor el Amor del Amor, too?”
“Nah.”
“Then what?”
“I’m an owner.”
She staggered backward, jaw dropped. “This can’t be real.” Her shocked eyes fell to the smoking stick in her little hand. She studied it with foreign eyes. “You own this?”
“Along with someone else, yeah.”
“And this wine estate?”
“Along with a few other people, yeah.”
I couldn’t share the specifics if I wanted to. She was freaking out over the summary.
Dramatically, she pulled in a deep breath and let it go, dropping her shoulders as she did it. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with you, guy,” she mumbled, laying her cigar in the tray left on the stairs. She brought it over to the table. “I need the ladies room before we hit the road.”
We’d been driving in silence for almost thirty minutes with an Afrobeat playlist she selected serenading us. I didn’t rock with that genre of music, but wasn’t turned off by what was apparently Witherspoon’s vibe. The farther north we traveled, the more dread I felt about parting ways with her. I knew I said no more and never again, but something about not being with her tonight felt unnatural.
The fuck is wrong with you, man?
I berated myself for the stupid ass longing I felt. It was what I deserved for playing with fire last week…tasting her bare skin, eating her pussy and ass, and then ultimately having her in my home. In my bed.
My whole body was tense driving home. Even my grip on the steering wheel was tight. This urgency was no joke. I readjusted myself in the chair then turned down the heat. When that didn’t work, I cracked my window for a small blast of fresh air.
“You okay?” she inquired over the music.
No!
Then she reached up and lowered the volume although it wasn’t high at all.
