Platinum Love: A BWWM Romance (Blazin' Love Book 1)

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  “That’s not it Hunt. You’re just more…” Charlee is grabbing in the air for the right, non-offensive word.

  “Creative,” Harper offers.

  “That’s it. Creative.”

  “Creative my ass. My father wants a business plan, and I’m going to give him a business plan. And y’all heifers are going to shove that creative nonsense up y’alls—”

  “Hunt, you really need to stop drinking.” I want to punch Harper in her motherly face.

  “I’m out of here.” I stand up, stomping off towards the door. Is this how they see me? I’m creative but not smart. I’m irresponsible with money. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I hate being underestimated. But what I hate more is the whisper in my head. What if they’re right?

  What happened to tonight? I push the door open and the cold air assaults my body. I’m not dressed for standing outside in forty degree weather. I click back and forth on the sidewalk. I need to call for my car.

  But I can’t without a phone. I drop to the curb in my designer dress and Louboutin heels. I gather my knees to my chest certain that I’m not going to cry. I’m pissed, but crying won’t solve this.

  Then I feel warmth cover my shoulders. I turn to the side and see a black jacket. I glance up and see Ben.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “It’s a public sidewalk.” I’m embarrassed. No wonder the man ignores my flirting. I’m a basket case, and I have basket case friends who can’t whisper.

  “It’s a very dirty sidewalk.”

  I look around me. Too late now. I shrug it off. “I’ve already ruined a five thousand dollar dress and Valentine’s Day. A little dirt can’t possibly make it worse.”

  He sits beside me. Neither of us speak.

  “Can you really help me?” I turn to him.

  “I can.” His confident tone has my attention. “Why do you think your father is doing this?”

  “To teach me how to grow up.” I air quote.

  I’m not ready to admit Harper and Charlee are right. I don’t know the first thing about business. I rest my arms on my knees, searching the area around us. It’s late, and the warehouse district is quiet except for the other restaurants in the area. The smell of the food from the courtyard lingers. The fresh air is helping considering my situation from a different perspective.

  “I know I screwed up.” I play with the zipper on his jacket. “And either my father is betting that I’ll fail, or he’s betting that I know more than I think.”

  Ben nods looking over his shoulder. “Which is it?”

  “I think he is trying to pull something out of me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A boss bitch!”

  I can see the white in Ben’s eyes. His laughter floats up filling the quiet streets with a gut-wrenching sound. I laugh with him until tears spill down my cheeks and my side aches.

  Our laughter dies, and I make a decision. “Ben, will you help me?”

  “Yes, Hunter, I will, under one condition.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He turns sideways on the curb facing me. “I’ll do it for $50,000.”

  Chapter 4

  Ben

  I’m at the stove scrambling eggs when Zoe hops down the stairs. I can tell what they’re learning in preschool by her grand entrance hopping like a bunny, or a frog. I squint my eyes trying to figure it out before she realizes I’m clueless. Life with a four-year-old is always entertaining.

  “Teeth brushed?" I yell over my shoulder.

  “Yes.” Giggle.

  Hop.

  “Face washed?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  Hop. Hop. She’s taking the stairs like a champ.

  “Bed made?”

  “Yeeeesssss.”

  Zoe giggles, pushing her brown curls out of her face. She bounces around with her hands limp at the wrist, hanging like Wendy Williams, all I need to hear is How you doin’ to confirm my decision. She’s not a frog, but a bunny.

  Zoe hits the last stair then hops across the floor stopping at the table. She wraps her tiny hands around the handles, scraping the chair across the floor climbing into her booster seat.

  “Zoe Bunny! What did you do with my Zoe Bear?”

  “Pappa.” Her head falls over to her forearms on the table. “I’m right here.”

  The squeal of her voice fills my heart with happiness. This child always wakes on the right side of life. I laugh letting her glee sink deep into my heart. Adjusting hasn’t been easy for us, but her joy mixed with my determination makes us a knockout duo.

