Church Girl

Chapter Four

Four

“Crow tastes like ass.”

Von

“G otdammit.”

I jab the screen of my cell, glaring like it just told me to fuck myself. Tossing it on the breakfast bar, I scrub my palm down my face, tugging on my beard.

“Ain’t this some shit?” I mutter, flattening my palms on the marble top and leaning all my weight on my arms.

“Ooh, Daddy. You said a bad word. That’s five dollars in the swear jar.”

I sigh, lifting my head and meeting Gia’s gleeful smile. Little mercenary. The swear jar was my way of deterring her from parroting me and forcing myself to clean up my language. Let’s just say, I keep singles on me at all times.

Wincing, I cross to the bedazzled glass container that’s damn near full of bills. Removing five ones from my wallet, I stuff them through the slit in the top. We’ve emptied the thing four, soon to be five, times. My mouth isn’t getting any cleaner, and she’s earning her college tuition.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed?” I eye her Barbie pajamas. “I laid your clothes on the back of your chair.”

She climbs up the step stool in front of the bar and settles on the high-backed chair. “I know. But I have to eat first then get dressed. Mommy said you do things ass-backward.”

“G,” I growl, and she shrugs her shoulders, eyes wide.

“That’s what Mommy said,” she whines.

“Okay, but you know that’s a bad word. You ain’t slick, and I’m taking one of my dollars back.”

“Aw, Daddy.” She pouts, her bottom lip poking out.

“Fix your face, G. You know better.”

“Yes, sir,” she mutters, a frown drawing her eyebrows down over the bridge of her nose.

Her mother knew better, too. Or she should. Anger simmers inside me at a slow boil. I make it a point not to say anything negative about Sheree in front of Gia. Apparently, my ex-wife doesn’t give me the same courtesy. There’s no telling what other shit Sheree says or does—I don’t put a fucking thing past her.

This isn’t the first time she’s done some petty-ass things just to disrupt my house. Last month, it was changing Gia’s bedtime from eight o’clock to nine thirty, so when Gia returned home, she expected to stay up later as she’d done at her mother’s place. The month before that, it’d been getting our daughter’s ears pierced even though, previously, we’d both agreed on waiting until she was ten. I’d been so pissed, Chelle had to talk me out of driving over to my ex’s apartment.

The fucked-up part is Sheree isn’t hurting me with her antics. It’s Gia who’s paying the price. Sheree is shifting her around like a chess piece, and it’s confusing the hell out of our daughter. But my ex is too caught up in her own petty bullshit to see the consequences of her actions.

“Here.” I set the bowl of her favorite cereal with only a quarter cup of milk—just the way she prefers it—in front of Gia. Rounding the breakfast bar, I bend down and press a kiss to the top of her braids. “I love you, G.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.” Her pout gone, Gia beams up at me.

That’s just one of the many things I adore about her. That sunny personality won’t allow her to remain in a funk long. With her pretty hazel eyes and rounded cheeks, she’s the best thing I’ve ever done in this life. Gia’s a daddy’s girl, so yeah, she’s a bit spoiled. But even with the big changes our divorce has brought into her everyday world, she still remains sweet, kind and funny. After everything I’ve been through with her mother, you’d think Gia being the spitting image of Sheree would have pain knocking at me every time I looked at Gia. But my daughter isn’t her mother. I’ve worked hard to make sure that stays true.

Still, Gia adores Sheree, and I’m not na?ve enough to believe that the breaking of our family hasn’t affected her. I’ve made a promise to myself to be there for her in any way possible, no matter the time. This divorce isn’t her fault, so she shouldn’t be the one paying the cost.

Speaking of cost...

Crossing into the living room, I palm my cell, go to the call log and hit Redial on the top number. I lift the phone to my ear and listen to it ring again. And again. When a cheery voice invites me to leave a message, I swallow the curse burning my tongue. I’ve already put enough money in that jar. I end the call and tip my head back.

