9. Myheir
a week later…
I leaned back into the seats of the truck.
It seemed like being in the backseat of a truck was becoming my second home.
I was juggling my responsibilities to my shops and the bank.
It seemed like everyone knew I was busy as hell at the other and wanted to make sure my workload was equal on both sides.
I’d been able to talk to Khaleya a few times, just so our stories were straight. At least that was the excuse I used. I just liked to talk to her, if I was being real. Whenever we talked, I couldn’t help but laugh or smile. She didn’t have a single filter in place.
The thought of her made me smile. Just as the thought passed through my mind, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached in and pulled it out to Khaleya sticking her tongue out at me. It was a picture I’d taken on one of our FaceTime calls this week, and I quickly made it her contact photo.
I knew if she knew I hadn’t accidentally pushed the picture button and what I was using it for, that she would be talking shit. To be honest, I was looking forward to hearing her mouth about it. Doll was a natural shit talker.
I quickly answered before the FaceTime call went to voicemail.
“What’s up, Doll?” I asked.
She was close in the camera. Her lips were lined with brown and a gloss over top. I could tell she’d even done something different with her curly hair. She had some sort of twist pattern in the front and two braids hanging down by her temple, with a few wooden beads adorning them.
I widened my legs a bit to give my dick room.
She looked beautiful as fuck. I could tell she’d even done her makeup.
She stood up and stepped away from the camera until I could see her full body.
She had on a satin brown skirt that fell down above her ankles a bit, and a turquoise and brown patterned long-sleeve sheer shirt.
It looked like she put on a solid brown or cream T-shirt beneath it.
I ran my tongue over my full bottom lip as I made sure I didn’t miss a single detail.
“What do you think? You think your mom is going to like it?” she asked.
I held my hand up to where she could see it and did a spinning gesture. She smiled and gripped her hips, then did a 360. I bit my lower lip as her full round ass made its presence known. It was almost as if she’d gone out and gotten this skirt made just for her.
“Big, answer me. You’re making me nervous,” she groaned.
“What did I tell you about that Big shit? I watched that episode of Sex and the City, and that old-ass man don’t look or act nothing like me.”
She burst into laughter, bent over, gripping her knees, like I’d said the funniest shit in the world.
“I never told you you looked like that, man. You came up with that on your own, and the day you stop calling me Doll will be the day I stop calling you Big.”
I smirked, then kissed my teeth.
“You don’t really want me to stop calling you Doll. So I don’t know why you said that. If I’d called you Khaleya when I picked up this phone, you would have been staring upside my head.”
She rolled her eyes and gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“Whatever you say, Big. Now tell me, is this okay? Because in a minute I’m not going to give a damn, and your mama is going to accept me as is.”
I shrugged. “You’re the finest damn thing I’ve ever seen. But you already knew that. Be yourself. It’s not going to matter if you came in draped in the finest labels. If she doesn’t vibe with you, then she doesn’t. But I know you’re going to do just fine.”
She released a visible sigh and walked out of the frame to grab something.
“If you say so. Well, I guess I’m ready. Did you give your parents my dietary restrictions?” she asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck and squinted. I couldn’t remember a single thing about any dietary restrictions. So I wasn’t sure what the hell she was talking about, but I didn’t want to say that aloud. It would only make her feel like I wasn’t listening, when really I’d just been busy as hell.
Khaleya walked back into the frame, holding a bottle of champagne closer to the camera.
“Do your parents drink this kind of champagne? I figured, who doesn’t drink mimosas? Not to mention, I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“Doll, I don’t know what kind of champagne those folks are drinking, and what dietary restrictions are you talking about? You didn’t give me any. What are you allergic to? I can text the chef now and make sure everything is cool.”
Her brow lifted at my question.
“What do you mean you can text the chef? You have the chef’s number at your parents’ place. I know you’re not around here treating your parents’ kitchen like a fast-food restaurant.”
I burst into laughter, unable to hold back. I swear she just said anything that came to mind.
“Doll, answer the question about these dietary needs that you’ve never mentioned to me before,” I replied.
She smirked. “I don’t have any. I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. It keeps you young and fresh.”
“Yeah, right. Who taught you that?” I asked.
