Page 13 of Another Constant

“You better. Love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

When we finally hung up, I took my car out of park and pulled forward. When I pulled into the garage, he was standing there.

This man was fine, so fucking fine. Those long, perfectly proportioned locs were in a bun atop his head, adding to the dangerous appeal he gave. He wore a tank top and his shop suit, the top half tied at his waist, like he’d probably gotten hot wearing it. I surely wasn’t complaining, especially not when he opened my door for me to get out.

“Hello to your rude ass too, Harlem,” he greeted in a voice to hydrate the thirstiest.

My mouth I didn’t even realize was open popped close quickly. “Rude? How?”

“’Cause you brought your lil ass in here and didn’t speak.”

I chuckled. “Correction, I haven’t come in yet. I’m still in the car. But hello to you too, Kinga.”

He smirked, something I could tell was foreign to his handsome face. He seemed like he was always irritated, always ready to crash out. I just bet he was the strict kind.

“What you bring me to eat?” he asked, reminding me that he’d indeed required that I feed him tonight.

“Nachos but with French fries. Do you have a microwave so I can put it together? I brought the condiments because I didn’t know what you ate.” I reached toward the passenger side for the lunch bag I had not only packed for myself but him as well. I figured while he fixed I’d eat or we’d both eat at some point.

He nodded. “Yeah, come on.”

I grabbed the bag and got out of the car. Once he had the garage door secured, he led me into the actual shop. It was nothing like I expected. Shoot, I didn’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. It was clean and had order. Then we entered the kitchen and it was absolutely the cleanest men’s kitchen I had ever seen.

“It’s so clean here,” I complimented, setting the food on the counter.

“What you tryna say, Harlem?” He took a seat at the island, giving himself a good view.

I smiled. There was something about the way he said my name. He was so comfortable saying it, so familiar. “It was just a compliment.”

“Mhmm. Women don’t just compliment. They say shit with underlying meanings.”

I laughed. “Maybe the women you encounter do, but not me. No underlying meaning is necessary because I’m grown and I think we’ve established that I’ma say what’s on my mind.”

Again this big, sexy hunk of man meat smiled at me and it took everything in me not to smile back. It was never a good idea to smile at a man like him. Shit… next thing you knew, you were getting your core wrecked on an uncomfortable three seater sofa with fucking cuckabugs along the material.

“Maybe.” That was his only response before his phone began to ring. He answered it, putting it to his ear and leaving me to do what I needed.

Once my hands were clean, I moved around his kitchen like it was mine. First I unwrapped the condiments—sour cream, green onions, tomatoes, and a few other necessary options. Then I poured the golden steak fries into a pan and pushed them into the oven on air fry. After that I worked with the microwave to warm both my meat and cheese. Though my focus was on the tasks at hand, I could feel his eyes with every move while whomever on the phone had his attention.

“You cook on a regular basis?” he asked, making me turn around. His phone was no longer at his ear, but on the counter. His face was tight, much tighter than it was before he got on the phone.

“Yeah. I gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but most motherfuckers got those apps downloaded. They gotta eat too.”

I shook my head. “Can’t go out like that. Death by poisoning because she trusted somebody else’s kitchen, or worse, somebody she didn’t even know to deliver her meal. Nah. If I want it, I’ll cook it and if I don’t feel like it, I’ll go get it or call my mother to do it.”

He nodded. “So you can cook whatever?”

“Within reason. Not sweets though. I never mastered that baking skill.”

“Never? It ain’t that hard.” His response made me look at him.

“You know how to bake?” I found myself asking in complete and utter shock. Yep, I prejudged this fine hood ass man.

“Yeah. There you go.”

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