My nanny should’ve been here a half hour ago, and she isn’t answering her phone. I have to be at the shop in a couple of hours to do a big back piece for a client. The nanny has only been working for me five days, and she’s been late three out of those five. Now, she’s not even answering her phone or showing up. This is the second nanny Angel Care has sent. The first one didn’t even last a whole day. Once she grabbed my dick after putting Gia down for bed, I had to put her ass out.

So far, this nanny service was zero for two.

Well, three if you count the one with Aaliyah Montgomery.

Point is, I don’t have time to set up an appointment for a replacement.

Shit .

I quickly scroll to my Favorites and press the top name. After a couple of rings, my mother’s voice gives a scratchy but happy hello.

“Hey, Ma. Sorry to be calling so early and waking you up.”

“No problem, sweet pea,” she says, and I shake my head at the nickname she’s called me since I was a kid. I’m thirty-four years old, and she still hasn’t let it go. “What’s wrong?”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my braids. “The nanny is an hour late, and she’s not answering her phone. Gia’s school has an e-learning day, and I have no one to watch her. I have a client coming in, and since he’s from out of town, I can’t reschedule.” I blow out another breath, even more aggravated now that I’m saying it aloud. “I hate to impose, Ma, but do you think you could watch Gia today? This piece is going to go until the afternoon, but I’ll call the nanny agency as soon as I get to work.”

“Sweet pea, you know I’m always ready to jump at the chance to spend more time with my grandbaby. But I’m on call at the hospital. I agreed to take on an extra shift. I’m sorry.”

Ma has worked at Chicago’s Mass General for over a decade. When my sister and I were kids, Ma worked at the hospital in reception for the regular hours since Dad’s truck-driving job only had him home three or four days out of the week. But when I was fifteen and Leslie thirteen, and Ma deemed us old enough to not need as much supervision, she returned to school to pursue a nursing degree, the dream she’d put to the side years ago. She’s now an RN, and I might be biased, but one of the best Mass General ever hired. The hospital and her patients are lucky to have her.

But damn, as selfish as it is, I really wish they could do without her today.

“No need to apologize. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Now you know, in this family, that’s not true. If one of us has an issue, we all do. What about Sheree? She can’t take her for the day?”

I snort. “Yeah, right. She’s not answering, either. Probably because she sees it’s me.”

“That girl.” Ma tsks. “I just don’t get her. At all. I promise you, she better be glad I’m saved. But she don’t know, I’m from the south side of the kingdom. She can still get these hands if she don’t stop fucking with you.” She sucks her teeth. “The way she’s acting you’d think you hoe’d up one side of the East Coast and down the other. Given the dirt she’s done, no one would blame you if you did.”

Ma is the sweetest person until you mess with her kids. Just ’cause she’s a deaconess don’t mean she won’t kick some ass.

“Nah, Ma. You would blame me.”

“True.” She sighs. “Damn me for raising you with principles.”

I laugh, even though a hard knot tightens in my chest. I’m looking forward to the day when any mention of the shit show that was my marriage won’t leave me teetering between a panic attack and rage.

“Yeah, me not slinging dick on some get-back is your fault. I hope it weighs on you.”

Most mothers would be completely scandalized with my language. But not Jerusha Monae Howard. This is our relationship. Mother and son and best friends.

“Sweet pea, I really try not to think about your dick in any capacity. I’ll shoulder this guilt, though.” After her snickering dies down, she says, “Let me know what you work out for Gia. I’m going to worry until I hear from you.”

“All right, Ma, I will. Love you.”

“Love you the most,” she says, ending our call the way we have for as long as I can remember.

Sighing, I try Sheree again. After the fifth ring, I hang up. If this was anyone else, I would give them the benefit of the doubt; the ringer might be off. But I can’t extend my ex that courtesy. As long as I’ve known her, that phone ringer has never been turned down—not even in a movie theater or church. And she’s always been a light sleeper—hell, the flip of a bathroom switch could bring her out of REM. Sheree is ignoring me, and her childishness is just another thing to piss me off.

Dammit. What am I going to...

