Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Bears,” she answered. “And candy.”
I busted out laughing. “All right, let’s see if we can find a book about one of those.”
“Me again. I’ve got a book right here.” Javier’s voice carried our way. He stood on the other end of the shelf we were near, holding up a book with an illustrated Black girl on the cover, wearing pigtails and licking a lollipop. The title was Sweet Suzie.
“Oohh! Candy!” Aleesa bolted for her dad and threw her hands up. “Lemme see. Lemme see.” She paused when Javier cocked a brow, waiting for the magic word. “Please,” she added with a playful giggle.
He handed the book to her, and she was instantly mesmerized as she flipped through the pages.
“Nice one,” I noted, approaching him.
“See. I am not completely useless.”
“I never believed you were.” I sent him a wink.
Javier studied Aleesa a moment before bringing his gaze up to mine again. “You know we are not only here for Aleesa, right?”
“No?”
“No. I saw you looking at the books and did not want to interrupt you. You can pick out whatever you want too. I will get it for you.”
“Oh—no, Javier. I won’t let you do that. You pay me enough. I can buy my own books, really.”
“I saw you trying to choose between three or four of them.” One of his eyebrows inclined.
“Well, yeah. It’s hard to choose sometimes.”
“Well, that is what I am saying. You do not have to choose. If you want them all, I will get them for you.”
“Seriously?” I deadpanned. “So if I go back over there and pluck out ten books, you’ll buy them all?”
He chuckled. “Ten seems a bit extreme, but yes. It would be no problem.”
“Ten is not extreme for a book lover. That’s us just getting started.”
He continued laughing. “I am being serious. Get as many as you want.” He caught Aleesa’s hand before she could make a dash for the toy section.
“You know books aren’t cheap, right?” I challenged. Because why was he doing this? A guy had never been willing to buy me as many books as I wanted.
“Octavia.” His voice was firm, and his eyes held steady on mine. “Cost is nothing to me, and I do not want you to worry about it either. Consider this my way of saying thanks for taking such good care of my daughter.”
“But that’s my job. And you pay me very well for it.”
“Octavia,” he scolded again. “Are you really going to stand here and argue with me about not buying you something you love?”
“I don’t mean to argue, I just . . .” The center of my chest warmed as I struggled to find the right words. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I suspiciously narrowed my eyes at him.
“Would you rather I be grumpy? Because I can be. I am very good at it. You said so yourself.”
I laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay then.”
Holding on to Aleesa’s hand, he stepped closer and raised his free hand to stroke my upper arm. It was a soothing touch. Couple that with the way he looked into my eyes, and every part of me felt gooey and warm.
“I want you to have a good time, and I want you to be happy. That is all. Now go.” He cocked his head, gesturing for me to get to it. “Find me when you are ready, amor.”
That was another thing. Calling me love in Spanish. One hundred percent endearing. I’d thought he was only using it for sex, to enhance the moment, you know? But he was still calling me it . . . and I secretly loved it. Lord. He had to stop this. It was too much for me to handle right now.
I bobbed my head and walked away, because if I didn’t, I was going to jump on that man and climb him like a tree.
Twenty-Eight
Javier
Octavia selected five books because, in her words, she did not “wanna be greedy.” Right after we checked out, she jumped to throw her arms around my neck and then kissed my cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear.
She did not know how much that small act meant to me. To feel appreciated for something. To feel wanted by a woman and cared for.
I tried my best not to think too much of it—she was simply thanking me—but it was hard not to think about it when she looked at me with those big, sparkling brown eyes.
Or when she bit her bottom lip.
Or when she stared at my mouth, like she wanted more than just a peck on the cheek.
After leaving the bookstore, Octavia somehow convinced me to stop at an ice cream parlor. This was a bad idea. Everyone knew not to feed a four-year-old ice cream with sprinkles at eight o’clock at night.
“I’ll tucker her out so she burns it off, I promise.” Octavia sat down at a table near the window, and I joined her.