10. Mica
In the days that followed Mica kept busy by fully incorporating herself as the owner and interim general manager of Bellamy Motors. With Mr. Finksburg’s help she was able to get all of the legal paperwork squared away. Rock and Otto were on hand to assist in the transition on the sales floor and with the remaining staff, as Nash had conveniently taken his vacation. She tried not to think about that.
“So, is it over?” Pamela asked when they’d spoken on the phone last night. “Between you and the biker, I mean, is that over? Because the way you were talking when we spoke briefly on Saturday morning, something was definitely getting started there.”
Mica sighed. The reason she’d been talking like something was getting started between her and Nash was because that’s what she’d believed. No, she wasn’t saying she was head over heels in love with him, but there was definitely a connection, both mentally and physically. Even though now, in retrospect, she wasn’t sure how they would have had a mental connection when neither of them knew a key component about the other.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “He hasn’t been at work so I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.”
“You could call him,” Pam said.
Refusing to sigh again, but rolling her eyes instead, Mica replied, “I don’t have his number.”
“Oooookay. So, you spent the night with this hot as hell biker or mechanic or whatever, and then joined him the next day when he was out doing some community shit that I’ve got to say sounds sexy as hell. You enjoyed the sex immensely and even had a good time at the fundraising event. But now, the two of you aren’t speaking. Sounds like a high school drama to me.”
“I wasn’t honest with him about who I was and why I was here,” she told Pam.
“And he wasn’t honest with you about doing time for his kid brother years ago. I get it, both of you held something back. But from where I’m standing you two hadn’t taken much time to get to know each other before you jumped into bed. Still, you felt fine enough with that fact to do the nasty all night and morning long. What’s the big deal about finding out now?”
Mica didn’t know the answer to that question. In fact, from her end, she didn’t think any less of Nash because he’d been incarcerated. Maybe he thought she would be and that’s why he hadn’t told her. Just as she’d thought he wouldn’t understand who she was and why this job was so important to her. At any rate, it didn’t matter now because Nash obviously had nothing more to say to her.
That was fine, she had more important things to occupy her mind with. Earl had been siphoning cash from the business almost since the first day he’d started working there. She had seen the signs the moment she’d begun looking at the books. Through all of her studies she’d been trained to scrutinize accounts and to find what was meant to be buried in the checks and balances. He’d started small, with amounts that equaled his paycheck which he’d marked as a bonus. Then he’d grown bolder, by special ordering bikes and heavily insuring them. The bikes would then be taken out for a test drive and damaged or broken in some way. The shop workers would fix the bike and Banyon would send the invoices to the insurance company. There were invoices to the insurance company for the fees, but no record of the insurance payments being credited to the dealership account. When she first suspected he was somehow managing to cash those checks that should’ve been made payable to the dealership, she called Finksburg and he’d hired a private investigator to quietly look into Banyon’s financials. And to top it all off, every one of the cuts that Banyon had told the staff about—the health insurance rate hike, ending the daycare program and stopping the profit-sharing incentive—were bogus. The health insurance rate was the same as it had been for the past two years, the increased biweekly amounts noted on each employee’s paystubs was matched with amounts deposited to Banyon’s bank statements on coordinating pay dates, something he managed because he did the payroll himself. Similar to the health insurance, Banyon had attempted to hike up that rate and pocket the increase, but the daycare owner had gotten wind of that from one of the former dealership employees, and the owner had threatened to expose him. But Banyon had apparently threatened her right back with some sort of code violations in her building he somehow knew about. So, instead of either of them losing out, they decided to sever ties. As for the profit sharing, it ended for every employee except Banyon.
That man and his surly attitude was going down. Mica was going to see to that personally. Just as soon as she completed the mountain of insurance claim forms for each of the bikes that had been stolen. Rock had offered to help but as the Rendezvous was only two months away, there was an influx in bikes to be serviced. Likewise, the sales force was busy trying to keep up with the new customers coming in. Some of them would try to purchase new bikes as their attempt to make up for the ones that were stolen. Those were the customers that stayed loyal to Bell. Others were via a new MC club that Rock said formed just a few weeks ago. Eighteen riders and ten of them needed bikes. Mica wanted Bellamy Motors to be the one to provide them. For that, she put Kandra in charge of coming up with a new marketing plan to effectively target each and every club along the east coast.
