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“Your dad and I will be there next weekend to help get the house ready to go on the market.”
“Y’all don’t have to do that.”
“I’ll be there anyway for Jewls’ shower. It will thrill your dad to drive me and hang with the other guys. Plus, he’s been wanting to talk to you further about the recent products.”
She’s so full of shit. This is code for my dad wants to lay eyes on me and then get his sights on Ford. Mom has been loose-lipped, sharing our daily conversations with him. There may be some truth to him wanting to talk to me about the products, but we message every day so he’s in the know. In each message, he finds a way to slip in a comment about my ‘seeing that fellow’.
“Not fooling me, Mom. If he comes, he better behave.”
“It’s a father’s right to spend time with your new boyfriend.”
My stomach twirls at the term. It seems juvenile to slap the title on a man like Ford, but how do I explain that?
“Spending time and interrogating are two different things. This is very new.”
“Honey, this has been in the pipeline for months.”
“Well, maybe it has, but let’s not treat Ford like a high school boy who’s playing the field.”
“He’s no boy.”
Every nerve ending in my system buzzes with electricity as the black truck pulls into the back parking lot. “I need to go. He’s here.”
“Have fun. Talk tomorrow.”
“Love you.” I disconnect and rush to the living area, checking myself in the mirror one last time.
Cruz and Alex returned from vacation today, which means I’m back at the studio full-time. Ford had an extra shift today for security, telling me he’d pick me up after he got off.
Plan for a quiet night at home. And pack a bag for tomorrow.
His last message to me sent a buzz of excitement and fear through me. There was no question whose home we’d be going to. But a quiet night could mean many things.
Will Major and Jewls be there? What about Tera?
Watch a movie? Sports? Play video games? Night swimming? Take the golf cart out? The possibilities for tomorrow are endless, which put me in a tizzy. I way over-packed, not sure what to expect.
The knock on the door jars me out of my head, and nerves kick back in as I answer. My heart lodges in my throat right before I’m off my feet and crushed against Ford’s hard body. His mouth closes over mine, his tongue diving inside. I whimper at the tangy taste of strawberry.
It’s only been ten hours, but he kisses me like we’ve been apart for days. His mouth moves greedily, his arms clenching tight.
I tear away, fighting for breath, and almost melt under the burning lust in his eyes.
“All fucking day, been waiting for this.”
“Missed you, too. Have you been stealing Twizzlers again?”
Something beautiful flashes on his face. “Ready to go?”
Here goes nothing. My nerves pick up.
I squirm out of his arms. “Actually, I wanted to show you around.”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Humor me.” I lead him to the back room and take a deep breath. This is a piece of me no one knows about.
He releases my hand, going straight to my workstation, his face blank as he inspects the bottles and jars of ingredients. A large vat of Moroccan clay gets his attention next. Little by little, he makes his way down the table, stopping at my computer.
