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  Table of Contents

  BWWM: Black Women, White Men Title Page

  Detour by Lauren Battiste

  About Lauren Battiste

  Extremely Personal Trainer by Jeanette Lavia

  About Jeanette Lavia

  Geek Gets the Girl by Carly Katz

  About Carly Katz

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  BWWM:

  Black Women, White Men

  Lauren Battiste * Jeanette Lavia

  Carly Katz

  Copyright © 2013 Steam Books Erotica & Romance

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  DETOUR

  Lauren Battiste

  I couldn’t believe I was going to spend my two week vacation surrounded by people I either barely knew, had nothing in common with or flat out despised.

  But hey, you know what they say – you don’t have to like your family, but you gotta love ‘em. At least, that’s what Grams always taught me.

  She was the sole reason why I made the otherwise poor decision to drive from Chicago, Illinois to Fort Worth, Texas in my twelve year-old sedan with a host of known mechanical problems for the Parker family reunion, where I would be subjected to constant probing about my personal and professional life.

  The Parker family was comprised of affluent, well-to-do African-American professionals in a host of career fields: lawyers, doctors, executives, and so on. If you didn’t follow in those footsteps, even if you had an honest but humble paying career, you were considered a failure.

  When I announced almost ten years ago that I was majoring in education in my freshman year of college, I had the ‘failure’ stamp permanently etched on my forehead from that day forward. No matter what advances I made or promotions I received, I was still hit with the same snide comment time and time again:

  Simone, I see you’re still an elementary school teacher. Any plans to change careers? You know it’s never too late.

  If that wasn’t painful enough, my lack of a steady relationship usually became fodder soon after. I was pushing thirty and had never been in a relationship longer than six months. Some of them thought I was simply too focused on my career – which was mostly true, while the others had a litany of reasons for my singleness.

  The bolder members of our clan would subtly suggest that I was perhaps a lesbian – which, aside from being a ridiculous notion, was furthest from the truth. I was simply focused on being the best educator I could be, and if my love life suffered in the process, so be it. I didn’t need a boyfriend or a partner to validate me, but I had to admit I got lonely at times like everyone else.

  Simone, dear, I hear that those online dating sites work. You’re a nice-looking woman, why don’t you try that? I’m sure someone will want to date you.

  The words echoed in my head and got my blood boiling.

  Why the hell was I putting myself through such torture?

  I sighed and shrugged my shoulders knowingly, answering my own question out loud.

  “Grams.”

  Aside from my parents, who were both out of the country on a tour of Europe, Grams was my pride and joy. She had just turned ninety-two and at that age, I figured it was best to respect your elders and do virtually anything they ask of you – even if you really, really didn’t want to.

  I glanced at the dashboard, noting the time. It was 6:30 in the evening and I had three hours to go before I reached my destination. It was a warm autumn day in Texas, and the stretch of highway I was traveling down virtually empty, save for the occasional passing car or two.

  If I had been driving to at a spa resort instead of being tortured by pompous blowhards, I might have grown to enjoy the non-stop hours of driving on the open road.

  I had my cell phone on me, but oddly enough, no one had called to see if I had made it to Texas or how far I was from Fort Worth, not even Grams. The reunion didn’t officially start until tomorrow; maybe they were too busy preparing for the ‘festivities’ that would take place.

  I decided the swishing sound of the air blowing past my open window was no longer the only acoustic I wanted to hear. I twisted the radio dial and turned up the volume, searching for talk radio. During a few moments of blind searching, I heard the sound of glass being crushed, followed by a loud hissing noise. I knew right away that one of my old, worn out tires was deflating rapidly.

  I had a lingering feeling that my car was going to give out on me. Hell, looking back on it, I probably wanted it to happen.

  I was insured and had roadside assistance, so a simple phone call would have me back on the road in less than an hour. I pulled to the right shoulder, parked and retrieved my cell phone from my purse.

  No wonder I hadn’t received any calls – the phone was dead.

  I pressed the power button, hoping there was just enough juice to make the one phone call. The welcome sequence and chimes played as normal when it powered on, but the screen went dark immediately after.

  “Shit,” I swore and knocked my head against the seat’s head rest.

  I knew exactly where my phone charger was – hundreds of miles away on my kitchen counter. I had a GPS navigational system, which delivered the pleasant message that the nearest town was over thirty minutes away.

  I could either walk for it and brave the elements – be on foot in unfamiliar territory with no protection; wait for some kind soul to stop and pray that they had a cell phone or, not only knew how to change a spare tire, but just happened to have a spare that fit my car perfectly.

  Both were long shots, but there wasn’t a chance that I would travel on foot. I brought a collection of electronic gadgets, including the laptop I used to grade and make assignments for my students. Where I went, it went. I wasn’t going to leave it, nor would I carry it around for a half-hour while venturing into town.

  I had no choice but to wait.

  The fatigue from ten hours of non-stop driving was starting to catch up to me. I kept my eyes open for fifteen minutes, watching and listening for signs of life. I locked my doors, leaned the driver’s seat back and closed my eyes. If I wasn’t leaving anytime soon, the least I could do was get a few minutes of rest.

  ~ ~ ~

  I awoke to the sound of light knocking on my driver’s side window. I was groggy and a bit disoriented when I eyed the clock. 8:00.

  I leaned forward and yawned, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I rolled my window down and rubbed my tired, heavy lids.

  “Evenin’, Ma’am. Need some help?”

  Even in the dark of night, I vividly remember the first time I laid eyes on Matthew Copeland. He had silky, sandy blonde hair and piercing blue irises; a thin nose, though slightly crooked, gave his otherwise flawless face character, and full, pouty lips that lifted in a half-smile.