There had been a lot of progress in the past three days and Mica was proud of herself and grateful to the staff for standing by her. At least most of them.
The new phone system that had been installed rang like an alarm—a series of beeps instead of a simple ringtone. With a shake of her head because she was still amused by it, she picked up the receiver and answered, “Mica Monroe, how may I help you?”
“Ms. Monroe, this is Deputy Reid Cedi.” She remembered him. He was the first cop on the scene the night of the burglary.
“Hello, Deputy Cedi. What can I do for you today?”
She’d spoken to him several times since Saturday night and had decided that she liked the guy.
“Wanted to let you know that we have a suspect in custody.”
“Really?” She sat up in her chair, letting her elbows fall to the table.
“Yeah. Got him locked up real tight. But I need your signature on a couple pages of the report and the missing item inventory before we can ship everything up to the DA’s office to have him indicted. Can you come down to the station?”
“Certainly. I can be there in half an hour,” she told him.
“That’ll be fine. I’ll be here waiting.”
It only took Mica twenty minutes to get to the police station. She’d become very familiar with the streets of Destine. As she parked her car in front of the bakery and activated the locks before crossing the cobblestone street, she thought how much she’d also grown to like this town.
She walked in and looked around at a small space that reminded her so much of the old Andy Griffith show her mother loved to watch that she almost smiled. There were two desks a few feet from the door and further back another, larger desk, where she supposed the sheriff sat. Towards the back were bars, the jail cells, she decided with a sigh.
“Thanks for coming down Ms. Monroe,” Deputy Cedi said as he stood from one of the two desks where he sat.
“It was no problem,” Mica said. But as she started to walk around the two potted plants—that were dying by the way—positioned one in front of each desk, somebody yelled.
“Hey pretty lady!”
Mica turned towards the sound of the voice and was shocked to see Henley Waters smiling at her from behind those bars.
Nash stared at the offer letter one more time. He needed to even though this was to the tenth time he’d read it.
The Blackbond Group was offering him a job as Executive Designer. He would manage the entire design team at their factory headquarters in Alexandria. In addition to managing a team of engineers, Nash would also be designing his own line of bikes, one of which—the design he’d submitted to them for consideration—would be called the Bell927; the day Bell would have turned sixty years old. And as if that weren’t incentive enough, they were starting him with a high six figure salary, which was much more than he was making now, plus bonuses and a special commission on bikes that would be offered exclusively under his special brand.
It was his dream come true, and then some. A fact he’d reiterated three days ago when he sat in a booth at Spades, Destine’s only casino.
“What’s the problem?” Fury, the owner of the Blackbond Group and an old friend of Nash’s asked.
The man was eight years older than Nash and probably a good sixty or seventy pounds heavier. At six feet three inches tall, Fury Mathias was built like a beast—broad shoulders, wide chest, beefy hands. All of which had worked well as he played defensive lineman on his high school and college football teams. The fact that women loved his Aldis Hodge lookin’ ass was a plus for him and a burden for some of the other Ryders in the building.
The bonus for Nash was that he and Fury had remained on good terms long after Nash had decided to walk away from the Ryders.
“Who says I’ve got a problem?” He responded to Fury’s question with one of his own.
Fury chuckled and lifted a finger to rub over his chin. “Oh, you must have one since you aren’t jumpin’ up and down thanking me for this offer.”
Now, it was Nash’s turn to laugh. “Man, I ain’t doin’ no tap dance for you and you know it.”
With a slow nod, Fury continued grinning. “Yeah, I know. You’re a mean stubborn ass somebody. You just keep that shit on the low.”
Nash shrugged. “Trying to keep myself out of trouble.”
“It’s a good look for you,” Fury said, sobering a bit. “That’s why I had Zayn circle back to you. We need to make this happen, Nash. Get you on board so we can all make this money the right way.”
The Platinum Ryders owned this casino. Fury’s sister, Maleeka, managed it. His brother KC worked at Blackbond on the automotive side. Zayn was their cousin and he owned a couple of barber shops here in Destine and one a couple of towns over in Providence. But that was all a cover, a legalized shield for the criminal enterprise that had been built over four generations of the Mathias clan and the bikers who linked up with them.
