Page 227 of Kentrell

“What I tell you?” Kentrell said, and I heard his turn signal clicking through the phone speaker as he glanced away from the screen.

I rolled my eyes, already knowing where this was going. He’d warned me last night—right after round two of us thoroughly wearing each other out—not to go back and scoop more pasta from the cold tray that’d been sitting out since seven.

“I needed something on my stomach,” I argued, cutting my eyes at the camera just as he peered down with a low chuckle.

“You was tryna keep up and tapped out anyway,” he reminded me, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

I felt my cheeks heat instantly. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“That’s exactly how it went,” he said, laughing. “That’s why you calling me now, in your feelings, ‘cause you slept through your goodbye kiss.”

I placed a dramatic hand to my chest. “Oh, so it’s my fault now? It’s my job to wake myself up and collect my kiss?”

“Pretty much.” He smirked like he’d just won a case.

“Okay…” I said slowly, giving him a look that clearly saidnoted.

His grin deepened. “Man, shut up. You ain’t withholding nothing. I know you better than that.”

My mouth dropped open. “Wow. You really think I don’t have it in me?”

“I know you don’t,” he said without hesitation. “Matter fact…” He glanced toward the road, shifting into the turning lane. “Lemme turn this car around?—”

“Kentrell!” I squealed, my eyes widening as I watched him signaling like he really meant it.

“Nah. Have that ass ready when I get back,” he said low, making my whole body flush on cue.

I’m always ready…I thought, biting my lip.

“Nah, naked, legs open, on top of the covers,” he added, grinning as my laugh burst out loud and unfiltered.

“Shut up, Kentrell,” I giggled, shaking my head as he smirked like he had all day to play with me.

Then his mood shifted. “Man, what the fuck…” His head turned, looking out the driver’s side window. “They ass outside with it,” he muttered, followed by a few choice curse words under his breath.

Curious, I tilted my head.

“Nah, mufuckas gotta get out with that shit,” he groaned, flipping the camera to show me what he was seeing.

The screen filled with a chaotic scene: a tall, skinny dude in sweats and a matching zip-up jacket, standing in the middle of the sidewalk arguing with a woman in pajama pants, a small puffer coat, and a bonnet. On her hip, she balanced a toddler with half-done puffs and a fleece onesie, while she hurled a black garbage bag toward him like she was serving eviction papers, DIY-style.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, covering my mouth. “She needs to take that baby back in the house!”

“This shit not even worth a fuckin’ audience,” Kentrell muttered, flipping the camera back to his face, wearing the most unimpressed expression I’d seen all week.

I twisted my lips, catching the loaded pause in his voice—the unspokendo something, Attorney Davis.

“I’ll forward your tenant history to Fatima and she’ll take care of it,” I offered smoothly, sliding into lawyer mode.

“Nah. Hell nah.” He cut me off before I could finish the thought. “You not passing me off to nobody.”

“She’s been handling a few of my clients since I’ve been gone…” I said, confused why this was even an issue. If he wanted this resolved fast, Fatima was already on deck, closer to the courts, and surrounded by the right resources.

“I’on care what she do. I’m not her client.”

“We can share,” I teased, still half-focused on the scene playing out behind him.

“You not sharing me.” He dragged the words out, slow and low, making my stomach dip in a way that had nothing to do with shrimp. “You heard what I said.”

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