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Authors: Niobia Bryant

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BOOK: Red Hot
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“Like he don't have enough on his plate,” Quinton muttered under his breath.
“Exactly,”
Kaitlyn stressed.
“I don't respect cheating,” Quint said, turning to look up at the picture of Kaitlyn hanging on the wall beside him. “Just end the relationship and save everyone the heartache.”
Kaitlyn walked over to stand beside him and peer up at the homage to herself as well.
“True,” she agreed.
“Is that a weave?” he asked.
“No,”
Kaitlyn stressed.
Quint glanced at her face. “The shorter hair brings out your eyes more, but why'd you cut it?”
Kaitlyn shifted her eyes to him and then playfully posed. “It's just hair. It'll grow back, if I let it,” she said. “Just like it would all be silver, if I let it.”
That obviously surprised him.
“My whole family is prematurely gray. We get it from our dad,” she told him, moving over to pick up one of the picture frames on her nightstand to show him . “On men? Sexy. On a twenty-something young lady? Witchlike.”
Quint looked at the photo and then up at Kaitlyn as she smiled sadly.
Kaitlyn missed her family. She spoke to her brothers and went to their homes, when she knew her parents weren't there. She missed the entire family getting together for Sunday dinner after church, birthdays, and holidays.
“What are you doing here, Kaitlyn Strong, youngest daughter of the wealthy ranching Strong family?” he asked.
Kaitlyn chuckled as she looked down at the group photo taken at Zaria and Kaleb's wedding. Everyone was smiling and huddled close together to make sure they all fit. It wasn't a good feeling to think she didn't fit in the family picture anymore. She swallowed over an emotional lump in her throat. She didn't miss Quint's eyes dipping to her throat to take in the innocent move.
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Yes,” Quint said with enthusiasm as he smiled at her. “Curiosity is killing me.”
“My parents were pissed I spent, like, thirty grand at one store when I was in Paris this summer, and they lowered my monthly budget to ‘teach me a lesson.'” Kaitlyn did the air quotes with her fingers, her sarcasm clear.
Quint eyed her incredulously. “Kaitlyn, you do understand some people don't make thirty grand in a year?” he said slowly.
“Yes, I understand that . . . but not
my
parents,” she countered.
Quint wiped his mouth with one of his large hands. “Okay, maybe your parents make that in a month and you blew it in an hour?”
Kaitlyn widened her eyes. “You know nothing about what my parents make,” she told him, turning to set the picture frame back in its spot.
“Okay, but do you?”
Kaitlyn didn't answer him. She didn't mean to. Of course she knew nothing about her family business matters. Why would she?
“Listen, all I know is I've lived where I wanted, bought what I wanted, vacationed wherever I wanted, and it was fine—”
“On their expense?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes,”
she answered with emphasis.
“And how old are you?”
Kaitlyn didn't answer, and she didn't mean to . . . again.
“My point is, all of a sudden they pull the rug from under me and I had to move from James Island to
here
—”
“James Island, huh?” Quint said with a steep whistle.
Kaitlyn's eyes lit up and she reached for his wrist. “And it was right off the water, with real hardwood floors and a gourmet kitchen and ten-foot-high ceilings with crown molding.”
Quint chuckled.
Kaitlyn eyed him. “Did I tell a joke? What's funny?
You see Kevin Hart somewhere?” she asked, pretending to look around her.
“You know, the answer to getting everything you want is real simple,” he said.
“Oh yeah? What, Mr. Know-It-All?” she asked.
“Get a job, Kaitlyn,” Quint said. “Get a
J-O-B
and pay to play.”
Kaitlyn frowned at him. “Good night,” she said, dismissing him.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Not speak to my parents until they understand the injustice they have put upon me,” she answered, pressing her slender hand to her chest.
“Kaitlyn,” Quint said gently. “You're willing to turn your back on family for money. Because that is what you're doing.”
“No, I'm not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I'm not.”
“A'ight,” he said, holding up his hands as he briefly held up his square shoulders. “Look, I originally wanted you to let me know what-all you need for the sleepover. I can pick it up when I go to town in the morning.”
Kaitlyn was happy for the change of subject. “I can do a list. I'll have it for you in the morning. I can tell you, lots and lots of snacks. A few movies. Maybe a karaoke machine. I have plenty of makeup and nail polish for them to play with.”
“She's twelve.”
Kaitlyn eyed him. “Quinton, I'm not taking Lei and her friends out for a ho stroll and putting them out to work. They'll be right here in my apartment.”
“That's my baby girl,” he explained.
“And she's beautiful and becoming a young lady,”
Kaitlyn said, gently guiding Quint toward the door. “Boys are gonna sniff around her, regardless if you keep her in sneakers and jeans or not. Thing is to teach her not to fall for their shit, and I can help with that . . . as you know.”
Quinton paused to look at her. “Ha-ha, funny.”
Kaitlyn smiled. “You know, you really should just unass a card and let
me
take Lei to the store.”
Quint laughed out loud. “No offense, but I am not turning
you
loose with my card,” he said dryly.
Kaitlyn opened her front door. “Good night to you and your wack joke. I'll have the list for you in the morning.”
Quint turned suddenly and their bodies slightly touched. “Thanks again, and good night, Kaitlyn.”
Her heart beat erratically as she closed the door on him and his overwhelming presence.