It had taken Nash a couple of years of hanging with and then riding with the club to figure out everything that was going on. They didn’t give the newbies the heavy jobs so from the time Nash was fourteen until he turned sixteen, he’d hadn’t done much more than shoot pool and get pussy when he was at the compound. That all changed the first time Fury took him for a ride. And that shit further changed the day Nash decided to take the charge for his younger, eager, and definitely more stupid brother.
“It’s a really good offer,” Nash replied.
“Right!” Fury added. “So, sign your name on the dotted line and let’s get started. I can’t wait to get you an exclusive line of racing bikes. You know how much money we’re gonna make off those team sponsors and shit? I’m out here trying to make a legitimate name for myself and my family and I need you on board.”
Fury’s mother had passed away from complications of Lupus a few years back. His father hadn’t taken it well and mostly stayed in that big house down by the water where he’d raised his family. In addition to him, Maleeka and KC were all the blood family Fury had. The Ryders though, they were still about sixty deep and everyone of them would die for Fury’s ass. He may have given the official title of president over to Zayn, but there was no denying that he was still the boss.
Nash wasn’t sure he was ready for Fury to be his boss though. Which was part of the reason he’d asked for a few days to think things over.
That didn’t totally explain why he was sitting in his favorite recliner tonight feeling like shit though.
He’d been holed up in his apartment for the last three days having one hell of a pity-party and the rest of the apple cobbler from Lola’s.
He was angry with Mica for not telling him who she really was and even angrier with himself for falling so hard and so fast for a woman he barely knew.
Bell had a daughter. A beautiful, tenacious and passionate daughter. She’d come here all the way from Paris to save her father’s company. And, from what he’d heard from Rock, she’d done it. Earl was gone, customers were pouring in and Mica had re-instituted the childcare and profit-sharing benefits. She was doing what she’d said she would do and that was a good thing.
Still, Nash didn’t want her to do good things. He wanted her to mess up royally and have to run back to Paris with her tail tucked between her legs. It was a temptingly round tail, but whatever.
The staff was getting to know her. Rock said she ate with them in the lunchroom two days in a row and she liked fried pork chops. Rock loved to eat any and every part of the pig so that was music to his ears.
Nash didn’t care.
Yet, he definitely did. A fact which only pissed him off more.
He’d really liked Mica and he couldn’t remember when the last time he’d ever really liked a woman before. She liked bikes, or she was coming to like bikes and she was adventurous and caring. He’d watched her more than he wanted to admit while they’d been at the fundraiser. The way she’d talked to the children and helped the smaller ones with the games until they won a prize had been touching and very telling about the woman she was. Even if he hadn’t known her full name at the time.
He’d spent two hours on his laptop searching for the magazine article that featured Michel Lynette Monroe. He’d found it and had smiled at how fresh and pretty she looked sitting next to a woman who clearly should have been on the other side of a camera herself. There had been no question of what had first attracted Bell to Ms. Cecile Monroe, an absolutely stunning brunette with lively blue eyes.
Mica was Bell’s daughter alright; they had the same forehead and high cheekbones. The same tenacious spirit and burning curiosity. The same love of business, it seemed, as she was now the owner of Bellamy Motors.
And if Nash didn’t know better, he’d think he’d been falling in love with her.
It was a good thing his phone rang at that moment because he was driving himself crazy having these same thoughts over and over again.
“Yeah?” he answered not really in the mood to talk even though he’d welcomed the intrusion.
“Nash man, you gotta do me a huge favor,” Henley spoke from the other end.
Squeezing the bridge of his nose Nash sighed. “I don’t gotta do anything, Hen. What’s going on?”
“I’m locked up. I just need you to go over to my place and get that bag from inside of the Cheerios box. Bring it down here and bail me out.”
Nash had gone still the moment his brother began speaking. “Dammit Henley! How many times are you going to do this?”
“Look, I don’t need all this talkin’. Can you just go get my money and get me the hell out of here?”
“I’m not gonna keep bailing you out, man. You’ve got to get yourself together,” Nash told him.
“You’re not bailing me out, Nash. It’s my money, remember?”
That wasn’t the point and it was so like Henley to not get that part at all.
“What did you do?” he asked after a heavy sigh.
“I didn’t do anything,” Henley grumbled.
It was his typical response and Nash was tired of hearing it.
“What did they arrest you for?” he asked because it seemed his brother needed the shit broken down for him.
Henley swore. “Are you gonna get the money or not?”
“No,” Nash replied and disconnected the call.
