by Nia Arthurs
“No idea.”
“This.” I scrunch my hair. “This isn’t real.”
“No?”
“Have you ever seen a black woman with honey-blonde hair?”
“I’m sure they exist somewhere.” He shrugs.
I tap my fingers on his elbow. “I paid a ton for this wig. I had to color it myself because the weave I really wanted cost too much. After, I put my natural hair in cornrows—do you know what cornrows are?”
“I don’t live under a rock, Clark.” He gives me an are you for real look. “Of course I know what they are.”
“Okay.” I nod in approval. “After the cornrows, someone sews the frontal onto my head.”
“Hm.” He slows at a red light and stares at my hair like he’s studying a new scientific discovery.
I bend my head so he can get a full look at the tracks. “What you’re seeing here is just the surface.” Rising slightly, I meet his eyes. “But because you’re not in my culture, you wouldn’t understand why I can’t swim or why I need a full day to go to the hair salon. There’s a disconnect there because we come from two different worlds.”
“Sure,” he agrees. “But it’s not a deal breaker. Now that I know about your hair, I won’t take you out to swim when I plan dates. And for Christmas, I’ll get you a weave you don’t have to dye yourself. When I drop you off at the hair salon in the morning, I’ll make sure to bring you lunch and come back for you at midnight.”
I shake my head. “You’re saying that like you actually plan to do it.”
“You think I won’t?” he challenges.
“Mave…”
“I’m going to do that and more.”
“We agreed on just being friends.”
“No, you agreed to that. I said I’d try.”
“Try harder.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“Friends don’t look at me the way you do,” I point out.
“And how do I look at you?”
The same way I look at you. I clear my throat. “Are you just biding your time until I fall for your moves?”
“You’re the one who made me fall first, Clark.”
My heart jumps to my throat. “You can’t… you can’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He shakes his head. “I’m going at your pace, but I can’t hide how I feel about you and I’m not going to freaking try anymore.”
“You just think of me as a challenge, that’s all,” I insist, terrified by his honesty.
I’ve never met a man as upfront as Mave. I have no shield for it.
Even if I did, he’d just barrel through my resistance anyway. This man seems to laugh at stop signs. He already knows every light will turn green with just one look.
Mave takes a left turn, his eyes narrowed to slits. “The hell? That’s not true.”
“If I’d let you push me into the backseat of your car the night we kissed. If you’d gotten between my legs and we’d spent the night together, would we be having this conversation right now?” I fold my arms over my chest and pray that my voice doesn’t shake when I add, “No. You’d have gotten me out of your system. You would have moved on to someone else because the thrill of the chase would be over.”
He glares at me. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t know what to think of you!” I yell.
On the one hand, Mave’s this cocky jerk who does and says what he wants, when he wants.
On the other, he’s this really sweet guy who’d do everything he can to help someone in need. What he did for Rosa snapped my entire opinion of him around. It made me see him in a different light.
“I can’t figure you out,” I grumble.
“Then stop. Quit trying to make sense of me and let me show you who I am.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re…” I grasp at the air. “You’re you. And I’m me.”
“Clark, that makes no freaking sense.”
“Why are you so interested in me?” I challenge. “Is it not because I’m the only woman at the bakery who hasn’t thrown herself at your feet?”
“Maybe that’s how it started, yeah.”
“I knew it.” My nostrils flare with emotions. “If all you want is to sleep with me, Mave, then—”
“If that was all I wanted, do you think I’d still be here?” His voice rises with frustration. “I’d never work this hard when I could just call someone up and scratch that itch.”
I scowl at him. The thought of Mave having a ton of women on speed dial, ready to rush over and satisfy his fantasies, bothers me more than I’ll admit.
I’d already guessed that he had a past. It would have been naïve of me to not expect that. But, for the first time, the heat of jealousy licks at my skin and I have to take steady breaths to calm myself.
“I haven’t called anyone, Clark,” he clarifies, studying my expression. “And I don’t plan to either.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” His lips twitch. “You look like you want to tear my hair out.”
“I just didn’t realize the extent of your history.”
He gives me an appreciative look. “Don’t worry. The only woman I’ve been imagining naked lately is you.”
I push him back. “I will punch you.”
He chuckles and continues to drive.
I twiddle my thumbs. “So, exactly how many women are on that list?”
He laughs. “Clark.”
“Forget it,” I grumble, turning away from him and staring out the window.
“Look,” he takes my hand and holds it on top of the stick shift, “if you knew how crazy I am about you, you wouldn’t be pouting over there.”
“I am not pouting.”
Mave brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Enough with the back and forth. I don’t like this game and I’m tired of tiptoeing around what’s happening between us. Let me spoil you, Clark.”
I suck in a deep breath. “You’re my boss.”
Mave rubs his thumb over my knuckles in an intoxicating caress. “I’m not going to put you in a tight spot at work. And I’m not going to ask you to return my feelings. This is my burden and my choice.” He sighs. “Just don’t ask me to hold back anymore. I can’t be friends with you, and I think you knew that the moment I suggested it.”
