like smooth milk chocolate, and the most gorgeous ebony eyes he’d ever seen in his entire life. They were large and slanted, the lashes thick and lush and absolute perfection. Her hair was a jet-black mass of shiny curls and her lips were full with a slight gloss, and looked soft as silk. So alluring…
He remembered all the details. That gorgeous head was attached to a slender yet curvy-in-the-all-the-right-places body. She was wearing a red V-neck top with dark pants, and her cleavage had given him more than an eyeful. She stood about 5’7, and when he’d leaned over that counter, the scent of lavender and cantaloupes had filled his nostrils.
Definitely not the old lady he’d expected would run such an establishment, a retired librarian with thick glasses and gray hair pulled up in a disheveled bun getting her second wind in life. Nope. What he’d been faced with was a resting-bitch-faced Black woman, age thirty-seven according to the records his father kept, who had one of the strangest yet most interesting bookstores he’d ever stepped into. It was neat and organized, yet bursting with vibrant colors and plants in enormous planters. The walls that weren’t brick were covered floor to ceiling with detailed murals. Some featured diverse crowds of people playing musical instruments in a parade, while others depicted a game of chess in progress, children reading books on a bench, and even a woman riding a black dragon over a forest, her arms open wide and a grand smile on her face.
“She’s not what I expected,” he murmured before getting to his feet to fetch another beer from the refrigerator.
“Who’s not what you expected?” Aiden came bouncing into the kitchen, his bright blue eyes catching the refrigerator light. He opened a cabinet where they kept his favorite cereals.
“Nobody. Did you finish your homework?” He grabbed the new beer and stared at his son, his face looking so angelic.
“Yes, Dad,” the boy said dryly, then turned away. Aiden’s head was a messy mass of dark brown waves, and he could just imagine the kid rolling his eyes right then.
“Good. I wanna see it.”
“Awww, Dad! Come on!”
“Aiden, I’m not in the mood for your mess tonight. If you did it then it isn’t a problem.”
“But I did already do it.” He threw on a miserable look, both wretchedness and annoyance stamped across his face. “Can you turn up the air?” The boy swiped at his brow with the back of his arm. “It’s too hot in here.”
“Not as hot as it’s gonna be if you don’t bring me that homework.”
“But dad, Kayden is waiting on me to play League of Legends! I just came in here to get somethin’ to eat.”
“Bring that damn homework out here right now. End of discussion.” Aries slammed the refrigerator door while his son stood there, swallowing words that would forever be left unspoken while holding onto a box of Cookie Crisp. Aiden banged the box on the counter as if it too had offended him, then huffed and stormed off, mumbling incoherently.
Aries took a deep breath. With each day that passed, the more defiant his son became. They’d been bumping heads as of late, and he was certain it had to do with hormones and some shit his mother has shoved into his head during one of her many two-second visits before making more promises she wouldn’t keep.
He shoved the thought of her ass out of his mind and opened his beer. Pacing back and forth, he let his mind run through some strange obstacle course covered in lavender petals and slices of fresh cantaloupes.
Damn that lady smelled good. Even over the strong incense and shit she’d burned, I could smell her… sweet… Reminded me of the valley near my grandmother’s house that she used to take me and Owen to when we were little kids. A lavender field so bright in all those shades of purple… amazing… Over at that old house, Grandma would cut up strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupes and bananas, put ’em in a bowl, and we’d eat up. That produce tasted like candy. Fruit don’t taste that way anymore…
“Here it is.” Aiden slammed a spiral bound green notebook onto the vast kitchen island. Aries had made it himself using slabs of oak wood with a special varnish that had been worth every penny. It looked amazing with the matching oak bar stools – rustic, polished, and eye catching. The ceiling had the same details – all remodeled by him and a