 
 
In the days that followed, Quinton couldn't deny that his daughter was excited and happy about her pajama party. Now, instead of talking about Kaitlyn all the time, she filled his brain with every one of her friends who promised they were coming. Quint was happy to see her happy. Lei meant everything to him.
And that was why he kept peeling off the cash to give Kaitlyn as she put her all into making sure Lei's party was “
the
perfect sleepover jammy jam”—whatever that meant.
That morning, as soon as Lei left for school, he used a dolly and a lot of sweat and muscle to take her armoire into her bedroom. He positioned it in the empty corner where her dollhouse once sat. He stood back to watch his handiwork.
It was large enough with plenty of shelves to hold whatever she wanted, but not too big to overpower the room. He even relented and followed his initial idea to install a lock and skeleton key. Just a little privacy for a new teenager.
My little girl is growing up,
Quinton thought, remembering the day she was born and how proud he felt as he held her for the first time. How much he wanted to be a better father for her than his had been for him.
Her first steps.
The first time she called him “Dada.”
Her first day of school.
Even the appearance of her menstrual cycle last year.
He shook his head at how much that shook him, but they got through it together—and a trip to her pediatrician's office for a nice chat with the nurse about her new feminine responsibilities helped a lot.
Quint picked up the brightly wrapped gifts from where he set them on her bed earlier and slid them inside the armoire and locked it, leaving the key in the lock. Her birthday wasn't until that Sunday; but with her sleepover that Friday night, he decided to give her most of her gifts early.
Glancing at the time on his cell phone, Quint left her room and then their apartment. He climbed into his Ford pickup and reversed out of his parking spot. He hit his brakes at the sight of Kaitlyn already up and tying dozens of pink and silver Happy Birthday balloons to the railings.
He fixed his eyes on her face and found it squinted in intense concentration to be cute as hell. The friends Lei invited were catching the school bus to the complex with her; and Kaitlyn obviously wanted everything ready for them. He couldn't deny that she really seemed to like Lei and that earned her his respect.
He put his truck in park and climbed out of the vehicle. “You need any help right now?” he called up to her.
Kaitlyn looked up and then down at him. She smiled brightly.
The sight of it warmed him more than the summer sun could.
“I might move my sofa into the guest bedroom to make more room for the sleeping bags,” she said.
“I gotta make a quick run and I'll come right up,” he told her.
“Going to see a
friend
?” she asked, winking.
Quint just smiled and climbed back into the pickup. Even though both agreed that they couldn't act on their chemistry, nothing about the way they excited each other had weakened. In fact, it had seemed to intensify. Something about wanting someone so close, but not being able to have that person, made the desire crazy intense.
And it didn't help that they often found themselves flirting a little or sharing long looks, or they caught the other enjoying certain body parts too tempting to ignore.
There had been many a night he would wake up from a dream that she had dominated, or it was even worse when he would lose focus on a project and realize he had been thinking about Kaitlyn.
Something she said that was funny.
Something she did that baffled the hell out of him.
With each passing day it could be either of the two or both. There were many, many moments he swung between wanting to swat her bottom, like she was a misbehaving child, or kiss her like the woman she very clearly was.
Turning off the main road, he decided to take the back roads or side streets to Walterboro. As he passed Joni's house, he shook his head at the sight of the car pulled up close behind hers. She had texted him a few times, inviting him to come and give “it” to her, but he never responded.
Something about her nonchalance at him not going through with the sex threw him off. It made him think maybe she wasn't all there. He hadn't wanted the drama of an argument, but for a woman not to even question why was odd to him.
So he wished her and her new lover well—
if
he was all that new.
His cell phone vibrated on his hip and he reached for it as he pulled to a stop sign. He felt annoyance at seeing his ex-wife's number. Answering the call, he ignored the car behind him blowing its horn. He lowered his window and waved his arm for them to go around him. “Listen, Vita. We've been over for years. I don't ask you for any financial help for our daughter. There is no emergency with her on this end. Lei has her own cell phone for you to call her. There is no reason for us to talk,” he said, completely sick of her and her drama.
The line remained quiet.
He frowned. “Vita?” he said.
Still nothing.
Beep.
Suddenly the call ended.
Quint tossed the phone on his passenger seat before checking for oncoming traffic as he slowly eased the Ford F-250 around the corner. He had a feeling that his ex-wife was up to her old tricks, and she had her old boy on the prowl for evidence.
Not his problem.
The last person Mr. Hawaii needed to be worried about was Quint. He and Vita lived thousands of miles apart. They were divorced—at his doing. And he wouldn't make love to his ex-wife again, even if she were blessed with a brand-new vagina.
Somebody tagging that ass, but it ain't me, brah.
He pulled his vehicle onto the paved drive of his brick home. Before he hopped out to start his quarterly inspection of the two-story brick home and half an acre of land, he allowed himself a moment to miss it. He didn't get sentimental over many things, but outside of Lei this house was a major accomplishment.
When he decided to end his marriage, he had made the choice to let Vita and Lei remain in their home. He took nothing but his clothes and moved into his own apartment. By the time a year rolled by, and the divorce was final, he had saved enough money to put a down payment on his own house. Outside of regular child support and the barest of living expenses, he saved every cent he could.
BOOK: Red Hot
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