“You don’t hear the word ‘no’ often, do you?” I arch an eyebrow.
He stops at a red light. Leans over. Kisses me gently. “No.”
I rest my palm on his chest.
Feel his heart thunder against my fingertips.
Enjoy the stroke of his mouth on mine.
As his touch deepens, I push into the hunger of it.
My body flashes with heat.
This man is an expert at kissing.
And getting his way.
I can’t forget that.
I can’t let him sweep me off my feet.
No matter how much I long to.
Mave pulls away and keeps driving as if he didn’t just sip on my lips like a bee on nectar.
I rub my thumb over my mouth and stay silent.
If I open my mouth—
If I let any of the feelings coursing through my veins hit the air—
Mave will know he has me.
And then even this paper-thin armor will be snatched away by his big, overwhelming charm.
No matter what he says, I’m not convinced that I’m ‘the one’ who’ll get this handsome stud to settle down.
And I don’t want to be like my mom, who fell in love with a man only to suffer for ten years before he decided he was done with his playboy lifestyle.
I don’t have the time or the emotional energy to make those kinds of mistakes.
Mave turns the radio on.
We listen to the music until I’m in front of Maxine’s apartment.
I clear my throat. Face him with a frown. “Why did you tak
e me home? Aren’t we supposed to be at the office?”
“This is my first act of spoiling you.” He nods to the apartment. “Go inside.”
“Why?”
“This is your only day off. I’m not going to stuff you in a hot office, hauling boxes around when you should be resting.”
“You’re not going to start giving me special treatment at work, are you?” I frown.
“I can do what I want, remember?”
“Mave.”
“Go.” He leans back. Scrubs a thumb over his chin. “Before I pull you to the backseat.”
I laugh. “You’re seriously asking for a beating.”
His grin widens.
“So you’re going to clean the office by yourself?”
“Nah. I’ll let Austin wade through the mess since he wants to work at the bakery so badly.”
“I see. This isn’t about me. This is about you getting back at Austin.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“You’re off to a great start, Mave. I feel so cherished.” I climb out of the car. When Mave’s door slams shut too, I glance up. “What are you doing?”
He slides his sunshades on, turning the simple gesture into a slow-mo thirst trap. I swear he carries himself like he’s photoshoot ready 24/7. All this man needs are a couple fans blowing in his hair and a photographer.
“I’m walking you to your door.” He smirks, one hand draped on top of the roof of the truck. “I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t cherish you.”
I smirk.
“Come on.” Mave takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.
Our shoes thud against each step.
Our voices bounce on the walls.
“Is the bakery doing well enough that we can afford an accountant?” I ask.
“Let’s just say… HQ has a vested interest in our accounts. Some things aren’t adding up.”
My fingers tighten on his. “Was Mrs. Lindsay embezzling the funds?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’ll know more when Austin combs through the numbers.”
I nod solemnly.
My sister’s apartment appears in front of us.
“This is it,” I mumble, grinning when I hear laughter. Christmas music filters through the door. Girlish squeals. The skid of shoes and dancing.
“It sounds like your nieces are having a party.”
“They must be.”
“Put that ornament there, Moe. Yeah, that looks great.” Maxine’s voice rings out. “What do you think?”
“I think they’re putting up a Christmas tree,” Mave says.
“Yeah.” I shake my head in confusion. “Without me.”
Deep, masculine laughter fills the air. “My daughters know how to decorate a tree.”
Every inch of my body goes cold.
I recognize that voice.
It’s Levonte.
20
Mave
“He’s still here?” Clark hisses, her eyes aflame like Bruce Banner about to turn into the Hulk.
In a flash, she’s in front of the door.
A moment later, she shoves her key in the lock.
Turns. Pushes.
The door swings open and I brace myself for a gruesome, horror-movie scenario.
We barrel into the room.
But there’s no fire.
No deranged clown holding an ax over a little girl’s head.
No guy in a ski mask.
In fact, the scene before me is ripped straight out of a cheesy Christmas movie. Boxes of ornaments sprawled on the floor. Plastic Christmas tree in the corner. Twinkling Christmas lights. Smiles on every face.
A woman with big, red curls laughs softly. Her skin is a stunning brown that’s so dark it’s almost onyx. Her bright eyes and slim nose remind me of Clark.
This must be Maxine, Clark’s sister.
The woman hoists a little girl in her arms. With a big grin, the child sets a delicate glass ornament on the spindles of the Christmas tree.
“What’s going on here?” Clark snaps.
Every head swings her way.
So does mine.
It’s pretty clear what’s going on. They’re setting up a Christmas tree two weeks before the holiday.
That’s a little late.
By Clark’s standards at least.
Given how decked out our bakery was, I thought her place would have been bursting with Christmas lights, Santa hats, and garlands. I’d thought I’d be skidding in holly and mistletoe.