“Hold up,” I murmur to myself.

It’s a long shot, and if this works out, I’ll be eating a fuckload of crow, but I have to try. I don’t have any other choice. Switching over to my email app, I quickly locate the message that contains the information I’m looking for. Once I have the phone number, I dial it before I change my mind.

I literally can’t afford to change my mind.

She’s my last hope.

One ring. Two. Three. My lips roll in, and I’m about to end the call when the soft yet husky voice that has been following me into sleep echoes in my ear.

“Hello?”

I unclench my teeth to reply. “Aye, is this Aaliyah Montgomery?”

A long pause. “Yes.”

Throwing a glance over my shoulder toward Gia, who’s still bent over her cereal bowl, I move farther into the living room.

“Aaliyah, this is Von Howard. You came to King Tattoos a week ago to interview for a nanny position.”

“I remember who you are,” she says. And the tone, while not what the fuck do you want? isn’t exactly friendly, either.

Not that I blame her given our last interaction.

Yeah, this is going to be tougher than I imagined. But I’m desperate.

“Listen,” I forge ahead, squeezing the back of my neck, “I don’t know if Angel Care has found you another job. If they haven’t, I’d like to offer you the one with me.”

Another long pause. I’m waiting for her to tell me to take a short trip to hell, and I hold my breath. Yeah, I really do.

“What happened? Did the other option fall through? Because I’m assuming I’m still as na?ve and inexperienced today as I was when we met.”

Releasing that pent-up breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating whether to be honest or lie to get her here. I pull the phone away from my ear and peep the time. I now have an hour and a half before my client pulls up.

I need her. But it’s not in me to lie. And besides, green as she may be, something tells me she would smell my bullshit a Chicago mile away.

“I won’t lie to you—”

“I appreciate that,” she says, tone dry.

I should be annoyed at the interruption. And a part of me is, but that doesn’t stop amusement from trickling through me. “No, my mind hasn’t changed about your job experience, and yeah, the other nanny fell through as in I fired her because she’s gone from being late most days to not showing up at all. I can’t have that kind of inconsistency when it comes to my daughter. And right now, I don’t have any options. Except you. I need to be at work in a little over an hour, and there’s no one to watch my baby girl.”

More quiet over the line, and my gut dips, filling with apprehension.

“Listen,” I continue, “while I don’t apologize for putting my daughter and her welfare as my first priority, I am sorry for my delivery. I’ma be honest, I’m still not one hundred percent certain you are the right person for this job. But I have a strong feeling you wouldn’t leave my girl high and dry or be unprofessional—” i.e., grabbing my shit. Hell, Aaliyah looked like she might be a little scared of dick. “I’m willing to give you the opportunity if you’re willing to take it.”

Another beat of silence, and God—I might’ve called her out of desperation, but in this moment, I want Aaliyah Montgomery to say yes. Don’t know when that changed—don’t even know why there’s urgency humming under my skin, but it’s there. And I’m damn near close to begging her.

“Aaliyah.”

“I’m thinking,” she says. A pause, and then a sigh. “Fine. Only because I haven’t found a job yet, and I really need one. Let’s be clear, though. I won’t put up with how you spoke to me before.” A tremble works through her words, and I wonder if she’s aware of it. Even so, her voice remains low and strong. “The first time you do that, I’m out. I also won’t allow my feelings toward the father affect how I treat the daughter.”

In other words, she don’t fuck with me. Cool. I prefer it that way. As long as her focus is Gia. That’s what’s important. That and how fast she can get here. “I get that and accept it. We don’t have to be best friends. Just be there and be good for my kid.”

“Okay then.”

Relief washes through me, and my eyes close on a long exhale. “Thanks, Aaliyah. I hate to rush you, but will you be able to start today? Like in an hour?”

The sound of rustling comes through the line, and I can easily imagine her throwing back the covers, revealing that curvy, stacked body.

Shit. No, I can’t. I can not imagine that. I won’t imagine that.