  “Oh, I saw a bunny hopping down the stairs and got worried,” I tease, grabbing her cinnamon waffle from the toaster.

  Zoe stands in her chair, reaching for the syrup. I keep an eye on her not telling her to be careful, but letting my independent bunny shine.

  I turn to the stove the moment she sits. I’m still trying to keep the thoughts of Hunter at bay, which is impossible since we’re meeting after I get Zoe off to school. I kind of feel like a rat asking her for $50,000. Then the letter from Zoe’s school, sitting on our coffee table comes to mind. Helping Hunter could help me pay her tuition for all of next year. That would take the foot off my throat long enough to finish my night school classes and maybe find a job in management with regular hours.

  I love working at S&J, but I don’t see myself as a bartender for the rest of my life. I have business dreams of my own. So, helping Hunter helps Zoe and I too.

  I plate the scrambled eggs next to the waffle and pour a glass of orange juice. I stand back to smile at my handy work. At one time, a balanced breakfast was a spoon of peanut butter and a bowl of Captain Crunch.

  “Eat up, Zoe Bear.” I set the timer on the stove. My Zoe likes to linger, and we can’t be late today. “I’ll be right back.”

  I place a kiss on her on the top of the head, smoothing down her unruly curls. I rush to my room, I’m still undecided about what to wear. Jeans to show I’m comfortable or a suit to show I’m professional. I settle somewhere between the two with slacks and a polo shirt. I grab my laptop and place it in my backpack since I have class tonight. Being a single dad is not easy. I yawn, realizing I forgot my coffee in the kitchen. I toss my homework inside with my computer and head to the kitchen with my keys in hand.

  Zoe has ten minutes, and I use them to review my notes. I saved a business plan template to my computer. I add a few questions I need answered to give this business life.

  This is a $50,000 project. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I glance over at Zoe scrubbing her face with a napkin. She climbs down, placing her bowl in the sink.

  The beep from the stove tells us it’s time.

  “Ready?”

  Zoe dusts the crumbs off her hands with an exaggerated clapping motion. “Yep.”

  “Let’s blow this joint.”

  HUNTER

  I woke up delusional this morning. Blame the vodka. But I’m wishing I didn’t have to meet with Ben today. Am I wrong for hoping Daddy has rethought his tough-love ultimatum?

  My alarm chimes. I toss back the covers hurrying to get dressed and meet Daddy in the kitchen over his morning coffee. I dress with professional precision in skinny leg pants, a crisp white blouse, and enough makeup to make my skin glow. I reach for my red lipstick and place it back.

  Think business, Hunter. Daddy believes I don’t appreciate his hard work, I do. And as much as I can, I understand the gravity of being a self-made millionaire, sort of.

  Hunter, you can’t admit that out loud. There has to be a middle ground. I slide my feet into a pair of professional heels. It takes every ounce of resolve not to groan. I feel itchy and stuffy and not like myself. But if I need to wear these god-awful clothes to make Daddy see, well then pass the blazer.

  I grab my iPad, stopping in front of the mirror. It’s not as bad as I thought. I spin left and right, liking what I see. I grab a hair tie and pull my hair back. Maybe Daddy knows what he’s doing after all.
>
  The chirp of my watch kicks me into gear. The reality of my situation echoes through my foggy brain. I’ve never had a job. I dropped out of college. I basically have no real career prospects.

  “Good morning, Grace.”

  “Miss Hunter.” Her eyes buck in surprise. I never wake up before ten, and it’s seven thirty. My appointment with Ben is at nine before he starts his shift.

  Ben.

  He’s the last person I should ask for help. But last night was the first time he actually said more than the polite niceties required by his job. His eyes held a kindness that almost overshadowed the heat my body feels when he’s near.

  Why do I want a man who doesn’t want me?

  That’s it. I double chop through the air, cutting through the bull. I’m banning all contact with men in the romantic capacity. It’s obvious I know nothing about the male species. I select cheaters, opportunists, men who want to be seen with me. None of which have a genuine interest in getting to know the real me. The me beneath this expensive sew in weave, these mink eyelash extensions, and these expensive threads. The woman who just wants someone to love me.