“Every woman knows this. So I just let you in on some high-profile shit. Don’t go sharing it with all your little friends either.”
“Haha, hilarious,” I replied sarcastically.
“I’m just saying. I’m trusting you, and I can’t have you dragging my name through the mud saying I told you.”
“Trust me, it’s our little secret. I’m going to assume you’re ready to go.”
She backed up and posed while holding the bottle of champagne. Then she pointed at the camera.
“Big, you have assumed right,” she said, elevating her voice dramatically.
I chuckled and shook my head.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay! I’m going to go use the bathroom. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to look around the house or anything.”
“Doll.”
“Bye, Big. Damn,” she replied.
I chuckled and ended the call. I swear, man, this wedding was a few months away. I was going to enjoy every second of preparing with her.
Ten minutes later, my truck pulled up to her apartment parking lot. My driver started to hop out and open my door, but I stopped him.
“I got it.”
He nodded and closed his door, while I let myself out of the back and then made a beeline for the stairs.
I stopped at the bottom, already frowning. “Why didn’t you wait for me to come get you?”
Khaleya continued locking the door behind her, then glanced over her shoulder. “You are getting me, Big. I’m right here.”
I tilted my head and frowned up at her as she stood at the top of the steps. “That’s not the point. You know men are supposed to come to your door, right?” I asked.
She gave me her signature amused smile while waving me off. The gesture caused the warm breeze between us to carry her scent straight to me.
Pear hit me first, soft and fresh, followed by something warmer—vanilla, amber, and a smooth woodsy scent that seemed to settle in the back of my throat. It wasn’t loud or overpowering. It clung to her, rich and inviting, like it belonged beneath her skin instead of sitting on top of it.
Every thought I had about getting in her ass disappeared.
Khaleya came down the steps, her brows lifting when I continued to stare. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Blackwell?” she asked smartly.
I wanted to tell her ass nah, but I could surely help her no longer be able to walk in a straight line.
But I kept that shit to myself. Instead, I waited until she reached me, then leaned in closer before I could talk myself out of it.
The scent deepened with the heat of her skin, softer now, but somehow more distracting.
“That’s yours, isn’t it?”
Her lips curved. “It is. You like?”
I stepped back a bit and placed my hand on the small of her back to lead her to the truck.
“I do. What’s it called?”
She peered over her shoulder as I opened the door.
“First Class. It’s one of the first oils and perfumes I made in my Stamped collection.”
First Class. I liked the sound of that.
I stood still for a moment as she slipped inside, needing a second to recover from the fact that one scent had made me forget the entire speech I’d prepared. I shook it off, then slid in beside her.
“Don’t think because you smell like something I could eat that we’re done talking about your date etiquette, Doll. Next time, leave coming to the door for me.”
“You got it, Big,” she said, then saluted me like I was her superior in the service.
“Doll, put your seatbelt on.”
She lifted her brow and held the seatbelt away from her body. I chuckled, already knowing what she wanted without her saying a word.
“Doll, can you please put on your seatbelt?” I asked.
Her eyes expanded dramatically. “That’s all you had to say, Big. See how sugar brings rewards.”
I shook my head and chuckled.
For the rest of the ride, she sang every damn song that came on the radio. It didn’t matter if it was Beyoncé or damn Miley Cyrus. Her ass was singing every word, well, at least some words. The majority of them she was remixing like they were naturally part of the song.
Her singing didn’t stop until we came up on my parents’ black iron gates.
I figured she would. Most people usually did.
Their home was imposing and showed just how big they were in the wealthy pond.
I think she knew I had money, but looking at their house, she was realizing just maybe it was more than she’d initially thought.
I didn’t interrupt her thoughts until I saw her adjust her shirt. I wasn’t going for any of that. I needed confident Khaleya to step out of this car. My parents were just people with money, and that didn’t change a damn thing.
I reached out and placed my hand over hers, stopping all further movement.
She glanced up at me with worried eyes. I’d never seen her let her guard down.
Usually, she was ready with a quick comeback or a smart remark.
But right now, she’d run out of strength to hold her shield.
But she had nothing to worry about. I’d hold it up until she was ready to take over again.