“An hour? Probably not since I still have to shower, get dressed and get over to wherever you are. Speaking of, where are you?”

Shit. Rubbing a knuckle over my eyebrow, I frown. “I’m in Edison Park. Your résumé has your current address in the South Loop, right?” At her hum of affirmation, I shake my head even though she can’t see the gesture. “That’s about a half hour from me. Damn.” Striding back over to Gia, I glance over her shoulder to see if she’s finished. And she is, thank God. “Hold up a sec,” I tell Aaliyah. “G, go get dressed. And don’t start playing with that sticker kit. We need to get out of here.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She climbs down off the stool and takes off down the hall. I don’t bother reminding her about the running-in-the-house rule. The faster she gets to her bedroom and ready, the better.

“Hey, sorry ’bout that,” I say, returning my attention to the phone. “Okay, if I bring my daughter to my shop, could you meet us there?”

“Uh, yeah, I can do that. I can be there in about an hour and a half. Is that okay?”

It would have to be.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just get there as soon as you can. I don’t mind having Gia at King Tattoos for a little while, but not all day.”

I’m good with my employees, and most of our clients are cool people. But a tattoo shop with strangers coming in and out, and language that isn’t always clean isn’t the best environment for a seven-year-old.

“Okay, I understand. I’ll be there as soon as possible. And, Mr. Howard?”

“Von,” I correct, a note of impatience creeping into my voice. All the other details we can hash out at the shop. I need to get Gia and be out.

“Von,” she murmurs, and that soft yet husky lilt wrapped around my name slides right through me, strokes over my skin. Fists my dick. Gotdammit . “I just wanted to say thank you for the opportunity. I look forward to proving you wrong.”

A smile curves my lips before I can contain it. But as soon as it tips the corners of my mouth, I deliberately straighten it. “I hope you do, Aaliyah. See you in a little bit.”

Without waiting for her to say goodbye, I end the call. And stare down at the phone screen. Giving my head one last hard shake, I turn to find G. It’s a little too quiet, and something tells me there’s more playing with stickers going on in there than dressing.

It’s never a dull moment around here.

“Hey, Von. Aaliyah Montgomery is here.”

I glance up from adding ink to the caps lined up on the red tool chest and give Malcolm a nod. “Cool. Thanks. I’ll be right out. Gia still up front with you?”

“Yeah. Heads up. She’s rearranged the piercing case by prettiest to ugliest.”

I cock my head. “Malcolm, seriously? I left her up there with a week’s full of coloring books. And you let her fuck with the jewelry?”

He shrugs, completely unrepentant. “Listen, man. I don’t know how it happened. One second, I was saying no, stick with the crayons, and in the next, she hit me with the lip tremble. I’on care what you say. Drag me. But yeah, I gave in and let her do whatever she wanted. Your daughter’s a savage, bruh.”

“Weak ass,” I mutter. I can’t really blame him, though. Gia uses her cuteness like a weapon of mass destruction. “Here I come.”

“Bet.” He claps the doorjamb and disappears.

“Terrel, can you give me a minute? This won’t take long at all,” I say to my client, peeling off my black gloves.

“Yeah, no problem. Handle your business.”

He gives me a chin jerk over his shoulder. I already transposed the design for his back tattoo onto his skin. The blue outline of a grim reaper grasping a scythe and a pocket watch dangling from his long, bony fingers looks bad as fuck, and I haven’t even started tattooing it yet. Terrel is a longtime customer, and one of my firsts. He’s allowed only me to do his ink for the past fifteen years. The first five when I worked in my uncle’s shop and the last ten here at King Tattoos. Even though he no longer lives in the Chicago area, having moved to Charlotte, North Carolina, a couple of years ago, he still comes to see me and get new work done when he’s here visiting his family. Which is why I couldn’t miss this appointment. Not only could he not reschedule since he leaves for Charlotte in the morning, but he’s a friend and loyal client who I didn’t want to cancel on.

