Rock Chick Reborn (Rock Chick #9)(28)

“Something wrong with your car?” he asked.

“I hope not, since Roam’s out on a date in it.”

“Something wrong with your phone?”

I was confused but I answered, “No.”

“So is there some reason you didn’t use it to phone and ask me to pick you up?”

Ah.

“It’s all good, my man,” I assured. “I’m an Uber expert.”

“Sniff at home?” he asked, not moving from barring me from his house.

“No. He’s out with some buds,” I answered.

“So it isn’t that you didn’t want him to catch me picking you up.”

Hmm.

“Moses.”

“Okay. Before we start this date, since I got your undivided attention, I’ll share something important. You’ve been an independent woman a long time. Lookin’ out for yourself. Lookin’ out for your boys. I get that’s habit. And I’ll point out I find it attractive. But we do this, it works with you and me, you will no longer be alone. You’ll have someone to help look out for you. Granted, you’ll have someone else to look out for, but he’ll be returning that favor. To end, if you need a ride, you call.”

If I was a normal Rock Chick, say, any one of them but Daisy, I would lose my mind at him barring the door to deliver this statement, a statement not even vaguely disguised as a command. I’d then stomp off and call my girls to meet me at a bar so I could throw a hissy fit.

I was not a normal Rock Chick.

I was me.

So I said, “Okay.”

“Okay, baby,” he whispered then moved aside so I could enter his house.

I walked in, deciding not to hide I was interested in what I was seeing.

Up front, carpeted stairs that were nice.

To the right, a door that opened to what was clearly a laundry/storage room, what with the telltale signs of washer and dryer and bikes mounted on the wall.

I headed up the steps.

There was a landing where things got interesting, this being a little alcove cut out of the pearly-white wall. There was an African tribal mask on a stand set there, lit from above. It was beat up a little, but painstakingly painted, and still had all the little shells that ran across the top.

“Nice,” I noted, stopping to look at it.

“Ngady amwaash. Mask for a woman. From the Congo.”

I looked up at him. “No kidding?”

“My uncle was a collector of African art. On our twenty-first birthdays, he gave all his kids and nieces and nephews a piece.” He tipped his head to the mask. “That was mine.”

I looked down at it. “It’s amazing.”

“Yep.”

“I should do something like that for Roam,” I murmured.

“Yep.”

I looked at him again to see he was grinning at me.

He then put his hand to the small of my back and propelled me up the next flight of stairs.

More nice.

Wood floors.

A living room to the left, big.

A kitchen to the right, also big, off which there was a bar and beyond that a dining room table.

Balconies off the front and back.

I didn’t know what was behind it, but between living room and kitchen there was a big pantry, the doors were open and inside it was a work of art.

“Don’t get ideas,” Moses said as I stared at it. The distressed wood countertop that had been installed into it. The drawers under it with interesting handles, the cabinets under the drawers that had dense wire mesh as fronts. The shelves above it a display of pantry-type items in baskets, jars and glass canisters as well as cans on recessed baby shelves. All of it could be photographed for a magazine. “I let my oldest loose on that. I made it. She designed it. And after her week is up with her mom, she comes back and straightens it when I fuck everything up.”

I again turned my gaze to him. “She’s got an eye.”

“She wants to be an interior designer, and the rest of the house will reflect her desire to do that.”

I smiled at him.

He took that opportunity to lean in and touch his lips to mine.

Oowee.

When he pulled back, I tried to keep breathing right as I remarked, “It’s sweet, you let her loose.”

“Let her loose as much as I can. She’s got an eye, a talent, and will need clients who do not have the limited budget her old dad has. Fortunately, she looks at it as a challenge.” His gaze roamed my face before he looked back into my eyes and asked, “You hungry?”

I nodded.

Hand to my waist, he propelled me into his kitchen, saying, “Let’s get you fed.”

Interesting punched tin backsplash above the stove. Gray concrete countertops. Stainless steel appliances. His girl took into account her dad was a guy in everything but the stained glass suncatcher hanging in the window shaped like a sunflower.

“You wanna sit in front of the TV and eat or you wanna eat at the bar and talk first?” Moses asked, getting down plates.

“Bar,” I answered. “Can I help?”

“Next time, yeah. This time, let me look after you. Have a seat at the bar, baby. Wine to drink? Or beer.”

“Wine’s good,” I told him, heading around to the wooden stools on the other side of the bar.