Page 4 of No Gemini Does it Better (BLP Signs of Love #2)

“Attention passengers of flight A-C-two-four-five-nine to Miami. We have just been informed by air traffic control that all outbound flights have been canceled due to the current weather conditions in and around the city. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and are here to help you reschedule once the storm subsides. Thank you for your patience and understanding and for flying with Omega Airlines,” the uniformed female airline worker announced from behind the information desk.

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening,” I grumbled.

After hearing her announcement, I raced over to the large digital monitors displaying flight departure and arrival times.

She was right. Everything had been canceled.

I stood in the long line filled with aggravated passengers who wanted to figure out how to defy Mother Nature and get to wherever the hell they wanted to go.

I didn’t blame them. Hell, I was one of them.

I tried to get the fuck out of Jacksonville for once and kick it with my girls, whom I hadn’t seen since I traveled to Georgia for a Friendsgiving at Kaneesha’s new place last November.

I’d managed to find time to do everything I needed to do to prepare for my trip.

I took a day off from work to get my hair braided and visit the salon for a much-needed waxing from head to toe, along with a quick French manicure and pedicure.

I’d even convinced my neighbor to come over and walk Butta and make sure he had enough food and water in his bowls while I was away for two days.

Taking time off work was something I rarely did, given the always-demanding nature of my workload, let alone taking an actual vacation.

I’d been drowning in paperwork and appeals and cases for months, and I was ready to break free, if only for a couple of days.

I needed this girls’ trip in more ways than one, and Mother Nature was fucking with me.

The line seemed to inch forward half a step every fifteen minutes. While I waited to find out more information, I whipped out my phone and hit the group chat to deliver the bad news.

Me:

Y’all! My flight just got canceled because of this stupid ass tropical storm.

Neesh:

Shit. It ain’t no tropical storm anymore, girl. My flight from Georgia just had to turn around and do an emergency landing. They’re saying it’s a full-blown hurricane, and it’s only going to get worse.

Brit:

I didn’t even make it to the airport before they canceled my flight.

Me:

How is it in Tampa right now, Brit?

Brit:

Raining its ass off for the most part. I’m about to run out and try and grab some last-minute supplies before it starts to flood.

Neesh:

Y’all Floridians stay safe out there.

Me:

I REALLY needed this Fourth of July trip to be a thing. We haven’t all gotten together since Thanksgiving.

Brit:

Please don’t bring that up. I still can’t get the taste of Neesh’s burnt-ass turkey out of my mouth.

Neesh:

Shut the fuck up! It was Cajun-style, bitch!

The three of us continued to send GIFs and laughing emojis to each other while reminiscing. It brought a smile to my face, even though I’d be cooped up in the house watching the rain pour when I could’ve been on somebody’s beach or under somebody’s fine-ass son.

I wasn’t the type to let my hair down or let my wild side take over too often, but if the right man happened to come along while I was chilling on the beach or at the bar, I was open to seeing where the night took us.

Quiet as it was kept, I hadn’t had sex in over six months.

Most days, I was so preoccupied with work that a nice, thick dick with a lil curve was the last thing on my mind.

Besides, as long as my rose vibrator didn’t kick out on me any time soon, I’d be all right.

After finally making my way to the front of the line and being instructed on where to find my checked bag, I headed toward baggage claim with the hundreds of other people trying to get home.

Of course, traffic was a nightmare. Between the gridlocked congestion of cars trying to get out of the airport and the rain pelting the ground so hard that it started to flood, my anxiety was on ten.

Being alone with no plans on the fourth took celebrating my independence to a whole other level, and I was dreading going back home to face an empty apartment. At least I had Butta.

Shit, Butta.

He hated storms, and if the power ended up going out, I’d need candles and extra dog treats to console him.

I decided to stop at the grocery store, a couple of miles away from my apartment, to pick up some doggie treats, extra batteries, and candles.

I wasn’t a Florida baby, but after being a resident for over five years, I’d become accustomed to the storms. They were hardly ever as bad as the weather report made them out to be, even if my windshield wipers were on the highest setting right now.

Relax, Sawyer. We haven’t gotten hit with anything terrible in a couple of years, anyway. This will all be over soon.

My phone began to vibrate in the center console, snapping me out of my intrusive thoughts.