He was tired of Henley and his antics. His brother simply refused to learn. No matter what Nash said, Henley was determined to walk his own path, even if that path was sure to lead to extended jail time, or worse, death. But hell, maybe it was time Nash let him do just that. Maybe it was time Henley spent some hard time in jail as Nash had done all those years ago. He really believed that, and yet, he’d already moved from the recliner and picked up his keys from the table near the door. He was walking out of his apartment in less than five minutes, cursing his brother every step of the way.
There was a sense of dread—much heavier than he’d felt after first receiving Henley’s call—when Nash walked into the police station. That could’ve been attributed to the two men dressed in suits with dour looks on their faces, standing near one of the desks in the front area of the room. They each had their hands in their pockets, pushing their jackets back so that the gun holstered on their side was visible. Deputy Ferris, who Nash had known since high school, was talking quietly to the men. He looked up and greeted Nash with a nod before coming over to speak with him.
“Hey, Ferris,” Nash greeted him because they’d had an occasion or two to chop it up while sitting at the counter having a meal at Lola’s.
“Nash,” Ferris said as he accepted Nash’s outstretched hand for a shake. “I assume Henley called you.”
“Yeah, he did. What’s he in for this time?”
“Got him on burglary. We managed to lift some prints from the door to the shop and there was a chain cutter in the parking lot that had a perfect set of prints.”
Because it wasn’t new to be in the police station asking about Henley, Nash was only half listening to Ferris. He was, instead, paying much more attention to the guys in suits that had now also turned their attention to him.
“Who are they?” Nash asked nodding in the direction of the men.
There was no need for Ferris to even turn around and look at who Nash was referring to. “That’s the other thing and it’s actually going to make posting Henley’s bail a little more difficult this time around.”
“What?” Nash asked. “They’re here for Henley?”
Ferris nodded. “They’re Feds, Nash. Seems they’ve been watching Henley for months now as a part of some big drug sting that spans from Prince George’s County to Atlantic City and New York. They got the entire dealership burglary on their surveillance tapes.”
“Wait a minute,” Nash said, hearing exactly what Ferris was saying for the first time. “Are you telling me that Henley’s responsible for stealing the bikes from Bellamy Motors?”
In a somber gesture filled with the pity that only pissed Nash off further, Ferris shrugged. “They’re taking custody of him as soon as the sheriff finishes going over all the paperwork.”
Nash was gritting his teeth so hard at this point he thought he might end up with jaw damage. He was so fuckin’ pissed with his brother, pissed and just a little bit afraid of what might actually be coming down the line for Henley.
“Where is he?” he managed to ask.
“Back there in the cell.”
Nash had already begun walking back in that direction when he heard Ferris saying something about other visitors, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care what else was being said, he had some words for his brother. Moments later Nash came to a quick stop as he realized maybe he should’ve listened more closely to Ferris. Now, nobody was speaking as he stood only a few feet away from Mica.
“Well, now that we’re all here,” Henley said his hands gripping the bars, his smiling face pressed between them. “We can take care of the formalities and then head over to Lola’s for a late lunch. I’m starving.”
“You’re an asshole,” Nash stated. “How could you do it, Hen? How could you steal from the one person that not only cared enough to give me a shot, but bailed your sorry ass out a time or two over the years?”
Henley shrugged. “I had mad respect for old Bell and was sorry to see him go, but he is gone Nash. And like I said, Earl’s planning to sell that place. I owed money to some really ignorant guys upstate, I had to get it quick or they were gonna kill my ass. What other choice did I have?” Henley asked in a whisper shout. Even though it didn’t really matter now. The police didn’t need a confession from him, not when they had it all on tape.
“You could’ve chosen to do the right thing! For once in your life, Henley, you could have done what a normal citizen would do. Get a damn job, be happy with what you have and live your life! Nobody owes you any more than that.”
“Bullshit! Why should I be stuck working some minimum wage job just because I don’t have some fuckin’ diploma or a college degree? Do you know how many applications I’ve filled out and how many interviews I went on just to have nobody return my calls. The only thing they thought I could do was flip burgers at the McDonald’s at the travel stop. I’m better than that Nash and you know it!” Henley shouted.
“How many times did I tell you to go back and get your GED? There were free classes at the community center every summer. Bell said he’d give you a shot in the shop if you did that, but you never did,” Nash said.
