Page 70 of Cuffed By Your Love
EJ held Elias’s hand like it was sacred, eyes wide like he’d just walked into paradise. Elias leaned down, beard brushing my temple.
“Let me win you something soft to sleep with,” he whispered, voice dark velvet, “even though I plan on taking that job myself.”
Before I could laugh, EJ tugged on his hand. “Daddy, that one! The guns! Can we, can we?”
Elias smirked, tugging me closer before nodding toward the shooting booth. “Light work.”
He winked, then kissed my forehead so soft it had my stomach fluttering like loose balloons in the summer wind. “Go ’head and pick out what you want, gorgeous.”
And Lord, have mercy—he was killing me without even trying. That cream Henley stretched across his chest like it was tailor-made just to snatch my focus, the top button undone enough to show a tease of a tattoo. The sleeves were pushed up, forearms flexing, veins spelling out trouble in cursive. Dark wash jeans sat on his hips like they had permanent residency, and those honey-colored Timbs hit the pavement with a rhythm that screamedhood but holy at the right time.
Father God, if temptation had a uniform, Elias Jamal Edmonds was wearing it tonight.
“Biggest one,” I managed to say, trying to sound calm while my insides were melting down.
EJ was bouncing beside him. “You got this, Daddy! Knock ’em down! Pew, pew, pew!”
Elias rolled his shoulders like he was about to walk into a championship game. The carnie handed him a rifle, and he handled it with the kind of smooth precision that reminded me, detective or not, he’d been raised where aim mattered. He squared up, jaw tight, eyes narrowed.
The bell dinged.Pop. Pop. Pop.Targets flipped over like soldiers falling in line.
The crowd clapped. EJ hollered. “That’s my daddy! He don’t miss, Miss Pretty!”
Elias smirked, dropped the rifle like it was nothing, and strolled back to me with a massive yellow sunshine bear tucked under his arm. Its bright fur glowed in the neon lights like it was made just for me.
“Something loud enough to match you,” he teased, pressing the bear into my arms.
I laughed, hugging the soft fur to my chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
He leaned close, voice dropping low. “Nah. I’m observant. You love yellow, gorgeous. Now you got sunshine even when I ain’t around.”
My throat tightened. He didn’t just see me; heknewme.
But EJ wasn’t done. His eyes darted to the basketball booth. “Bet you can’t make those, Daddy!”
Elias raised a brow, lips tugging into that cocky grin that always did me in. “Bet I can.”
He slid a few bills across the counter, rolled the ball in his palms like it belonged there, and squared up, shoulders back, knees bent, pure rhythm in motion. My chest tightened as I watched him, his hood discipline wrapped in detective poise, looking like a man born for the spotlight.
First shot,swish. The net barely moved. Second, clean. Third, same story.
EJ hollered so loud people turned. “Three! I told you he don’t miss, Miss Pretty!”
Elias winked at me, then flicked the last one with casual arrogance. Swish again. The carnie handed EJ a giant blue kangaroo, complete with a little joey tucked in its pouch. EJ squealed, nearly dropping his lemonade trying to hold it.
“I’m naming him JoJo!” EJ announced proudly, hugging the kangaroo tight.
Elias crouched, steadying his son’s grip. “That’s protection right there. Just like me and you.”
I clutched my sunshine bear, heart swelling so full it felt like it might split. My man. My baby boy. They looked like a promise I didn’t even know I’d been praying for. And in that moment, I felt whole.
We met up with Leila and Jason by the lemonade truck, arms full of stuffed animals like we were smuggling joy. Leila was dressed in her “cute but combative” fit: black shorts cuffed high, combat boots that clacked like they’d stomped somebody before, and lip gloss that gleamed under the neon lights, warning the world:I’m saved, but I’ll still square up if the Spirit moves me.Jason stood at her side, sipping his lemonade like a man who had accepted his role as her bodyguard-slash-bail money planner.
Just when I thought the night was stitched perfectly, my man, my baby boy, my people, the clouds shifted. Literally. The moon dipped behind gray, and the devil herself strutted across the midway in a two-piece romper that fought for its life against her thighs and lashes longer than the wait line for turkey legs.
Taleah.
My cousin, my chaos, dressed in Fashion Nova clearance. She strutted over like she had an RSVP. She didn’t. But mess never needed an invitation.