I head out of my room, closing the door behind me. It’s a perk of being the owner. My artists have wide, spacious booths, but I work in my own room. Plus, if I have celebrity clients like athletes or artists, it affords them privacy.

Reaching the opening that leads into the lobby, I frown at the sight of Gia’s head poked into the jewelry display case. The fuck? Now we’re going to have to sterilize everything in that damn thing. Still, watching her jerk and shift to the latest Gunna hit playing through the shop’s speakers in what, I guess, is her idea of dancing almost draws a smile from my face. Then I remember she’s fucking with my shit and rapping along to a song she has no business knowing the words to.

“Gia,” I growl.

She stills, and slowly—because her little ass knows she’s wrong—emerges from the jewelry case.

“Hi, Daddy.” She beams, and while that smile might pinch my heart, I fold my arms across my chest and don’t lose the frown. Seeing this, she even has the nerve to give me a little finger wave. Again, I have to force myself not to smile. “I was helping Malcolm! Do you like it?”

“Gia, what did we talk about on our way here?” Her eyes lower and shift to the side, her mouth twisting into a small pout. Yeah, she knows she’s wrong as hell. “G? What did I say?”

“To sit my little ass down and color and don’t touch nuthin’,” she mumbles.

“That’s right. And when you get your allowance Friday, you gon’ give me a dollar for the swear jar.”

“But, Daddy,” she whines, her face balling up. “That’s what you said!”

“Aye, lower your voice when talking to me. You know I don’t do that. And yeah, I said it. But you know not to repeat that word. You think you being slick. For trying to play me, I should make you give me two dollars.”

Wisely, she doesn’t say anything back. Even though she’s seven, my baby values those five dollars she earns at the end of every week. She probably has more money in that dragon-shaped bank than I have in my bank account.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she says, tilting her head back and looking me in the eye. “I won’t touch nuthin’ else.”

“That’s my girl. And thank you for the apology. You showing me what a big girl you are.”

At my praise, a grin breaks across her face again. Thank God she has no idea how much I adore her or that I would burn this fucking world to the ground for her. She would be a goddamn terror if she did.

A soft cough reminds me that we have an audience, and damn. For a moment, I forgot about Aaliyah being here. I switch my attention from Gia to the petite woman standing on the other side of the front desk.

“Hey, Aali—” I scowl, cocking my head and staring at her. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The smile softening her face evaporates, and she matches my frown. In spite of the glare she’s shooting my way, amusement wells up within me. It’s almost like watching a panda mug me. Too cute to be taken seriously.

Yeah, I need to shut that shit down.

There’s nothing cute about my new nanny. Not that I can notice anyway. One, I need her, since my last two were absolute shit shows. Two, all that innocence makes my ass itch.

And three, no matter how beautiful this woman is, she has trouble written all over her, like the time Gia took a blue crayon to her wall when she was three. Bright as fuck and impossible to get rid of.

Last time I didn’t heed that shit, I ended up with a wife who turned into my bitter and bitchy ex. As George Bush once said, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me—you can’t get fooled again.” Ol’ boy fucked that saying up, but he ain’t wrong.

“What’s wrong with me?” Aaliyah asks. There’s an edge to her tone, but a hint of red stains her rounded cheekbones.

“Last time you walked up in here looking like you were headed to a Sunday prayer service and now...” I wave a hand up and down her small, ridiculously hot frame. Shit, even if that soft, honeyed drawl hadn’t announced she came from the South, that corn bread–fed body would. Baby girl’s curves are sick. And damn, I wish she was back in that nun’s habit.

“And now, what?” She pops her fists on the wide, dick-hardening flare of her hips.

I shrug. “Now you look like you’re ready for hot girl summer.”

She glances down at herself, and shit, so do I.

So I exaggerated. But given what she wore in here last time, the short-sleeved green shirt conforming to her small, perfect breasts and gently rounded belly, and the tight, high-waisted jeans shrink-wrapped to those thick thighs might as well be some shorts and shirt with her ass and tits hanging out. Those cinnamon-colored freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks don’t even diminish her sexiness.