“I’m not a grease monkey like you, bowing and dancing to the almighty Bell’s every word.” Henley scowled. “I got higher goals than that. And you should’ve had them too. You got all those hot ass designs that could be making you some real money, but you stayed in that shop working like Bell’s and then Earl’s slave, while both of them got rich. Where’s the logic in that big brother?”
Nash nodded his head and for the first time in the years since their parents’ death, he realized something Bell had tried to tell him. Henley had long ago made up his mind that a life of crime was the best life for him. Nothing Nash did or said over the years had worked to convince his brother otherwise.
“I’m proud of the work I do now, Henley. Can you say the same? Are you really proud of stealing and selling drugs to people, catering to an addiction that will eventually kill them? Is that the legacy you want to leave on this world?”
Henley was shaking his head. “You know they ain’t never gonna let a Black man get ahead in this world. All we can do is take what we want, cause they ain’t givin’ us a damn thing.”
“No, Henley, nobody is going to give you anything. They shouldn’t. But you can damn sure earn what you want out of life. I know because I was blessed enough to have somebody give me a chance. I’ve earned everything I have.”
“Yeah, well, do you have my bail money? I’m ready to get the hell out of here,” was his sour retort. The smile that was usually on Henley’s face had changed to a twisted grimace that only reminded Nash of how angry his brother really was and had been for far too long.
“No. I didn’t go get any stash money you had. You should probably save that for the lawyer you’re going to need because I’m not helping you out this time, man. I’m done calling lawyers and making sure you show up for court dates. Even if Bell is dead, you stole from his daughter and you’ve embarrassed me for the last time.”
Nash turned to leave hearing his brother calling his name and a few other names that weren’t on Nash’s birth certificate. But he didn’t give a damn. He was hurt and pissed off and all he could think about was returning to his safe place and plopping down in his favorite recliner once more.
“Nash!”
He stopped the moment he heard her call his name. He’d stalked through the police station, past those Men In Black looking Feds and pushed the glass door open so hard it was a good thing it was on automatic soft close hinges. A truck whizzed by and a horn blared somewhere in the distance, just as he turned around to face her.
She looked so fuckin’ pretty standing there in black pants that fit her perfectly and knee-high camel colored suede boots that matched the leather jacket she wore. Her hair was loose and framed her face in soft waves, her eyes bright and inquisitive as always. And fuck, she smelled great. He’d tried to ignore the fact that he’d immediately picked up her scent when he saw her in the station, but as the wind was blowing around them, there was no mistaking it now.
“I didn’t think you were part of this,” she said when he’d been too dumbstruck by being this close to her again to speak.
She cleared her throat. “When I got the call to come down here, I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Henley.”
He shook his head, guilt and anger battling for prominence inside of him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his throat raw with the words. “I’m sorry he did this to you and to Bell.”
Because just like he’d told Henley, even though the man wasn’t here, what Henley had done was a slap in the face to all Bell had done for both of them.
“You can’t apologize for him,” she said evenly. “You’re not responsible for this and Henley has to own up to his own shit.”
Those words were spoken with an irritated edge that reminded him of the night of the burglary when she’d gone toe-to-toe with Earl. If Nash hadn’t been so blindsided by the admission she’d made that night he would’ve been totally turned on by that boss ass performance she’d put on.
“You’re right,” he said and pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Otherwise, he was going to reach out and pull her to him. The urge to touch her, to have her body on his again was potent as hell. For all that he’d taken his vacation time to put some space between them so they could both think clearly about all that had happened, he still wanted her like an addict wanted their next fix. “But I think I owe you an apology too.”
One of her perfectly arched brows lifted. “For?”
She crossed her arms over her chest now and stared at him expectantly.
If she knew that this sexy ass composed and focused vibe she was putting out had been exactly what had drawn him to her so quickly before, she might not be so fast to do it again. He was positive he hadn’t been what Mica expected when she’d come to town to save her father’s business. Hell, she damn sure wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d wondered about who was going to inherit the dealership.
“I shouldn’t have walked away like I did the night of the burglary,” he said. In addition to all the other shit that had been shuffling around in his mind as he sat in his apartment these past few days, he’d known this one from the start. “I shouldn’t have been so angry with you for not telling me who you were when we first met. Especially since I was holding back a pretty big piece of information about myself as well.”
