Page 107 of Certified To Handle You 2

“At the door,” he replied like it was the most normal answer in the world. “Open this muthafucka.”

I blinked and looked toward the front door.

Before I could say anything, a knock landed against it.

“You serious?” I asked even though I was already standin’.

I ended the call and hurried across the living room while tryin’ to keep myself from lookin’ too excited. By the time I reached the door, I had to slow down and take a second because I refused to greet this nigga lookin’ like I had been waitin’ by the window for him. Finally, I opened it.

Renza stood on the other side with one hand tucked in the pocket of his dark jeans and the other holdin’ his phone. He had on a fitted black shirt that stretched across his chest and arms, and the chain around his neck rested against the fabric. His haircut looked fresh enough for him to have just left the barber. His waves was deep, his beard was dark and lined sharp around his face, and the sight of him had every thought in my head trippin’ over the next one.

Then his cologne reached me. That scent had always done somethin’ to me. It was deep, clean and expensive, and it mixedwith the smell of his skin in a way that brought back too many nights of me sleepin’ against his chest.

Renza looked me over once, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“You gon’ let me in?” He asked.

I stepped aside and tried to keep my face neutral. “You could’ve called and told me you was out here.”

“I was finna call,” he replied as he walked past me. “Then you beat me to it.”

I closed the door behind him and turned around. He had already slipped his shoes off near the wall like he still knew how I liked my floors, then he looked around the condo before bringin’ his eyes back to me.

“It smell good in here,” he said.

“I cooked earlier,” I answered while folding my arms. “You hungry?”

Renza walked closer and wrapped one arm around my waist before I could prepare myself. He pulled me into his chest and hugged me like it didn’t take no thought at all. My body softened against him before my pride could stop it.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his chest while that familiar warmth moved through me. He rubbed his hand along my back once, then kissed the top of my head before lettin’ me go.

“What you cook?” He asked.

“Steak, greens, mashed potatoes and cornbread.”

“Shid… I’ll take a plate,” he said without hesitatin’.

I looked up at him because I had expected him to say he already ate or wasn’t hungry. “You want all of it?”

“I do.”

“Sit down somewhere,” I told him while headin’ toward the kitchen. “I’mma warm it up.”

Renza pulled out one of the chairs at the dining table and sat while I fixed his food. I put the steak and potatoes on one side, added greens and cornbread, then covered the plate before puttin’ it in the microwave.

While it warmed, I could feel him watchin’ me.

I looked over my shoulder. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he answered, his eyes movin’ over me again. “You look good.”

The compliment came out simple, but it landed all through me.

“Thank you,” I replied before turnin’ back toward the microwave.

When the food was ready, I carried it to the table with a bottle of water and sat everything in front of him. Renza looked down at the plate, then picked up his fork and cut into the steak.

I went back to the living room, poured myself a little more wine and sat back on the couch while he ate. I turned the television on low, but my attention stayed on the sounds comin’ from the dining area.