Page 30 of The Prettiest Outlaw

I hesitated. “I mean, I could. But it would take a lot more work. It’s better to do it here. You want me to come scoop you?”

“I guess so,” she said with a sigh. “If you’re about to do something to me that’s going to make me sleepy, I probably shouldn’t be on the roads.”

“True. Pack a small bag.”

“A spend-the-night bag? Bro!”

I laughed heartily. “Not a spend-the-night bag, lil bit. But you might end up spending the night.”

“And this is not about sex?”

“Nah. This is about helping you relax, shut down your brain, and possibly get a good night’s rest.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t believe you.”

I laughed again. “Okay. Okay. When people get relaxed and let themselves go, sometimes their inhibitions lower as well. Dicks get hard, pussies get wet, but that’s just biology. That’s not the goal. I’mma do my best to stand on business and keep my dick to myself. I’m trying to be a friend here.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “How soon should I be ready?”

* * *

About an hour or so later, I arrived back at my place with Julianna in tow. I parked in the driveway then walked around and opened the car door for her.

“Wow.” She looked up at the edifice of my home. “Okay, first of all, I was expecting a high-rise building either in the middle of Downtown or on the Northside. You know? A condo in the sky?”

“Yeah, I’ve lived that lifestyle.” I led her up the walkway to the front door. “I had the view of Lake Michigan, the door man, and the assigned parking spot. The place had a swimming pool, a gym, and even a grocery store on site. When I hit my thirties, I decided that I wanted something different. I had just purchased this house. It was supposed to be an investment property, a quick flip with a few cosmetic touches and a few updates. The more I thought about the location and the bones of the house, the more it seemed like something to consider.” I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and motioned for her to step inside the foyer.

“Oh, okay. You have a grown man’s house, Nico. Now, how old did you say you were? You’re the second-oldest Hill brother. I know that Dolton is thirty-six because he’s two years older than Jianna. So, you’re older than thirty-six but younger than Dominic, who’s probably forty.”

I chuckled. “I’m thirty-eight. What makes you say that I have a grown man’s house?”

“The fact that you have real furniture.” She handed me her coat, then worked her way out of her shoes before running a hand lightly over the console table that sat beside the shoe rack. She walked deeper into my home. “You have a real sofa—a Chesterfield, not a futon or something. You spent real money on that.” She caught my eye as she looked over her shoulder, giving me an approving glance.

“This ain’t my first rodeo, lil bit. I’ve furnished a place with furniture from IKEA. I was ready to do something different.”

“Well, I like it,” she assured me. “I like the color scheme and the entire vibe. It kinda reminds me of Dolton’s house, the one he had before he married Jianna. It was warm and inviting.”

I grinned at her. “Thanks. Let me show you where we’re gonna be.”

My home was a four-bedroom, two-and-half-bath Craftsman home with two stories. We stayed on the first floor, where I had an extra room that was probably meant for guests. Since any overnight guests that I entertained usually slept in my bedroom, I didn’t have use for a guestroom. I led Julianna to the doorway of the room.

She slowly stepped inside, taking in the sight before her. The room was dark and moody with walls that were painted a deep charcoal, and the dark hardwood floors were covered with a plush black rug. The ambient lighting was provided by an artistic chandelier overhead and strategically placed unscented candles and spotlights. Oversized plants and trees sat in each corner. And in the middle of the room sat a sumptuous and lush massage table.

“It’s a massage room, and it’s gorgeous.” Julianna walked around the space, a faint smile on her face.

“Thank you. It was designed by a girl I was dating at the time. She was in design school, and she did this room as her final project.”

“She did a good job.” She ran her hand along the fleece table cover before turning her attention on me. “You give massages, Nico?”

“I do.”

“How’d you get into that?” She started coming out of her hoodie.

“That’s a long story, lil bit.”

“Are you like…certified and licensed?” She placed her hoodie on the massage chair and worked on shrugging out of her t-shirt.

“I am. I can legally operate in the state of Illinois.” I gave her a smirk.

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