  No more, no less. I can buy what I want, but what I need is someone who makes me feel special. No makeup, no hair, just Hunter.

  And I can’t tell anyone this, not even my guys. Because I’m Hunter Preston. Life is a box of chocolates or roses, or any other inanimate object meant to explain the unexplainable I call life.

  I guess I want that rainy day kind of love. Where I can curl up in my fuzzy pajamas and my fuzzy socks under my man? Someday. I sigh. Unfortunately, someday is not today.

  I stop outside the kitchen, rolling my shoulders back. I’ve learned a thing or two from my father. I take a deep breath.

  “Good morning, Daddy.” I stroll in, sitting my iPad and purse on the island.

  “Junior.” Daddy’s mouth is wide open. “You look…different this morning. What’s on your agenda?”

  I lean over, kissing his cheek and then move to grab a glass from the cabinet. I pour myself some juice.

  “I’m meeting with a business…con-consultant.” That sounds official enough. Enough to take me seriously I hope. “To discuss my ideas.”

  “A business consultant?” Daddy leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are assessing me. Can he see my heart beating through my chest?

  I can’t think of anything smart to say. So I unlock my phone swiping through my calendar. I’ll have to fake it until I figure this out, and I will figure it out. Last night, I tried to jot down notes for my meeting with Ben. Then I woke up this morning with my face using my iPad as a pillow.

  “Yes. He’s a friend. I thought I’d get started right away. Thirty days will come and go before you know it.”

  “I agree.”

  I look up trying to read his closed expression. I want to ask for more time, for him to stop this crazy write a business plan talk.

  “I’m proud of you, Junior.” He steps over cradling my face. He kisses my forehead.

  “Thanks, Daddy. I’m only hoping I have a little of your brains and a lot of your gumption.”

  “You have it in spades, Hunter. I believe in you.” He taps the end of my nose. “You are my platinum princess. The world is a better place with you in it.”

  “Daddy.” I hold back tears. It’s our thing, and he’s using it. “But what if—”

  “What if you exceed my expectations?” He smiles. “I’ll gladly give you twice the amount you need to get started. I’ll be your number one investor and your number one cheerleader.”

  “Number two, dear.”

  Twice the amount? I straighten. Two million dollars to create a business of my own.

  “Morning, Ma. Where are you off to?” I give her a hug and kiss. My mind still spinning with this new piece of information. But do I have a million dollar concept? Meeting with Ben is looking more promising.

  “This and that.” Mom pours coffee in her to-go mug. “Your father told me about this little challenge of his.”

  “Challenge?” I look over at him. His face gives nothing away.

  A little challenge? He is dangling millions, set aside for me at birth, like a platinum carrot and I’m the rabbit racing to get my hands on it. This is much more than a little challenge.

  Mother chats for a while about her charity events and a meeting with her sorority sisters. Then she kisses us each goodbye.

  “Have a great day, Junior.” He turns to leave.

  “Daddy. I want to propose a revision to this little challenge.” At this moment I’m growing a pair. My heart is creeping up my throat, knowing I can go hard or go home. He’s dangling a single carrot, and I want the whole damn bushel.

  “I’m listening.” I swear his eyes are twinkling like a night sky.

  “When I deliver this plan and you approve,” I step closer, “I want immediate access to two million of my trust and the two million to fund my business.”

  “Four million dollars?” He doesn’t look surprised, which fuels my gumption. “You’re sounding more like my seed, Junior.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I’ll take your request into consideration. But Hunter, you better bring it. Because you have everything to lose and everything to gain.” He kisses my cheek. “Have a productive meeting.”

  “Of course Daddy.” He leaves, and I can’t feel my legs. I crumble to the floor, gasping for air. Did I just set my own damn rattrap with cheese?

  Chapter 5

  Ben

  Hunter enters S&J like she owns the place. She pulls her shades off scanning the interior, stopping once our eyes meet.