She stares at me, seemingly speechless. For a moment, uncertainty flickers across her face, but in the next second, it’s gone. So fast that maybe I imagined it because her face blanks just as it’d done over a week ago when she’d been in my office. And like then, a curiosity I don’t want gnaws at me. Who taught her that defense mechanism? More, why? Deliberately hurting this woman would be like kicking a puppy.

“Let’s start over,” she says, her voice as even as her expression is bland. “I’m here in the hour and a half I promised when you called. Now, can I meet your daughter?”

Oh okay. The kitten has claws. Tiny, baby claws, but there, nonetheless. I’m analyzing why this pleases me, but damn if it doesn’t. She might sound tougher if her voice didn’t hold a slight quiver, but I’m feeling grateful today, so I won’t point it out. If she really wants to scare somebody, lil’ mama better work on that. Other people out here will take that as a sign of weakness and eat her up.

And not in the way that will have her thighs shaking around someone’s head as she screams their name.

Fuck. My gaze drops to said thighs because, shit, I’m human.

But I’m also her new employer, for fuck’s sake. That reminder snatches a knot in my ass real quick, and I shift my focus back where it should be—Gia.

“G.” She looks at me, and surprise that she’s remained quiet all this time flashes through me. I reach my hand out to her, and she wraps her small fingers around mine. I walk her over to Aaliyah. “This is your new nanny, Miss Aaliyah. Aaliyah, my daughter, Gia Howard.”

“Hi,” Gia whispers, crowding closer to my leg. While she’s talkative as hell, that’s only after she warms up to a person. The fact that she doesn’t even ask why Aaliyah’s here instead of her old nanny says a whole sermon.

“Hi, Gia. That’s such a pretty name. But then again, you’re a pretty girl.” Smiling, Aaliyah hunkers down in front of us. So this is what she’d look like if she knelt for my— gotdammit, no . I shut that thought down with so much force, I feel a twinge at my temples. Aaliyah offers Gia her hand. “You can call me Aaliyah. No need for Miss, okay? Can I call you Gia or do you prefer Miss Gia?”

I swallow a snort as my daughter’s giggle vibrates against my leg. “I’m not a Miss.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Aaliyah scrunches her face up. “You look like a Miss. What’re you? Twelve? Fourteen?”

“I’m seven!” Gia announces, moving away from me.

Aaliyah gives a shocked gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “Wow. Seven. You had me fooled.” She grins, and hand still hovering between them, she waits for Gia to take it, which she does. Aaliyah pumps her hand up and down then releases Gia. Rising to her feet, she says, “Since you’re a big ol’ seven, and I’m new here, you want to show me the ropes? My cousin told me about this place we can try out. You heard of Sloomoo?”

Gia steps closer to Aaliyah. Her wide eyes and smile betray her excitement. As does the bounce she gives on her toes. “Yes!” All it took was the promise to play in some slime, and Gia’s moving to Aaliyah’s side, taking her hand once more. “It’s so much fun! Bye, Daddy!”

“Bye, Daddy? Wow, it’s like that?” I arch an eyebrow. I’m pleased their first meeting went well. Still, it stings a little that she’s willing to ditch me for her new friend and slime. I look at Aaliyah. “How you two getting over there? You drive?”

“I do drive, but I don’t have a car. I was just going to Uber over there then back to your house after some lunch.”

I nod. “Aight. But you can’t take a rideshare everywhere. That’ll work for today but not when you need to pick her up for school and go other places. All that will eventually add up.”

“I understand, but unfortunately, I don’t have a car for the time being, so Uber it is.”

“That’s not gon’ work. I don’t want my little girl getting in cars with strangers. People on some foul shit out here. Hold up.”

I turn around and stride back toward my office before she opens that mouth and contradicts me again. She doesn’t know yet, but I don’t run no damn democracy. I have the final say. Especially when it comes to Gia.

A minute later, I return and hold out the keys to my Ford F-150 XLT. After a brief hesitation, she accepts the keys, staring down at them like they’re foreign objects.

