Page 66 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy

“Shawty, you hilarious,” I told her, shaking my head. “For real, though, I really like your vibe.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

I leaned forward a little. “So, real talk, why ain’t you dating anybody? You seem like the type that should be married already.”

“I could be dating. And honestly, I probably should be because I’m young, fine, smart, and pretty.” She said it matter-of-factly, no shame in her game.

“Damn, you a little vain, ain’t you?” I joked, but I was grinning.

She threw a piece of hash brown at me. “Boy, whatever. But nah, for real, though, I never bump into the right kind of guys, you know? And I don’t want to force it. Plus, dating can betiresome at times. Just giving somebody else all your time is draining. So, I’ma sit back and wait for Mr. Right to find me.”

“Yeah, I feel you on that.”

“So, what about you? You dating?” She tilted her head at me, curious. “And don’t just say you’re not. Tell me why.”

I sat back and thought about that for a second. “My life is pretty demanding right now, shawty. My main focus is Summer and my security business. I got a lot going on, especially with all the traveling I do.”

“So, who’s making sure you’re good?” she asked, and I wasn’t expecting that.

I smiled at that question. There was something real in the way she asked it. “Nobody. Why? You trying to make sure I’m good?”

“Yeah, actually, I am,” she said, and she wasn’t joking.

“I like that,” I said, and meant it.

“You say you like stuff a lot,” she pointed out. “Seems like you just like any old thing.”

“Nah, that ain’t true. I’m selective.”

“Okay, so if you had the free time to start dating, what would you want?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind coming home to some home-cooked meals, some massages, good conversation, good sex. That type of vibe.”

She put her fork down and looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Oh, so I’m supposed to be at the door with my hand out, ready to rub your feet and all that?”

I laughed. “Nah, I was talking about massaging my back and shoulders, mama, but you can if you want to.”

“I mean, I don’t mind massaging my man’s feet. I kinda got a thing about feet, though. I hate ’em real bad, but as long as you bring home the bacon and handle the bills, I’ll massage your feet, boo. You better reciprocate too!”

“Aight, that’s what I’m talking about,” I said, but then I bent down and looked at her feet under the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, suspicious.

“Your feet a little funny-looking, shawty.”

She kicked me under the table. “Boy, my feet are not funny-looking! They pretty! They done up nice! And don’t even act like you wouldn’t put them in your mouth.”

I looked down at them again, then back up at her with a smirk. I let my eyes do the talking for a second before I said, “You know what? You right. I would. I’d suck on them toes for real.”

She put her hand over her mouth and laughed. “Not a toe sucker! Princeton, what is wrong with you?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me, shawty.”

We kept talking and laughing and were just about done with our food when my phone rang.

I looked down at the name, confused.

“Everything good?” Nourah asked.