Instead, it looks pretty bare except for the Christmas tree and four stockings on the mantle.
Maxine’s face twists in shock for a minute, but she hides it by throwing on a smile so forced it’ll shatter with a sneeze.
“Clark, you’re home.”
Another sharp observation.
“Yes, I am.” Clark tilts her head to the side. The fight hasn’t left her voice.
Maxine’s eyes dart left. “We-we didn’t expect you. You said your meeting would take all day.”
“Well, it didn’t.”
The sisters glare at each other.
The rest of us try not to move or breathe.
Even the kids sense the tension and look between their mother and aunt like they’re expecting either one to explode.
Awkward silence would have fallen on the room if not for the cheerful Christmas music pouring from the speakers. The singer’s crooning about warmth and family seem in direct contrast to the showdown before me.
“Hey, Clark.” The man sitting in the sofa is unravelling a tangled web of Christmas lights. A bright smile flashes against his brown skin. The way his eyes glimmer at Clark rubs me the wrong way.
It’s clear he knows Clark doesn’t appreciate his presence.
It’s equally clear that he’s reveling in her discomfort.
My jaw tightens as I clench my teeth.
Now that pisses me off.
Since I’ve decided that Clark is mine, her physical, emotional and mental wellbeing is my freaking priority. So this guy getting off on upsetting my woman needs an immediate head check.
Hold it in, Mave. This is a family matter.
I promised Clark I wouldn’t barge into her life.
I promised her I wouldn’t overstep.
Even though it kills me, I let the guy gloat and say nothing.
Clark’s fingers dig into her purse.
I take note of the stance.
Move a little closer to her just in case she launches.
From experience, whenever Clark starts digging her hands into something, it means she’s about reached her limit. When I’m teasing her and I see her start to dig into the tray or the counter, that’s usually the time when I’d take my leave.
“Glad you could finally join us,” the guy adds, his smirk deepening.
I can see the smoke boiling out of Clark’s ears. Pretty sure if she could toss something at his head, she would.
His gaze slides over me next. “I see you brought a friend.”
“Levonte, can you refrain from speaking for a second?” Clark hisses. “I’m talking to Maxine.”
I cross my arms over my chest, silently enforcing her request.
Levonte’s smile gets a little dimmer.
Smart man.
Maxine clears her throat. “Girls, come show auntie what you’ve done so far.”
The request seems to lift the children’s spirits.
“Auntie! Auntie! Come see our Christmas tree.” The smaller one hurries our way. She’s wearing a bright pink tutu over pink leggings. Her blouse has ‘Christmas Angel’ on the front.
She’s definitely as cute as an angel, I’ll give her that.
The taller girl approaches me cautiously. “Who are you?”
“Hey.” I crouch to her level and lift a hand in a friendly wave. “I’m Mave, your Auntie’s friend. You must be Moesha.”
“How do you know my name?” Moesha whispers.
“Your aunt talks about you and your sister all the
time. She’s always sneaking cookies away when she thinks no one is looking.”
“Hey,” Clark breaks eye contact with Maxine to defend herself, “I pay for those.”
Moesha giggles.
“You’re handsome,” the smaller one says, shyly clinging to Clark’s leg. “Like a prince.”
“I’m not a prince.” I rub my chin. “But I’m pretty sure you’re a princess.”
She shrieks with laughter. “I’m not a princess.”
“You’re not?” I tilt my head as if the news shocks me. “Because your auntie is a queen and I’m pretty sure that makes you a princess.”
Maxine hides her smile behind a hand.
Clark shakes her head, but her lips twitch too.
The ice seems to break.
For a moment, all is well.
Until the man rises from the sofa and saunters toward me. He stretches out a dark hand, his eyes glued to my face. “I’m Levonte, Clark’s brother-in-law.”
“No, he’s not.” Clark’s glare returns. “You have to be married first to claim that title, Levonte.”
“Clark, stop it,” Maxine snaps.
“Why is everybody angry?” Tanisha whispers, clinging even harder to Clark’s leg.
Clark holds the kid close, her eyes returning to her sister.
Maxine purses her lips. With a sigh, she addresses the little girls. “Moesha and Tanisha, go to your room.” Her hands dig into her pocket and she pulls out a phone. “Watch a movie while the adults talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Clark’s nieces leave.
The younger one seems completely oblivious to the tension. In a sweet voice, she chats about the different movies she’d like to watch, bemoaning the fact that she can’t decide on one.
But the older daughter gives her mom and Clark a pointed stare. It’s clear she’d like to say something, but she keeps it to herself.
My heart goes out to Moe.
She reminds me of myself at that age.
The world was such a cold place after my parents died. I just wanted some normalcy. Gran and Grampa tried the best they could, but they were shattered after the double funerals.
Gran’s devotion to the company multiplied. The only time she could breathe was when she was working. The constant business trips and meetings were a strain on their marriage.
My grandparents fought often. Rather than grieve together, they seemed to grow farther and farther apart.
