The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [53]
Carter looked at her with a “quit bullshitting” expression on his face, but was flattered by her attempt to impress him. He took a seat at the table, and they enjoyed the food and drank an entire bottle of champagne together.
They laughed and chatted like old friends, getting to know each other better, both of them hiding secrets that they couldn’t tell if they wanted to.
After they ate, Carter removed her plate from in front of her and took it into the kitchen along with his own. “Yo, Mia, where your garbage?” he yelled.
“It’s in the kitchen closet!” she yelled back. As soon as the words left her mouth, she hopped up out of her seat. “Wait!” As soon as she walked into her kitchen, she saw Carter standing with the food delivery bags in his hands and a smile on his face.
“Homemade, huh?”
“I never said homemade. Those were not my exact words,” she defended playfully, knowing she had just been busted.
Carter put the bags down and wrapped his arms around her waist. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know how to cook, ma. We’ll hire a chef.”
Miamor laughed sweetly as she hid her face in his chest from embarrassment.
He lifted her face and kissed her lips gently. “I had a good time with you. I haven’t been this comfortable with a woman in a long time.”
“Good.” She tiptoed and kissed his lips again. She could feel the night coming to an end and wished she could turn back the hands of time and relive the last few hours again.
“I’ve got to go,” he stated. He noticed her eyes go from happy to sad in a split second.
Miamor nodded. “Don’t make me wait another two weeks before you show your face again.” She looked him in the eye seriously.
“Don’t worry, ma, I won’t,” he replied as he walked into the room and gathered his clothes.
Miamor walked him to the door, and although she hated to see him go, she didn’t protest. She didn’t want to seem desperate, and she definitely didn’t want to scare him off by being to clingy. She stood hugging her door as he walked out.
Carter kissed her forehead and said, “Close this door and lock it behind me.”
“I will.” Miamor waved one last time. She closed the door and locked it just as he had instructed then she leaned up against it, sighing deeply.
Carter. Carter Jones. He had a hood swagger, a gentlemen’s finesse, and a businessman’s savvy. He had her attention, and she couldn’t wait to see him again.
The next morning, Miamor awoke to the sound of someone knocking at her door. No one beside her friends and now Carter knew where she lay her head, so she figured that it had to be one of those people. She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall. Damn it! It’s only 9:00 in the morning. Who the fuck is this banging at my shit like they fucking crazy?
She pulled herself out of her bed and went to answer it. Looking out of the peephole, she saw three people standing at her door. What the fuck is going on? She snatched the door open in irritation. “Can I help you?” she asked.
Miamor noticed that the woman before her held a white chef’s hat in her hand, and she frowned in confusion.
“A Mr. Carter Jones has requested our services. He has contracted us to be at your service whenever you call,” the woman explained.
Miamor couldn’t help but smile. “So you are my personal chef?”
“Yes. We’ll make you whatever you want at any time of the day. All you have to do is call,” the woman stated with a friendly smile.
Miamor shook her head in disbelief and then stepped to the side as she let the woman and her two-man team into her place. This nigga is too much, she thought.
“I’m Rachel, by the way,” the woman said as she extended her hand.
“Miamor,” she responded as she shook the friendly woman’s hand. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, her cell phone rang. She rummaged through her Hermes bag until she located it. “Hello.”
“I just wanted to see if I could stop by for breakfast.”
The sound of Carter