The first thing I noticed was the picture of my older sister, Soleil, and me from last Christmas on my phone screen.

We were wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters and red Rudolph noses and sticking our tongues out at the camera like a couple of unruly teenagers.

The second thing I noticed was that my phone was on ten percent. I’d packed my charger in my checked bag, which was in the trunk, and didn’t have the spare one I usually kept in my car. The GPS was draining it faster by the second, and I was still a couple of miles away from the store.

Oh well, it’s right down the road from my house anyway. This will be quick.

I turned off the GPS before answering Soleil’s call. I knew if I didn’t, she would start blowing me up over and over again until I did.

“Can’t talk right now. Driving through a monsoon,” I said when I connected the call.

The sky was black, and my windshield wipers were going the maximum speed, barely swishing water out of my sight line, so I didn’t feel like I was technically lying.

The sound of her smacking her teeth echoed through my car speakers.

“Why the hell are you driving in a monsoon, Sawyer? You should be in the house! Haven’t you seen the news? ”

“I heard all about this damn hurricane, trust me,” I replied with a serious eye roll.

“Let me guess . . . They canceled your flight?”

“Sure did,” I replied with a heavy sigh. “Of all weekends to have a freaking hurricane hit Florida, it had to come on Fourth of July weekend?”

“Mother Nature doesn’t answer to any of us.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that,” I replied dryly.

“Sorry about your girls’ trip, Sawyer.”

I huffed. “Me too. I really needed to unwind,” I vented. “Who knows when I’ll be able to schedule something like this again. You know my job is crazy.”

“Yeah, I do. Where are you anyway?”

“I’m about to be at the store.”

“The store? For what?”

“Treats for Butta,” I answered.

“Oh my God! You and that damn dog. I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a nigga and have a baby since you wanna take care of shit so bad.”

“Ay, now. Not too much on your nephew, aight?”

“All I’m saying is?—”

I cut her off. “La, la, la. I don’t care what you say.” I blabbered over her, tuning her completely out.

“Whatever. I hope your big toe starts itching, and you can’t even scratch it.”

I smacked my full lips together. “You’re literally the corniest person I know.”

“Wow, what an honor. Thank you.”

“But for real, Sol. I can’t believe you said that. Now what if my toe starts itching and I wreck because I don’t like being an itchy ass bitch and gotta scratch it. Your life would be worthless without me.”

She blew a raspberry through the phone, mocking me. “See, you almost had me feeling bad for a second there, but now I don’t. Bring on the itching, bitch.”

“Whatever.”

“No, but seriously, be safe out there on those roads, Sawyer. I’m not playing with you.”

“I’m twenty-seven years old, and you’re still treating me like I’m sixteen or something. I’ve lived here for years now. I know how to drive in the rain.”

“From what I hear tap dancing on your roof, that ain’t no normal rain shower.”

“Girl, please. We both know I’m God’s favorite. I’m going to be fine. It’s just a little, well, it’s a lot of rain, but still. I’ll be straight. I’ll be at the store up the road from my place in like three minutes. And my phone is on like six percent right now.”

“Seriously? At a time like this? Where the hell is your charger?”

“In the trunk,” I admitted.

“That’s a fantastic place for it to be,” she replied, tone laced with sarcasm.

“Shut up.”

“Okay. Well, call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“You already know I’m safe, Soleil. I’m about to run into the store, get my Butta Bean some yummy snacks, and I’ll be back home in a jiffy—end of story. I’ll be fine,” I repeated like a mantra for the hundredth time.

“Don’t you be speeding either, or I’ma call Mama!”

I rolled my eyes. “You so damn petty.”

“Yo’ mama.”

“Bitch, she yo’ mama too, so what sense does that make? Dummy. Get off my line, peasant. Love you. Bye.” I giggled.

“Love you too.”

But before I got to hang up myself, my phone died. “Shit. I gotta make this the quickest trip in history,” I muttered before swinging into the first available parking spot I found in the lot and jetting into the store.

“Butta?” I called out as soon as I opened the door to my apartment. “Butta Bean, where are you, boy? Mommy’s back!” I continued before flicking the light switch.

The minute the room illuminated, all the color left my face, and my pulse escalated to a level I knew was unsafe. Sitting in the middle of my couch was the most handsome, dark chocolate creature I’d ever seen, and he was as naked as the day he was born.