Page 23 of The Prettiest Outlaw

By the timeI finished loading my truck with everything I needed to take with me to make the cookies, I honestly considered if it was even worth it. I decided it was, set the GPS on my phone, attached my phone to the holder, and started the almost hour-long drive to the address he gave me.

I pulled into the driveway of a white house with a deep wrap-around front porch that looked like it had been there forever, but at the same time, it was clearly modern and new. As I stared up at the edifice, Nico pulled into the driveway. He parked his truck next to mine and swung open the door. I found myself staring at his Timberland boots and long, jean-clad legs. Then my eyes moved up to the leather bomber jacket and finally to his face. All of the Hill men were handsome from Briscoe Hill all the way down to Drew Hill, one of the four-year-old twins that Dominic and Brittanie were raising as their own. Domenico was absolutely no exception.

Nico had a fair complexion with a slight smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His expressive brown eyes were encircled by long, curly eyelashes with thick, bushy eyebrows. His lips were full but not pouty. There was just enough lip meat to let me know that his face surely made a very comfortable seat for some lucky young lady. If I was still in my roster-curating phase, he would most definitely sit at the top of my list.

He returned my gaze, but he added a little smolder to his. We kept it up for a few additional seconds before he broke eye contact by looking up at the sky and chuckling.

“Why are you looking at me like that, lil bit?”

“Like what?” It was a natural response. I wasn’t confused. I definitely knew what he meant.

“You know like what. Like you’re trying to go in this crib and get something started. Langston looks at you like a little sister. That ain’t my testimony. I do more than bake cookies, shorty. I eat them motherfuckers like the cookie monster, and I knock the lining outta them, too. I’mma ask you again. Why are you looking at me like that?”

I had to appreciate a man that spoke his mind. My daddy had always been the same exact way. So, I spoke mine back to him.

“You’re very attractive, Nico. I was admiring you…and I was thinking that if I was still curating rosters, I would want you on mine.”

He nodded slowly, as his eyes moved at the same lazy speed over every inch of me.

“You couldn’t go there with me. I’m…troubled. Dealing with me requires you to understand the trifecta—I’m selfish, stingy, and possessive. I would only ever be content on a roster of one.”

“Well, hell. That sounds perfect,” I muttered to myself.

“I heard that. Pop your trunk, and let’s get this stuff in the house before you get something started.”

* * *

The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside of the house. Well, what I saw of the house was beautiful. I only saw the lower level, though. We entered the house, and he led me directly to the kitchen. I didn’t ask for a tour or anything because I really wanted to get started with the cookies. There were so many to bake.

“So, you’re cool with the owner of this house?” I questioned as I started to unpack the bags.

“I’m the owner of this house, me and Donovan. We like to invest in real estate?—”

“Way out here? This is over an hour outside of the city.”

“Yeah. We usually look for the best deals. We’re not that concerned about the location. I mean, we don’t plan to live in the homes, except Donovan’s fiancée fell in love with this one. It was going to be theirs.”

“But she passed away, right? I hated to hear that. How’s he doing?”

“Umm…not good.”

“I’m with him,” I said. “I’m not doing good either. I miss my daddy every single day.”

I grabbed the hand soap that I brought with me, went over to the sink, and washed my hands. Nico did the same.

“Okay, so I’ll make the dough. I was gonna be all fancy and make a few different doughs, but nah. I’m gonna make a basic sugar cookie recipe. I’ll need to do a test batch…or maybe two test batches because I’m not familiar with the ovens. You wanna be on mixing dough or cutting out cookies?”

“Cutting out cookies. I’m not trying to mess with the dough. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

I got to work mixing up the first batch of dough.

“Do you plan to do anything with your new baking skills, or is this just a hobby for you?” Nico asked, as he went through the different cookie cutters I brought with me.

“At first, I thought it was just a hobby. My mother calls me a…start-stopper. I’m notorious in my family for being really excited about something, investing money, time, and energy into it and then being bored with it two weeks later. I’ve tried so many things, and nothing has held my interest. I just presumed that baking would be the same, only it wasn’t. I’m really into it.”

“You thinking bakery?”

I shook my head. “I’m not that responsible, Nico. Maybe a website. Maybe I could do pop-up shops. How’d you decide to open your shop? How did you know you had the discipline? The self-control?”

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