Stay with Me (Strickland Sisters Book 1)

by Alexandria House

  “Wow, that’s incredible!”

  “It really is. Well, I’ve gotta go or I’ll be late for my next class,” Nicky announced, hopping to her feet. “Don’t get up.” She kissed my cheek and waved to Ryan as she breezed past him. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes, same here,” he said to her, but his eyes were still on me.

  I dropped my gaze after she closed the door behind her, unsure of what to do or say now that I was alone with him. When I looked up to see him still staring at me, I felt a familiar sense of anxiety.

  Finally, he said, “I saw you at Coda the other night. You’re a jazz lover?”

  My mouth dropped open only a little, but I’m sure the surprise was written all over the rest of my face. “You were there? I didn’t see you.”

  “Yes, I was there. Nice place, right?”

  I nodded. It was his eyes that were burning a hole in my back that night. I was sure of that, because they were burning a hole in my front at that very moment. His gaze was scorching me. The nice, personable, aw-shucks smile was gone. Mr. Boyé was drinking me in with his eyes like a predator would its prey, and the shift in the atmosphere made the skin over my chest tighten. I was attracted to him, and it appeared he was attracted to me, too, but he was my tenant. He was business, and he had to be a dog. He just had to be.

  “Uh…” I began, fervently searching my mind for something to say, an out.

  He abruptly stood, and that innocent smile of his returned. “I should go. Uh…I-um, I’ll see you around.”

  I followed him the few steps to my front door, and as I watched him leave, said, “Yeah.”

  9

  The hell is wrong with me? Sitting up there in that woman’s house staring at her like I had no control over my own eyes. It wasn’t like she was half-naked or something. She was sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt, her head covered with a black scarf. No make-up, just her pretty face wearing an interested look as I told her about my job, but still, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her no matter how hard I tried. It was like some kind of magnetic force or something. Hell, I couldn’t tell you what her sister looked like even if someone had a gun pointed at me demanding that I describe her. I barely glanced at her, because just like in that club, Ms. Strickland commanded and held my attention.

  What the fuck?

  Yeah, I was attracted to her, but she was fine, so it was a given that I’d be attracted to her. But this, this thing that was going on in my head when I was around her? It was more than attraction. Shit, it was bordering on obsession, because there I was, sitting in my temporary office with the door closed, paperwork covering my desk, my phone buzzing in my pocket, with my mind focused on her, and only her.

  It had to be the fact that I’d deemed her off limits. The whole forbidden fruit thing must’ve been driving me crazy because of her proximity to me. It was one thing to dismiss her. It was another thing to dismiss her and still have to see her nearly every day—sitting on the front porch drinking her coffee, or walking past her living room window in her short pajamas with the blinds open, or walking to her car, or shit, me lying in my bed at night fully aware that she was just feet away from me in her bed.

  Damn-it! I was losing my entire mind and I didn’t even really know this woman!

  I rubbed my forehead and stared at the paperwork, then shook my head and pulled my phone from my pocket, relieved to see my friend, KC’s, name on the screen. If I couldn’t focus on the paperwork, I definitely wasn’t going to be able to focus on a business-related phone call.

  “Hey…wassup, KC?” I mumbled into the phone after accepting the call.

  “Damn, wassup with you? Why you sounding like you lost your last dollar or something?”

  “Man, just got a lot on my mind…what’s up with you? How’s Sarita and the baby?”

  “They’re good. I’ll tell her you asked about her. Hey, the project going bad or something? I mean, what’s going on?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know…”

  “Aw, hell naw! It’s a woman, isn’t it? The player done got played?”

  “Be for real, man. You know better than that.”

  “But it’s a woman that’s got your head all messed up, isn’t it?”

  “Naw…”

  “Bullshit! Come on, man. We been boys for how long now? And you think you can fool me? You’re messed up over some chick, and because you’ve never been messed up over one before, your ass is all perplexed and shit. Hell, you sound confused.”

  I glanced at the closed office door and rested my elbows on my desk. “Okay, it’s a woman, but it’s not what you think. I mean, I’m not messing with her or anything.”

  “But you want to?”

  “Yeah…”

  “But you’re not?”

  “Right…”

  “Why? She married?”

  “No.”

  “A lesbian?”

  “Naw, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, what then?”

  “She’s my landlord.”

  “Oh, and you think once you mess over her, she’ll kick you out of your place or something?”

  “Yeah, or let me stay there and make my life a living hell. It’s a duplex apartment, and she lives in the other apartment attached to mine.”

  KC let out a low whistle. “I see your point. She fine, though?”

  “Man, let me tell you!”

  “I don’t know. Ry. You gonna be able to hold out? I mean, I ain’t never known you to pass up on a fine woman.”

  “I don’t even know. It’s hard, and she’s got this lame-ass boyfriend. He probably ain’t even hitting that right. The things I could do to her…”

  “Same old Ryan. What if she doesn’t want you to do anything to her?”

  “Are you serious?”

  He laughed into the phone. “Man, you and that ego. That landlord just might be the one to shut your conceited ass down.”