To be fair, he hadn’t really thought there was a need to tell her about his past until the night they’d slept together. It wasn’t any of her business before then, especially since he had no idea she was actually his boss at the time.
“I’ve thought a lot about that and I concluded that neither of us meant to be dishonest. We had no idea that things between us were going to um…go in the direction that they did, so we weren’t really prepared for the total honesty thing,” she said.
“True,” he replied. “Are we going for the total honesty thing now?”
She opened her mouth to say something and then clapped it shut quickly.
Acting solely on instinct and because the few feet of distance between them had become too much for him to stand a second longer, he stepped closer to her. “I mean, now that I know you’re the owner of Bellamy Motors and you know I have a criminal record and a stupid ass brother, are things between us still going in that direction?”
“Do you want things between us to continue going in that direction?” she asked. Her uncertainty was clear in the way she blinked slowly as she asked the question.
But Nash was totally sure. He’d been pissed when he stormed out of the police station and was about to make the same mistake he’d made the night of the burglary.
“I should’ve been clearer with you,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “I don’t really have any experience doing this because no woman has every meant enough to me to put forth the effort. But you, Ms. Michel Lynette Monroe, you were a very pleasant surprise. One I didn’t think I’d ever wanted.”
“But now you do?” she asked, her tongue snaking out to brush over those sinfully full lips. “Now, you want something with me…your um, boss?”
He chuckled then because that had also been a surprise. His mother always used to say, “If you wanna make God laugh, make plans.” Nash hadn’t known what that meant until right this moment.
“Well,” he said closing the last bit of space between them. “That was something else I planned to be honest with you about.”
“Oh?” The hint of surprise and was that disappointment, in her eyes shot straight through his chest and landed with a heated punch to his heart.
“I’m leaving Bellamy Motors,” he said. “Got a job offer from the Blackbond Group as an executive director in their design department.”
Now her eyes were alight with happiness, her arms fell from her chest and she lifted them like she was going to come in for hug, but then dropped them suddenly. “Oh, wow! That’s, ah, that’s great, Nash. I know that’s always what you wanted to do.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is. But there’s something else I want…no, I need to do.”
“What—”
The rest of that question died on her lips the moment he reached out to grasp the front of her neck. His other hand went around her waist and he pulled her to him and his mouth slammed over hers.
Just like each time their lips had touched there were sparks and heat licking against every inch of him. He couldn’t get enough of her, not of her taste, her scent, her body against his, her logical mind and those fuckin’ pretty ass eyes. She was everything he’d been afraid to wish for, everything he didn’t know he needed, until now.
Her arms had immediately gone around his waist, hugging him to her as she tilted her head and returned the feverish kiss lick for tantalizing lick. It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk on a chilly day. Nor did it matter that his brother was a thief and she had rightfully inherited the dealership he’d once thought would be his. Nothing mattered at this moment, except them.
“Well,” she breathed the word when they finally pulled apart.
He still held her. Still had one hand on her ass and the other on her neck in a way he found she enjoyed when they were in bed. And she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen as he stared down at her and asked, “Well, what?”
She gave him a slow smile. “Well, I guess we should get off this sidewalk if that kiss is leading where I think it is.”
He grinned and cupped her ass this time. “Where do you want this kiss to lead, joli fille?”
Her smile spread wider. “Back to your apartment, or my house,” she said.
“Oooohh, I can go to your house now? Because, if I recall, you ran away from me when I suggested taking you to your house before,” he said, humor filling his tone.
“Yeah, I did,” she said. “But now you know why that was. I also inherited my father’s house.”
And he knew that was a pretty nice house. It was the type of house Nash had never imagined living in again, especially not with a family of his own. But staring down at this woman, holding her in his arms and thinking about the fabulous career he was about to embark on had him daring to dream for once.
“I know that house,” he said. “And I’d be happy to take you there and see where these kisses will lead.”
“You would?” she asked.
He leaned in to suck her bottom lip into his mouth before he quickly released it and said, “Uh huh.”
“Then let’s go,” she replied. “My car’s right up the street. I can meet you there.”
“Nah,” Nash said, dragging his tongue over that plump bottom lip again. “I want you with me, Mica.”
She pulled back a little to stare at him in question. “I am coming with you.”
Nash shook his head and moved to take her hand. “No. I want you to come ride with me, baby.”
Her grin spread wider now and she nodded happily. “Yes. I’ll ride with you.”