“I thought you said you could drive,” I say.

She snaps her gaze up to me. “I can but... I don’t know about being responsible for someone else’s car.”

“You’re good. It’s safer than climbing in and out of different people’s cars. And it has GPS, so you don’t have to worry about getting lost. Chicago no doubt has more traffic than you’re used to in—wherever you come from.”

“Parsons,” she says, that spicy edge back in her voice. “Parsons, Alabama.”

“Uh-huh, lil’ mama. I don’t care what way you say it, that shit still sounds country as fuck.” Her eyes narrow, and I’m pretty sure she’s calling me about six different kinds of dicks in her head. I don’t care about that, either. “I’ll get a ride home after I’m through here for the day, and then we can figure out the rest.”

“Fine.”

“I got your number, and you should have mine now. Save it and text me when you get to Sloomoo. Know what? Just hit me up when you move to different places so I know where you at.”

“Yes, sir.”

I pause, studying her face, taking in the irritation shadowing those toffee-colored eyes, the sprinkle of freckles, the heavy bottom lip and the delicate but stubborn chin. The dimples are nowhere in sight. Good. Those shits are overkill in a face that belongs on somebody’s fresco wall, and not in a Chicago tattoo shop.

What also doesn’t belong?

The heat licking up my spine and the underside of my dick. I’m not into BDSM, but I’m a fucking man. And hearing her utter those two words while staring at me with that damn innocence bleeding from her pores like an expensive perfume? Yeah, my dick’s bricking up and ain’t a damn thing I can do about it.

“You might want to kill that shit, ma,” I murmur low enough for only her to hear. “That and the little attitude you call yourself having gon’ get you in trouble you don’t want.”

Her eyes flare wide, and her lips part as red rushes into her face, staining that flawless brown skin. My gaze drops to those still-parted lips, and a better man than me could keep away the image of tapping his dick on that lush bottom one before pushing deep inside.

I’m not that man.

Clearing her throat, she steps back, and I have to check the urge to disappear that space she placed between us.

Employee.

Gia’s nanny.

Both reasons are enough to cool the lust whistling through me like one of those tornadoes that whip through her home state. I can’t afford to antagonize her because I don’t have another nanny option right now. And Gia needs her. So do I.

Besides, as hot as Aaliyah is, that Disney-princess shit she got going on is a turnoff. I already spent more years than I should’ve with a woman who acted like she didn’t know how to operate in this world without me providing for her, buying for her, telling her what to do. Dependence isn’t sexy on a full-grown woman.

Yeah, Aaliyah has this job and she mentioned attending school, but that doesn’t mask the fact that she’s a lamb in a lion’s den. I give her two months, tops. She’s going to be headed back to Parsons, Alabama.

“I’ll text you when we get to Sloomoo,” she murmurs. Switching her attention to Gia, she smiles, and nope, I don’t miss the relief in her tone. “You ready, Gia?”

“Yep.” She heads toward the exit, tugging a laughing Aaliyah behind her. “See you later, Daddy!”

“Bye, G. Behave yourself.”

“I will.” She waves to me, not even bothering to look over her shoulder. That girl has slime on her mind.

Just as Aaliyah pushes the entrance door open, it swings back, and Chelle steps in, nearly bumping into my new nanny. “Oh, my bad. Hey, G.” Grinning, Chelle bends down and holds her hand up for a high five. After Gia slaps her palm, Chelle pulls her in for a quick hug. “And hello again. Aaliyah, isn’t it?”

Aaliyah nods. “Yes, and it’s nice to see you again.”

“Same—”

“Auntie Chelle, Aaliyah’s taking me to Sloomoo!” Gia interrupts, back to bouncing on her toes in her excitement and impatience. “We have to go.”

“Okay, okay, dang. I won’t hold you up.” Chelle laughs then says, “Aaliyah, I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other since you’re taking care of lil’ G. I’ma get your number from Von, and maybe we can get some drinks later.”

