Duhani & Versai: A Miller's Pointe Christmas by B. Kennedy

Author:B., Kennedy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KMP
Published: 2023-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

For the first few minutes of our ride he was quiet, just allowing the music to flow between the two of us, until he turned it down and glanced in my direction.

“You quiet,” he said.

“Just thinking. My bad, I ju⁠—”

“About what?” he quizzed, peering in my direction momentarily before focusing back on the road.

“Nothing in particular, everything. Too much.”

He laughed. “Say what, lil one?” I had thoroughly confused him.

I cackled. “Lotta overthinking, how was your day today?”

“Long. Did a lot of chores. Maintaining space and getting ready for the new edition to the ranch.”

“Hmm, what are you getting?”

“Few cattle,” he answered simply.

“Sounds exciting, when do you get them?”

“The twenty-fourth. Thought you didn’t care for ranch duties.” I felt his eyes again as I looked out of the window.

“I don’t, but I like the animals. How is Linda and her baby? Did you name him?”

“Her foal?” he corrected. “I don’t name them when they ain’t mine. Don’t really keep the boys.”

“Why, he’s going to be beautiful.”

“Probably.” He shrugged.

We pulled up to his home a little while later. He turned the car off and turned in my direction. “I planned on taking you to the mountains, but daylight is gone in a few, so I fig⁠—”

“No explanation necessary. Just as long as you’re feeding me.”

He chuckled, then got out of the car and came around to my side. By the time he reached the door, I already had it open and had hopped down onto the ground.

“My mama told me it was a sin for women to open their own doors, yet you keep opening yours.”

I laughed. “Been opening it my whole life.”

“Probably, but not ’round me.” Then he grabbed my hand and led me up the little ways to his porch. I had never been a hand holding type of girl, but I liked holding his hand and the way my hand kind of fit in his; it didn’t feel weird or odd. He didn’t have bitch hands. His hands were massive and masculine. Working man hands, the type I had straight to the gutter thoughts about.

When we entered his home, he let my hand go to lock the door behind us before going around the room to cut the lights on. With the lights on, I followed him with my eyes as he took his jacket off, hanging it on the hook near the door then beelined for the kitchen.

Duhani was probably the finest man I had ever seen, no exaggeration. His skin was the richest shade of toffee and smooth as anything I’d ever seen. Not a blotch or blemish lived on him because he was as close to perfection as possible. Then he had these deep set, auburn eyes that always seemed serious until he cracked a smile, showcasing those beautiful perfect white teeth. His hair was cut low, lining looked like a city nigga did it and his waves looked like they were from Belharra. Deepest waves I’d ever seen on a cowboy in my life.

“What you want, lil one? Burger and steak fries?” he quizzed.

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