Page 34 of Creole Kingpin
“Moses,” Yve says with interest underlying her tone and a smile on her face. “Now that’s a strong name for a man. I can’t say I know anyone in this town with it. Or should I?”
She’s fishing, and I don’t know why I take the bait, but I do. Maybe because I just need to tellsomeoneabout him.
“He’s not from here. We met right after Katrina. He helped me. It was ... different. Like you said.”
Her lips form a perfectO. “And he’s in town? And you’re meeting with him? Wearing this dress?”
I throw my shoulders back, feeling some of my gall return. “If I feel like it. I’m still not sure if I’ll go.”
“Oh, girl. You’ll go. We always do. You have to let me know how it goes. I’ll be dying for news if you don’t.”
My thumb swipes across the smooth material of the dress, and I ignore another chime from my bag. “There may not be anything to tell.”
“I refuse to believe that. Any man who gets your attention is bound to be something remarkable.”
I lift my gaze to her once more. “Why do you say that?”
Yve’s lips press together for a beat, like she’s trying to decide how to answer delicately. Finally, she does. “Because you’ve seen a lot. I imagine men aren’t much of a mystery to you anymore. But you seem intrigued, and I have to believe that means something.”
“Might be something. Might not be. I’ll let you know.”
Thirty minutes later, I leave with the eggplant-purple dress and new lingerie to wear beneath it.
I should have known better than to buy the lingerie, because now all I can think about is watching Moses’s dick harden enough to hammer nails when he sees it.
It takes everything I have to remind myself that I don’t want anything to do with his dick.
I’m also lying to myself.
Fuck.
Almost forgetting, I pull my cell from my bag, hoping it’s not another problem. I silently pray my girls are okay, Norma and Bernadette don’t need me, and that the sky isn’t falling in the Mississippi tonight.
Rhodes: I’m in town if you want to play. Let me know when would be good for you.
Rhodes: Also, I plan on dominating. So be prepared.
A small smile spreads across my lips. If things fall through or go south with the sexy ghost from my past, at least I’ll have a backup plan.
Twenty
Moses
The waiter brings me another three fingers of whiskey, and I thank him. Swirling the liquor in the glass, I check the time.Quarter to ten.I’ve been here almost two hours, sitting at the table by myself, nursing glass after glass of the best damn whiskey I’ve ever tasted.
Magnolia’s not coming, and if I thought she might, I should have known better.
She’s the most maddening woman I’ve ever met, but also the most fascinating. And yet ... a smile stretches across my face because I’m a perverse motherfucker. Maybe even a masochist.
Did I really expect her to fall into my arms as soon as she saw me?Fuck no.
I didn’tjustcome back for Magnolia. I came back for the fight that would come with winning her. Nothing worth having ever comes easy, especially a good woman.
And the best woman I’ve ever met is worth more than a little strife.
I take another sip of whiskey, appreciating the subtle differences in flavor of this vintage compared to the last ones, and think about my next move. Normally, I’ve got things planned a half dozen moves or more ahead, just like I’d play chess, but not with Mags. She’s a special situation, one that requires thinking on the fly and creativity.
Maybe if I ...