  I laughed. “Married life has messed your brain up. No woman has ever shut me down, and no woman ever will.”

  “Okay, okay. Look, man, go ahead and get with her, just don’t mess up and you should be fine.”

  “Don’t mess up? What am I supposed to do? Have an actual relationship with her? I’m only here for five more months, and you know I don’t do relationships. The thought of that shit alone suffocates me.”

  “I don’t know. If she’s got you this messed up in the head, maybe she’s the one.”

  “Oh, hell no! Now you’re trying to recruit me into that little bondage club you’re in just because you married Sarita and y’all got a kid now. Man, back up with that. I’ma be single until I die!”

  “All right, man. Whatever. I gotta get on back in the office. My lunch break is over. Holler at you later.”

  “Yeah.”

  *****

  She went on another date that Friday night. I know that, because she knocked on my door around 8:00 PM wearing a turquoise dress and heels, her thick hair pulled back in a bun. She was smiling, delivering some of my mail that ended up in her box to me. I smiled back, took the mail, and watched the sway of her ass as she walked away, the intoxicating floral scent of her perfume still occupying the air outside my door.

  I was in a bad mood from that moment on, kept wondering if she was out with that lame-ass dude again. Then I started wondering why I was so mad about how she spent her time. After all, she wasn’t my woman.

  Maybe she should be.

  I shook my head, left my couch, and headed into my kitchen. I must’ve needed a damn drink if crazy stuff like that was just popping in my head.

  I was out of the only liquor I had in my place, a bottle of bourbon.

  Shit.

  I slumped back onto the sofa and stared at the TV. I wasn’t in the mood to go to a liquor store. What I was in the mood for was sex, but I’d broken things off with Alexis, and by broke them off, I mean I stopped answering her calls. But right at that moment, I wanted to call her and set something up. Shoot, I was almost willing to gi
ve her my address if it meant I could get my mind off of Angela Strickland and those legs of hers. And her ass? It was the kind of ass that made white girls get silicone injections—firm, round…

  Or maybe I could call Lori or Lorna or whatever her name was. We met at a coffee shop a couple of days after I last saw Alexis and hooked up that same night, but I lost interest in her after that and had been ignoring her calls, too. Then there was this chick I met on my first flight to Tennessee and screwed in her car in long-term parking, but I couldn’t remember her name and didn’t bother to get her number.

  I sat up straight, blew out a frustrated breath, and let my eyes shift to the wall that our living rooms shared. If she had been home instead of out with whoever, I might have gone over there and made something happen. But as it stood, she was gone, and there I sat with her on my mind. And honestly, all that stuff about hooking up with Alexis again, or anyone else, was bullshit. I didn’t want any other woman…except for Ms. Strickland.

  And I wanted her bad.

  10

  The concert was excellent, and so was Harrison’s company. I was glad I’d taken Nicky shopping with me that morning, because the turquoise dress was her idea, and with the way it fit me, I turned plenty of heads and had Harrison’s rapt attention throughout the night. One almost would’ve thought I was the main attraction rather than the skilled R&B crooner. The evening was so nice, full of good music and good vibes, that I virtually floated from my car to my front door and entered my living room with a little twirl. Nicky’s backwards ass was right. This was fun. This was living. Going out and being appreciated by a man just for being myself. Expecting nothing from him and having no expectations attached to my company. Maybe I would try dating another guy. From what I could tell, this dating game wasn’t half bad after all.

  I was in my bedroom, dress pulled down from my upper body and bunched up around my waist as I sat on my bed and kicked my heels off. I smiled at my reflection in the dresser mirror, at the way the black-laced edge of my push-up bra framed my breasts, tilted my head to the side and studied my neck, the flawless brown skin of my chest and face.

  I was beautiful. Maybe not the most beautiful woman in the world, but I was beautiful. Putting so much stock in how my exes treated me had erased that truth from my mind. I made a vow to myself at that moment to never forget that, to never deny my own beauty again, and to never ever attach my self-worth to how someone else treated me.

  I slipped all the way out of my clothes and hopped in the shower, relishing in the hot water pouring over me as I lathered my skin with my favorite plumeria-scented body wash. About thirty minutes later, I’d pulled on my favorite old night shirt and climbed into bed, was on my way to La La Land when the sound of thumping bass jolted me out of my semi-slumber. More than a little disoriented, I rolled over, trying to figure out what was going on, what I was hearing, and why I was hearing it. Then it occurred to me.

  Ryan Boyé.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, grabbed my cell phone from the bedside table, and checked the time—1:00 AM. Really? Was this negro really blasting music at this time of night or morning or whatever?

  Shit.

  And things were going so well.

  I sat up and tried to mentally will this fool to turn his music down, because I really did not feel like having to walk over there and beat on his door to get him to do something his grown ass should’ve had sense enough to do anyway.

  I waited for five whole minutes. I waited as the music thumped and the picture frame on my dresser vibrated, growing angrier by the second. I could’ve called him, but bump that. Instead, I stood up, released a frustrated groan, and threw a robe on over my night shirt. Barefoot and pissed the hell off, I left my place and stalked to his door, beating on it like I was the chief of police.