Even with the distance of the lobby between us, the wide smile that lights up Aaliyah’s face has me blinking.

Damn.

She’s so fucking beautiful. And she doesn’t even know it.

“I’d love that.” Gia tugs on Aaliyah’s hand again, and she chuckles. “We need to get out of here, but I’ll see you later.”

“Bet.”

Aaliyah turns back to the door, pushing it open for Gia. Because I’m a glutton for punishment with an eye problem, my gaze drops, skimming over that work-of-art ass that’s just sitting up there.

Fuck .

My fingers and palms itch with the urge to shape my hands to those firm, lush curves.

“Let me find out you into young, fresh-off-the-Greyhound chicks.”

I jerk my head toward a grinning Chelle. She cocks her head, staring after Aaliyah and Gia as they pass by the shop’s storefront window. Then she returns her gaze to me. “That ass is pretty, ain’t it?” She smirks.

“Leave her ass alone, Chelle,” I growl. “Literally.”

My best friend’s attracted to who she’s attracted to. Gender doesn’t factor into it. He, she, they... As long as they’re sexy to her, she’ll pursue them.

“Is that an order from my friend or...”

“It’s an order from your employer, who would be mad as hell if the nanny quits because my tattoo artist breaks her heart.”

That’s another thing about Chelle. Monogamy is just a word after money and before monopoly in the dictionary. As long as I’ve known her, she’s never been in a situationship that lasted longer than three months. She has her reasons, and some of them are valid, I’ll give her that. But mostly, she don’t trust not one muthafucka if it ain’t me or her brother.

She shrugs, but that little smile still rides her mouth. “If you wanna save Dolly for yourself, just say that.”

“Dolly?” I mug her. “Who the fuck is Dolly?”

“Her.” She tips her head toward the door. “With that accent, hair and smile, tell me you don’t think of Dolly Parton. I mean, she doesn’t have the tits but...” She shrugs.

“Nah. She definitely doesn’t bring Dolly Parton to mind.”

Now Lauren London with that tiny waist, fat ass, thick thighs, big brown eyes and dimples? Yeah, her I can see.

“Whatever.” Chelle waves off my words and goes back to grinning. “I notice you didn’t say anything about not wanting her.”

“He gave her the keys to the F-150, too, Chelle,” Malcolm chimes in.

I glare at him. “Aye, bruh. Don’t you have some business to take care of?”

“Nope.” He snickers.

“Say what?” Chelle leans back, dragging her gaze up and down my body. “Hold up, hold up.” She pops up her hand. “You let Dolly drive your precious F-150? You don’t even let me sit my ass in the driver’s seat. And you’ve known her, what? All of five minutes?”

“Yep,” Malcolm throws in.

“The fuck happened to Von Howard and when is he phoning home? ’Cause some muthafucking body snatchers had to beam down here and grab his ass.”

Flipping her off, I stalk back toward the desk. “I don’t have time for this. I got a client I need to get back to.”

“This ain’t over,” Chelle calls after me.

The fuck it ain’t. I don’t have anything else to say.

I also don’t have an explanation. Nothing either of them would accept. And the one I gave Aaliyah is true but even in my head falls flat when they’re absolutely right. No one drives my baby but me. I can’t make it make sense.

So I don’t bother.

As I pass the display case, I slow my steps. And peer through the glass to where Gia had been hard at work. A smile spreads across my face and I chuckle. She really had started organizing the pieces from prettiest to ugliest, in her opinion. The butterfly, flower, and diamond-crusted studs and loops lined up along the front while the plain bells, bars and skulls are shoved to the back.

“Malcolm, since you don’t have no work and so much free time on your hands, sterilize this jewelry and get it all put back.”

“Damn. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

I don’t answer but keep moving until I’m outside the room where I left Terrel. Pausing a few seconds, I briefly close my eyes and will my body to calm down.

It wouldn’t do to enter back in there with a hard dick.

Shit. Aaliyah is already fucking with me, and she’s only been working for me twenty minutes.

Trouble.

That woman is trouble, just like I said.