Page 69 of Creole Kingpin
He pauses chopping whatever he’s got on the cutting board and takes me in. “You look pretty fancy to me. Everything he’s said about you over the years is starting to make sense.”
Instantly, I want to ask what Moses could have possibly said about me over the years, but I don’t. I’m stunned by the fact he talked about me at all, truthfully.
Sensing my shock, Jules smiles, and there’s a kindness to it that’s undeniable. “Moses is out in the courtyard. You want coffee?”
Coffee.My entire body practically moans at the thought. “I would love some.”
He puts his knife down and wipes his hands as he gives me that easy smile. “I’ll bring some out to you. How do you take it?”
“Black.” My standard retort,like my heart, is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. Even in lightheartedness, the words seem wrong now somehow.
Maybe because my heart isn’t what I thought it was. It’s changing. Coming to life again. Beating with anticipation about the thought of walking out the big glass doors to find the man who slept next to me, even after he was so mad he didn’t want to face me.
I swallow, not knowing how this will go. But to Jules, I offer a quiet, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“My pleasure, Magnolia. And, by the way, it’s really good to finally meet you.”
His statement makes me smile. I’m not used to men just being friendly and polite without wanting something in return. It’s refreshing.
My entire body vibrates as I walk through the doors and out into the morning sunshine. The golden rays reflect off the crystal blue waters of the pool, but my attention goes directly to the man sitting at the table with his back to me.
As I step onto the paver path through the grass, I see the newspaper in front of him and watch as he lifts a steaming cup of coffee to his lips.
He’s wearing black basketball shorts and a ribbed tank top. And,good Lord,does he look good. He was a beautiful man before, and time has done nothing but hone his perfection.
I haven’t given myself much of a chance to compare this new version of Moses to the old, but in the bright light of day, I can’t help but do exactly that. His muscles are bigger, and he’s definitely more built than before.
There’s a maturity to him he didn’t have back then. The Moses of old wouldn’t have walked away from me last night to let his temper cool rather than going at it and saying things we didn’t mean. He’s still not willing to take shit from anyone, though, if how he handled Rhodes was any indication. Comfortable in his own skin and sexy as hell, that’s Moses.
For a single moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this was our life. Like, ourreal life. Moses up early while I sleep in. I come outside to him drinking coffee and reading the paper. I imagine coming up behind him and leaning over to press a kiss against one of those big, beautiful shoulders and saying,“Morning, Moby. Thanks for the extra shut-eye. I needed it after last night.”Because, of course, in our fantasy life, he’d work me over good every night, making sure I get what I need—and not just because he loves it when I scream his name when I come. But also because I do the same for him.
God, with that vision in my head, I wish it were true.
I wish I felt well-used this morning. I wish with every step I took, I could feel him between my legs.I miss him. All of him.
“You okay?”
Moses’s deep voice pulls me from my daydream, where I’m standing ten feet away, creeping like a pro. He turns his head, and I catch his sharply handsome profile.
I still my shaky, sweaty hands by running them down my sides. “Yeah ... uh, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking about joining me?” He motions to the chair across from him. “Because you’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my shit together and crossing the remaining distance between me and the chair, but I pause with my hand on the back of it first. “I’m sorry about last night.”
Before I can say more, Moses shakes his head. “You don’t have shit to be sorry for. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask me to come back after fifteen years and barge into your life. I should apologize, but I can’t be sorry for it either.” He leans back and gazes up at me. “Hell, Mags. We’re both stubborn and hotheaded. We’re bound to fight.”
He’s giving me an out, but deep down, I’m sure I can’t take it. I need to say what’s on my mind.
“Still, I need you to know I took a walk in your shoes, when you didn’t come to bed last night. I get it. Chess is special. It’s been special since the first game we played. I’d be pissed as hell if I walked in on what you did. I get it.” I trace the iron edge of the table. “I’ve always done what I had to do to survive. And sometimes, playing chess was the only thing getting me through. It made me feel good because it made me feel closer to you.”
It should be easy, but I have to fight to look directly at Moses. His green eyes linger on my face, and there’s no anger or sharpness in them. There’s something else, something that fills me with warmth, even more than the heat of the sun on my skin.
“Ah, mama. I get that. More than you probably imagine. We all do what we gotta do to survive, including me. I’ve been doing the same thing. Missing you like crazy.” He nods at the seat I’m standing beside. “Sit. Join me.”
I lower myself into the chair, and his confession knocks loose more words I never expected I’d have the chance to say.
“I’ve missed the hell out of you too, Moby. It didn’t even seem real sometimes, you know? Two weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things, but you left a mark on me I couldn’t erase, no matter how hard I tried sometimes.”
