Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I strolled toward them, leaving Momma’s tote bags on the short fountain edge facing NOMA. Then I strutted around the cold stone, chest puffed out like George Jefferson, knowing good and well I’d listen in first.
With my vantage point of half her face and the back of his head, I assessed the situation and sighed. Oh, thank God. Everything was going left. The guy tilted his phone her way. As Madison glimpsed the screen, she stepped back, and her expression went from polite to boy, you got me messed up.
From my angle, I caught sight of the screen.
No. Nope. The audacity was on full display, in high definition. But it was little. Noodle little.
Dude was one pixel away from having me come out of my farmers-market Nike-Tek suit and into a mugshot.
mad
. . .
My mouth dropped open so fast, I almost swallowed my tongue. I stared at this fool, gauging the contagiousness of his stupidity. “I don’t know if your brain packed up and decided to hide in your ass,” I growled, “but I am not the one, Chad! Put. That. Away.”
Cheap body spray, as slimy as his smile, overpowered me as he tried to lean in. “I thought, since you do custom glass, maybe you could immortalize me.”
“Immortalize? Baby, the only thing about that picture that deserves immortalization is your nerve.” I pointed at the tiny, mocha member on his phone. “Because that ain’t sculpture material. That’s a clearance item.”
He blinked, confused. “You’re saying … it’s small?”
“Okay, delusional and perverted!” I snapped. “You’re lucky I left my blowtorch in the car, or I’d have …”
My retort trailed off in the mid-March air when a hand clutched Chad’s shoulder from behind. The little freak jerked, twisted, and tried to yank free, but Washington strolled around until he was at his side. That unforgiving hold was stronger than any best-selling eyelash and wig glue combined.
“Chad?” Wash’s voice rolled like thunder on Bourbon Street. Deep. Calm. Lethal.
“Who the hell are you?” Chad sneered.
“I’m Judge Washington Babineaux, her husband.”
I wasn’t sure what caused the man’s knees to buckle. The first or the second title.
While the man rambled explanations and apologies, Washington adjusted his grip enough to bring the dude to his knees. He asked Chad’s last name, which he used so casually as if checking the weather. “Chad Finkle, are you familiar with Louisiana Penal Code Section 14:106?”
Chad froze. “Uh, no, sir?”
“Judge Babineaux. I’m gonna assume you haven’t gone to court before the State of Louisiana. Allow me to educate you.” Washington leaned in, his Creole growl audible over the crowd. “Exposing a woman to your male … bits without consent? Falls under indecent behavior. If she wants to press charges, she can.”
Chad’s mouth flapped like a fish. “I-I didn’t mean to. I respect your-your … is she really your wife?” He muttered, “Oh God, oh God,” before Washington even gave a firm nod. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Babineaux.”
Washington shoved him in the chest, and Chad stumbled back. “Mr. Finkle, check yourself, your ego, your damn phone, and get the hell outta here.”
Chad nodded so fast that his neck gave a painful jerk. “Yes, sir.” He ran off.
My ex-husband pinned me with a glare, head tilted sideways, bald head my forever dream. “Madison, why are you over here tryna give me a heart attack?”
“I could’ve handled him.”
“And if you met him somewhere with fewer people around? He could’ve dragged you into an alley!”
“Shouldn’t you fist pump me for being ready to throw hands and my wrath at someone other than you?”
“Nope. I’m just gonna let me take you to dinner.”
He strolled around the fountain as if searching for something on the ground. His long stride versus my smaller steps forced me to walk-run to keep up. “What?” I squeaked. “That doesn’t make sense. If you think you saved me, shouldn’t you ask me to pay for dinner?”
Washington stopped glancing at the ground. “You got money?”
I placed my hand on my hip. “Actually, I have fifty dollars. Chad agreed to my retainer fee to meet.”
“You mention his name again and no free …” His voice trailed off, still preoccupied with the fountain’s edge.
“A free meal? Yeah, I’ll take a free meal,” I replied before I could even ask myself what the hell had gotten into me. The distance between us this past year made it impossible to stare at that hypnotizing dome of his. But when he stood right in my face, my heart skipped so many beats that I wondered if I should see a cardiologist. “So, free meal?”
Washington cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody stole my momma’s groceries. Gimme a second.” He took out his phone and called Miss Virginia. “Momma, I’m sorry. I … Oh, you did? Okay.” His thumb mashed the Off button.
I stared up at him, trying not to lose myself in those dark brown eyes that sparked with embarrassment. And just like that, he was the guy I met in college. Yes, he’d been five years older. Twenty-two to my seventeen, but he had no game. No swag. He didn’t even have that sexy bald head. Only an easy-to-read, cute face. And a long trail of one-nighters who bragged about him for a specific reason. “Momma Virginia stole her own groceries?”