Page 11 of Creole Kingpin
My heels click on the refinished hardwood as I make my way down the stairs and outside to the gate. I reach for the handle, not bothering to check the peephole. No one but Keira and Mount know I bought this place, which means I don’t have to be constantly on guard.Thank God for that.
“What the fuck?” I mumble as I open the gate to find a street kid standing outside, bouncing from foot to foot.
“This is for you.” He shoves something at me, and acting solely on instinct, I reach out to take the small but heavy object from him. As soon as he makes the transfer, he spins to leave.
“Hey!” I yell, but he sprints away. I look down at what he dropped into my hand. It’s pure white, cool, and smooth to the touch.
Wait. Is that apawn? From a chess set?
I shoot out the gate, letting it slam shut behind me as I take off after the kid, running with as much care as I can so I don’t bite it in my designer pumps. He takes a right at the first corner, a couple of buildings down.
Why the fuck is he running? Who sent him?
I get three steps before I collide with a man turning the corner the kid just disappeared around.
He’s startled too. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to slam into you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to dodge around him, but he steps the same way, like we’re freaking dancing. “Excuse me.”
I move the other way, and he does too.
“Oh, jeez. Sorry. Really, I—”
By the time I get around him, the kid is gone.
“Fuck.” I breathe the word out with a sigh.
The guy searches behind himself where I’m looking. “Shit. What’d I do? Are you okay?”
I finally look at his face, and just my luck, he’s all golden blond and attractive as hell. Such a waste.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I wipe the hair out of my face and try to catch my breath. I’m no runner, that’s for sure.
He looks down at me, concern in his predictably blue eyes. “Were you trying to catch that kid who bolted around the corner? Did he steal your purse or something? I can go after him.”
I shake my head. “No. My purse is ...inside my fucking house.” I release another long groan. “Shit.”
The poster boy for the All-American man winces. “Crap. You locked yourself out?” he asks and scratches the back of his neck. “Damn. I would offer to help you get inside, but ... I don’t know how to use a lock pick or where you’d even get one. Clearly, my education is incomplete, because helping beautiful women should always be a top priority.”
His comment is also way too predictable. The obvious flirting is nearly too much. “Don’t worry about me, big shot. I’ll be fine. Have a good one.”
I turn to walk back to my gate, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to break into my own damn house, when he grabs my arm.
That’s a no-no. I jerk back immediately. “What the—”
As I glare at him, his hands go up in the air in surrender. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have ... I’m screwing this all up. I’m new here, and I’m lost. I’m looking for a café, but I left my phone at home, thinking I’d be more present and in the moment. Guess I forgot how much I need GPS to tell me where the hell to go.”
My patience thinning, I roll my eyes. “Which café?”
“Café Envie.”
I nod. “You’re not far. Go to the next intersection and take a left. It’s on the next corner, also on the left.”
“It was really nice to meet you ...” He trails off, clearly waiting for my name.
“A helpful stranger,” I say, squeezing the chess piece in my hand and wanting this guy to get a move on.
His affable expression doesn’t change much at my evasion. If anything, his smile widens. “All right,stranger. Thank you.”
