Page 6 of Dima
“I’m sure he does.”
“Can I ask you something, Uncle Guard?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Was my father always the way he is now?”
“I think you know the answer to that question, little one. Your father is who he is now because the circumstances of life made him that way. Losing your mother was the worst thing that could have happened to any of us, but especially Bishop. Grief is a tricky thing to navigate, but when he’s with you, I can almost see that side of him again.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.” I stopped walking before I finished what I was going to say. “I’m going to go check on my Jeep.”
“Okay, but keep your attention on the Jeep only. I know these niggas ain’t stupid, but I would hate for you to get one of them killed.”
I laughed at Guard instead of replying because I knew he was serious. He was just as protective of me as my dad was, and I appreciated him for that. I could feel eyes on me as I walked back toward the porch, crossed the yard, and walked toward the garage.
As Guard said, none of them were stupid, so they could look, but none of the men in Durty Boyz would ever try me. My father had the tightest grip that he could ever have on me. I had trouble even dating at school, but around here, these men would not even let my father catch them looking. I was sure that by the time Guard made it back to that porch, their eyes would be pointed in a different direction.
“What’s the verdict?”
I spoke more to the air than to the new guy since he was already underneath my Jeep. To me, he looked like any other thug my dad had working for him, so of course, I was unimpressed, but when he slid from underneath the Jeep and stood, I had to take a pause.
Being so close to him gave me the opportunity to appreciate his features that I hadn’t noticed from the porch. He closed the space between us as he used a rag to wipe the oil from his hands. Instead of avoiding my gaze like most of the Durty Boyz, he looked me straight in the eye without faltering.
“You need new tires, a front-end alignment, and an oil change. If you would’ve rode around like that any longer, you would have blew the motor on this thing.”
“Can you handle all of that, or do I need to take it to a real shop?”
I didn’t know why I was snappy, but being so close to him had me on defense. I stepped back to put at least a few inches between us, and he smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve.
“I can handle anything you got, princess.”
He put an emphasis on the nickname my uncle had just called me. I had never taken it as an insult until now, but that was exactly what it was, coming from his mouth.
“We will see. I don’t have anywhere else to be. I think I’ll sit here and do my work.”
“Be my guest.”
I adjusted my bag on my back before finding the nearest seat. He had some nerve talking to me the way he did. I had to admit I was unimpressed when I first saw him on the porch with all the other men, but now, I was at the very least intrigued. Most Durty Boyz were scared to even meet my gaze, let alone hold eye contact and talk to me the way Dima had. His courage had to count for something.
“Be my guest.”
I licked my lips as soon as the words left my mouth. It was the only reaction a man could have to a woman like Maeve. Saying she was beautiful would never do her justice. She was otherworldly.
Her small frame looked easy to toss around. Although she was on the slim side, she had a little thickness where it mattered. I watched her ass bounce as she sauntered around me like I was nobody. I kept my eyes on Maeve as she pulled her bag further on her back and searched around the dirty garage for a spot to sit.
“Let me clean off a spot for you.”
I rushed in front of her to prepare a place for her to sit. She was, after all, the boss’s daughter. If I wanted to get close enough to him to take him down, I had to get creative. She seemed like the perfect place to start, no matter how much of a spoiled brat she seemed to be.
“Thank you.”
She stepped closer while I cleaned the stool in front of the workbench I’d been sitting at earlier. Whatever scent she wore was light and airy, like vanilla, strumming through my nostrils.
She smelled so good.
Sweet.
Soft.
