Page 12 of The Brooklyn Way

Nyrah choked on her water, while Tiara scowled at me.

I shot her an innocent look. What did she expect? To shit on me and me just let it happen? Not anymore.

2

Cameron

It was a thirty-minute ride from the airport to my home in the Harbor Mist section of Jackson Island—a small barrier island off the Southeast coast of South Carolina. Growing up on the ocean had made water the thing that comforted and calmed me the most. Ever since elementary school, I’d promised myself that one day I would purchase a home on the water and I did. My house was probably larger than what I needed, being a single man and all. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was large and it did happen to have a guest house that was the size of some people’s main houses on the property. The main house had views of the ocean waterway from almost every room. The guest house overlooked the pool.

For years, my twin sister lived in my guest house. It was constructed and decorated to her tastes. Recently, she and her future husband completed a custom build on their own house, so she moved out. I thought the guest house would remain empty indefinitely, but Carrington had apparently taken it upon herself to offer it to her former college roommate. I couldn’t remember if old girl was in an abusive situation or if her ex was just an asshole, but Carrington insisted that her friend needed to get away.

I had a thing about saving women, so I went along with it and let the young lady have my place. My therapist probably wouldn’t agree with my decision. He was trying to get me to get out of the habit of trying to save women and I was working on it. But I didn’t feel like this was that. I felt like this was general human kindness. Carrington’s homegirl needed a helping hand. I offered her one. I wasn’t trying to save her. I was just trying to be kind.

Shit. I didn’t know. It was whatever. If I was feeding my dysfunction, then I would deal with it in therapy. Otherwise, the woman was welcome to stay until she could get on her feet, providing that she wasn’t a crazy stalking fan or that she didn’t fuck with my peace.

When the driver pulled into the driveway of my place, I couldn’t help but notice the bright red Range Rover already parked there. I got my bag from the trunk, wished the driver well and watched him pull away, keeping one eye on the Rover.

In Chicago, I had two security guys who went wherever I went. But that was Chicago and this was Jackson Island. I knew almost everybody who lived here. I didn’t feel the need for security at home. But that unidentified Rover was giving me pause, especially with the fact that the windows were basically blacked out. I couldn’t see who was inside. Slowly, the door of the red truck began to open.

I waited.

A pretty woman—tiny, skin the color of toasted caramel, bone-straight, shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes, and lips painted a juicy pale tan—exited the truck.

I matched the smile that she gave me, showing all thirty-two of her pearly whites.

“Welcome home,” she sing-songed before practically throwing herself into my arms.

“Thanks.” I dropped my bag to the ground, then caught her. I crushed her in a hug, taking note that she felt almost exactly the same as the last time I’d held her.

There were women in our graduating class who had gained weight since leaving high school almost ten years earlier. Then there was Tiara Smith. She was still the same fairy-small woman she had always been.

She finally released me, stepping back to take me in. Her eyes raked over me slowly as she unabashedly let her gaze rest on my… middle before dragging it up to my face.

“You good? You see everything you need to see?” I questioned.

A devious grin appeared on her face. “Hey, don’t judge me for looking when you’re out here dressed like a little slut. Your mama see you in these pants? I know she and the good doctor raised you better than this.” She gestured to the gray sweatpants that were haphazardly hanging from my waist.

“And I know that the major general and his wife raised you better than to be staring at my dick so hard that you could hardly greet me.” I teased her back.

Tiara was the daughter of a strict career military man.

“My daddy is a chief master sergeant, thank you very much. Get his title right.”

I stepped closer to her, mushing her in the head lightly. “Shut up.”

She tried to punch me, but I caught her wrist, pulling her back into my arms for another quick hug.

“What are you doing here? How’d you even know I was coming?” I questioned.

“Your dad mentioned it.”

That made sense. Tiara’s father and my father were friends and golf buddies.

I nodded before bending down and grabbing my bag from the ground.

Tiara followed me as I made my way to the front door. It was a combination of southern hospitality and the manners that my mom drilled into me that stopped me from making up an excuse as to why she couldn’t come into the house with me. I wasn’t really up for entertaining company. All I wanted to do was crash on the nearest soft surface and get some sleep.

Still, I unlocked the front door and led her inside, before taking a good look around.

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