Page 11 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

My hypocrisy didn’t escape me. I was jealous of her date.

When I’d asked Kandace about her romantic life, I hadn’t expected she would be actively dating. The last time we’d talked, she was very single, but alas, anything can happen over three years.

I should’ve called Celeste to inform her that her daughter was meeting a stranger for drinks. Celeste would have put an end to this dating foolishness.

VINO was within walking distance. I thought about casually strolling into the bar, but I knew I’d look like a creep if I popped up. Instead, I picked up my phone and opened Facebook. Women typically documented every step they took, so I was sure Kandace had posted an update. Unfortunately, she was a betrayal to her sex because she hadn’t updated her Facebook in months. An Instagram search for her proved unsuccessful.

Feeling defeated, I resigned to spending the evening catching up on editorial news programs. Armed with a canister of almonds and a bottle of Sam Adams, I sprawled out on the sectional with the remote glued to my hand. I devoted the next two hours simultaneously flipping through channels while checking my phone for text messages from Kandace.

My fixation on Kandace’s date wasn’t healthy. I was jealous of some asshole who wouldn’t make her happy.

I tossed back a handful of almonds when the doorbell rang, and I lazily pulled out my iPad to open the security app. It wasn’t unusual for stumbling and falling revelers to mistake my building for their hotels or condo rentals. I readied myself to point them in the right direction or shoo them away. Instead, Kandace’s wild mane of hair filled the screen, and I immediately buzzed her in.

I met her in the elevator vestibule. Her tear-stained face was crimson-tinged, and her eyes were swollen and puffy as she avoided my gaze. Fury blazed through me. I grabbed her by the shoulders and scanned her for any obvious bruises or marks.

“Kandace, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Her chest heaved while she tried to catch her breath.

“My date was awful.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. It was such a disappointment. I will block him.”

I released my breath with a huff. Whew. It was a crash and burn.

“We met at VINO. He talked about himself the entire time. He told stories of every single piece of lowbrow sex in his sexual past. Sex with prostitutes. Sex with judges. Sex with cougars.”

I inspected her as we rode the elevator to my floor. The man was a fool. She had everything a man wanted in and out of his bed. Kandace was funny, and she had an opinion. Not to mention she was sexy. She wore a simple black sweater tank and white skinny jeans. The sweater cinched in at her waist and accentuated her full cleavage. Kandace was way too hot to deal with the likes of that asshole.

I guided her to the sectional, and with eyes lowered, she continued the story.

“He got angry because I picked two pours of the more expensive wine. The pours were six dollars. Apparently, he’s a ‘quantity over quality’ man because he drank several one-dollar pours of swill. He also had two vodka tonics. One hour into the date, he began slurring his words and talking too loudly.”

“He wanted to get you drunk,” I answered bluntly. She winced before acknowledging that I was right.

I walked over to the kitchen for a bottle of water and a box of tissues. She wiped her nose before opening the bottle. I took the seat next to her and attentively listened to the story.

“Thanks. Once he was drunk, he started putting his hand on my thigh. I smacked it away, and the other hand started slinking up my stomach. Eventually, he grabbed at my boob.” She lowered her head in shame. “I elbowed him in the side, but I should’ve punched him in the nuts.”

I let out a low growl. I took her in my arms and pulled her into a tight hug. Every curve on her body pressed against me as she sniffled.

“I’m fine. He started getting belligerent, and . . .” Her breathing faltered. “He called me a . . . cocktease!” she wailed. Her beautiful face crumpled as my anger rose to epic proportions.

I pressed my lips together to stifle a stream of obscenities, clutching her against my chest.

“He said I’m no Meghan Markle or Beyoncé. Ha! Like he’s Prince Harry.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “He spent the entire evening coming up with limericks and raps. He made up one about me. Wanna hear it?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Okay . . .” Kandace avoided eye contact as she recited, “There once was a girl named Kandi. She gave me a job that was handy. Her wrist game was strong as she stroked on my schlong. She made a young man feel dandy.”

She stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. Like a pressure valve, the silly face released the pent-up anger that we both felt. And for the first time that evening, we erupted in simultaneous laughter.

“He’s a regular poet laureate.” I breathed deeply as I bit down laughter.

“Ugh. He’s awful. It was the worst date of my life. To top it off, he inhaled all the appetizers, and I’m starving.”

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