  Hunter Preston is off limits. I start a chant as she walks the length of the room to the tune of the clicking of her heels on the hardwood floors. I stare at the ground to see if a runway magically appeared. But the floor is the same.

  My eyes scan up as her legs tug at the slim pants showing off her thick thighs and full hips. Legs I can imagine wrapped around my waist.

  I quickly open my notebook and scribble…

  $50,000…

  Zoe’s private school tuition.

  Not bedding Hunter Preston. The thought makes my mouth water. I better write this business plan like my life depends on it. Because spending time alone with her is going to be a problem and we haven’t even started.

  “Good morning, Hunter.” I clear my throat.

  “Ben.” She tosses her purse in a chair, slipping out of her jacket. “Is Ben short for Benjamin?”

  I nod. Keeping my eyes on her face.

  “Benjamin…”

  “Abbott.”

  “That has a nice ring to it.” Smiling, she pulls her glossy bottom lip between her teeth. She sits across from me, and her knee brushes mine. A bolt of lightning passes between us. Her gaze levels and her sweet lips part.

  I’m drunk, gotta be, because I hear angels. Oh, sweet Jesus, I hear them. I hold her gaze drumming my fingers on my knees beneath the table to release the flood of energy in my body. I feel like I’m in a crazy Hallmark-type Twilight Zone. All I need is a soundtrack…and then Cuffing Season blares through the speakers.

  “My bad man, we thought…” Asher holds up an apologetic hand while holding his wife Jazz close.

  “No man, I’m early. Uh…” I push the frog out of my throat so he can hear me over the music. “Don’t let us stop you.”

  I turn to Hunter, and the room dims around the edges. The heat lingering in her eyes leaves me with few choices and ignoring what I see isn’t an option.

  “They dance together every morning. It’s how he keeps the spark alive.” I smile giving myself time to make a decision. “His words not mine.”

  “That’s romantic.”

  Hunter glances over as Asher pulls Jazz close to him into a slow dance. The only break between their bodies is the obvious baby bump. I look back over at Hunter and see her guard drop, a little. And I extend a hand to her.

  “Dance with me.”

  Her eyes dart
between my hand and my eyes. What I see surprises me. She’s unsure. The music is swirling around us, and suddenly, my doubts are irrelevant. The differences between us seem less important. It’s easy to use Zoe as an excuse. But what man in his right mind would want to approach Hunter with empty hands?

  I earn a decent living. I own my home. I’m honest and trustworthy. I don’t live in her world of luxury trips and rich to do friends. But today, she’s in my world.

  “It’s just a dance, Jo.” She places her hand in mine, and I fold her into my arms. The chorus in my head is happy with her body next to mine. I inhale her soft flower fragrance reminding my heart to function. I’ve imagined holding her, and this is ten times better. Hunter takes a deep breath, and I feel her relax against me.

  “I recall the first day we met. ‘Hey handsome, my name is Hunter, but my friends call me Jo.’” I raise my voice to mimic hers.

  “I do not sound like that.”

  “You do when you’re drunk.”

  Jo turns her head with the sexiest smirk. “I don’t get drunk.”

  “So you meant to call me a nun last night?” It’s my turn to tease, because today, I get to see her animated expressions up close and personal. And she doesn’t disappoint, as she cuts her eyes over at me then glances away. “And what makes you think I’m a nun?”

  Shrug. Her eyes linger on my mouth longer than usual before turning away. A bubble of anticipation brings on a slew of nerves as we dance. My hands encircle her tiny waist, and her arms are draped around my neck.

  “What the Hunter Preston is speechless? I’ve been working here for a year—”

  “Give or take.” She knows.

  “And I can’t recall a time you haven’t popped off a colorful comeback. Why is that Jo?” I hardly hear anyone call her Jo, but it was how she introduced herself the first time we met. Using it feels intimate, it feels right.

  “Maybe it's because last night was the first time we had a real conversation.”