  No answer.

  Oh, hell no!

  I kicked the door, and yelled, “Hey!”

  The music stopped, and less than a minute later, the front door eased open to reveal a heavy-lidded Ryan Boyé, shirtless in a pair of red briefs, and from the looks of things, I had interrupted something or had awakened him from a very steamy dream, because ole boy was standing at attention. All of the moisture in my mouth traveled to my core. I shifted my weight on my feet and tore my eyes away from his groin, letting them amble over his muscular stomach and chest and finally settle on his eyes.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Uh-um-uh…your-the music…”

  His eyes flickered with recognition. “Oh, man. Did it wake you? I was listening to it and fell asleep and must’ve rolled over on the stereo remote.”

  “Oh…didn’t it wake you? It was loud for a few minutes there.”

  He reached up and rested his hand on the back of his head. “Yeah, I was kinda out of it. Took me a minute or so to find the remote. I didn’t realize it was under me.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, um…just try to keep it down. The neighbors don’t mind calling the police.”

  “Yeah, yeah…sorry, again.”

  “No problem.”

  *****

  “…so now he says I can stay until I finish this degree. I’m so relieved.”

  Nicky’s words were clear to me, but I just couldn’t focus on them. It’d been three days since the whole loud-music-Ryan-in-his-underwear thing, and my mind was still twisted in knots. My body still reacted to the mere thought of seeing him like that—tall, beautiful, aroused. Aroused for who? Was there someone in there reaping the benefits of what The Maker had so generously gifted him with that night? It really didn’t matter if there was. All that mattered was the singular thought that had plagued my mind since that night.

  I wish it was me.

  I watched Nicky’s mouth move, and I nodded my head when I saw her raise her eyebrows. I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but my reaction must’ve been appropriate or at least to her satisfaction, because she gave me a smile in return.

  I had finally called my mother, took her request for her and Daddy’s anniversary menu, and Nicky was in my kitchen helping me prepare baked ham, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole and yeast rolls—all my father’s favorites, because that was just what my mom did. She catered to my father, waited on him hand and foot, never argued or disagreed with him, and in return, he took very good care of her. He owned two huge car lots here in town, with other lots all over Tennessee. Daddy was rich and generous. Me and Renee and Nicky and our mother had never wanted for anything…except his time and attention.

  And that was why I was impossibly attracted to the wrong types of men, and Renee was married to the wrong man, and Nicky was a ho’. We had all tried, and were still trying, to fill the void of having a father who basically shared an address with us only on his driver’s license. The man was always gone. Always. And when he was home, we all fell over each other vying for his attention. Looking back on my childhood and upbringing, it was actually full of sadness punctuated by instances of happiness, but those instances never involved Daddy. He missed them, and that hurt.

  It hurt, because it wasn’t like he was a doctor out saving lives or a soldier deployed overseas. The man sold cars. Car lots close at a certain time of day. His absence was intentional. We all knew it, though we never said it. And we also knew he had other women, likely other families. And that hurt, too. But Mama accepted it, lived life on his terms, and out of respect for her, so did me and Renee and Nicky.

  “Angie!” Nicky shouted, her hands on her tiny, barely-there hips. She gave me an impatient look, as if she’d been trying to get my attention for a while. She probably had, because my mind and focus had been everywhere but there in my kitchen with her.

  “Huh?” I asked, shifting my eyes from her to the ham I’d been preparing to put in the oven.

  “I said, do you think the rolls are done?”

  I blinked once, twice, then finally said, “Let me see.”

  I checked the rolls, finding them a nice golden brown, and slid them out of the oven. When I turned arou
nd, Nicky was staring at me.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Tired, I guess. Been making a lot of videos, doing a lot of editing. I think I wore myself out.” It wasn’t a lie. I had been working hard. But I’d also found it hard to sleep, because my mind kept filling with thoughts of Ryan Boyé and his penis.

  “Everything else is ready for the oven, right? I’ll watch the food. Go lie down,” she suggested.

  I didn’t protest.

  I managed to fall asleep pretty quickly, and four hours later, woke to my house smelling like a holiday gathering. My sister was gone, having put all the food in the refrigerator. She’d also left a note and my mail on the coffee table in the living room.

  I sat down and sifted through the mail, most of which was Ryan’s. I sighed. The mailman was really going to have to get his act together, because the last thing I needed was to have to face that man again.

  I sat there for ten minutes before deciding to just put his mail in his mailbox. Peeking out the window, I found his driveway empty and smiled. Good, he wasn’t home, so now was the best time. I slipped on a pair of thong sandals and eased out my front door, damn near threw his mail in his mailbox and almost fell off the porch when his door swung open.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  I stood there like a deer in headlights as he stepped out of his apartment. At least he had on clothes this time, and he wasn’t aroused as far as I could tell, but he was still…him. He was still beautiful, and I still wanted him.

  “Hey,” he softly said.

  “Uh…your mail,” was all I managed to say.

  He frowned. “What about my mail?”

  “Some of it was in my box. I put it in yours.”