  I had only seen him from the neck up, but that was all I needed to deem him model gorgeous.

  “I blew a tire on the way to Fort Worth,” I explained, my cheeks warm and flushed. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone on you?”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” He spoke with that Texas southern twang I had a thing for. “No cell. If you’ve got a spare tire, I have a jack in the flatbed. Could change it for ya and get you back on the road.”

  “Ugh.” I shook my head, exasperated. “No spare. I have roadside assistance, I just don’t have a way to call and tell them I’m stuck on a highway in…”

  “Tall Springs,” he nodded.

  “Tall Springs, Texas. Never heard of it.”

  “Don’t see why you would,” he chuckled, chewing on the corner
of his mouth. “Small town.”

  It was just my luck that the one person who stopped had no way of helping me.

  “Well thanks for pulling over and at least trying to help,” I said solemnly. “Have a good night.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ of sleeping in your car on a nearly deserted highway,” he said, crouching next to the window to be eye-level with me. “It ain’t safe.”

  “There’s nothing else I can do,” I shrugged. “I’m not going to walk into town this late. I’ll get some sleep, wait for daylight and then go for it.”

  He shook his head. “As a gentleman, I cannot allow a fine woman to stay out here all by her lonesome,” he said with a smile. “If you’re itchin’ to get goin’ that badly, I can drive you back to my place and let you use my house phone.”

  “Hmm, let’s see,” I said, folding my arms. “Sleep in my car on the highway in the middle of nowhere –“

  “Tall Springs.”

  “Or take a ride from a stranger who claims I can use his phone and the next thing I know, I’m on the side of a milk carton as a missing person.”

  He grinned wide and laughed at me quietly. I would have gotten a little miffed if I hadn’t been distracted by the incredibly deep dimples indenting the sides of his cheeks.

  “Alright,” I relented. “Maybe that was stretching it. Still, you get the point – you’re a stranger.”

  He offered his hand to me.

  “Matthew Copeland. Call me Matt.”

  I waited, staring at his outstretched palm for a moment. Eventually, I gave in and shook his hand.

  “Simone Parker.”

  I studied the hue of his eyes, still captivated with them. God, they were beautiful.

  “Can I… have my hand back?” he grinned.

  I jerked away from him, mentally scolding myself for acting like a smitten pre-teen.

  “So where do you live?” I inquired, clearing my throat.

  “About fifteen minutes back the other way,” he pointed behind him. “Won’t take too long. So what do you say?”

  “I guess you have a point.” I opened the driver’s side door and stepped out, swallowing when I saw Matt in his entirety.

  If the handsome face wasn’t enough, the tall, muscular body was the ultimate icing on the cake. His thick, rippling biceps and forearms bulged as he folded his arms, and the white wifebeater he wore clung to his broad, toned chest and abs. Down to his rugged blue jeans and brown boots, he was unbelievably attractive. I managed to break away from drooling at him long enough to gather my things. We walked to his idling, fairly new pick-up truck and got in. Matt did a U-turn and headed back to his place, making small talk with me along the way.

  “So can I be cliché and ask what brings you here?”

  “How do you know I don’t live here?”

  “Well one, your license plate said Illinois. Two, I know a Texas woman when I hear her, and you are most certainly not from Texas.”

  Hot and perceptive. My kind of guy.

  “I’m here for a family reunion,” I divulged, droning my answer.

  “Damn if you don’t sound excited to get there,” he said caustically.

  “I’m not. If it wasn’t for my grandmother asking me to be there, I’d probably be in Illinois right now.”

  “Ah, I know what that’s like. Ain’t too fond of my extended family, ‘cept for my grandparents and a cousin or two.”

  We learned as much as we could about each other in the span of fifteen minutes. Matt was thirty one, a firefighter – as if he couldn’t be any hotter already – and lived by himself in a three bedroom ranch home. I assumed he was single, since I didn’t see a ring on his wedding finger, but that hadn’t been a good way to gauge a person’s availability in a very long time. He was young, single and handsome, the perfect candidate to play the field. I told him the bland details of my own life, which he actually found intriguing, especially my being a teacher.

  “What grades do you teach?”

  “Second and third. I started out with preschool and kindergarten.”

  Matt grinned. “I bet you have your hands full. Not enough time for yourself in between gradin’ papers, buyin’ supplies on your own dime and constant PTA meetin’s.”

  “That’s it in a nutshell. You know someone personally who’s a teacher?”

  “I did,” he clarified, but quickly changed the subject. “We’re almost there.”

  He turned down a wide, brightly lit street and pulled into a two car garage, exiting the driver’s side and walking around to mine to open the door for me.

  “Follow me. Phone’s in the kitchen.”

  I put my tote over my shoulder and trailed behind him. The kitchen, like the rest of his house, was neat and clean but didn’t strike me as a bachelor pad. There was a distinctive feminine touch – perhaps from his mother or last girlfriend? Hues of yellow, white and earth tones accompanied the subtle décor of his abode.

  “Nice house,” I complimented.

  “Wish I could take credit for it, but thanks. I’ll be in the living room while you get things sorted.”

  I watched him leave the room, staring at his broad back and getting just a glimpse of his firm backside before he disappeared from view. I called the 1-800 number and waited for a live operator to answer.

  Even with a flat tire and the shenanigans that awaited me at the family reunion, this trip wasn’t a complete bust. If only for a few hours, I’d met and gotten to know a handsome, helpful stranger. At best, we’d exchange contact information and stay in touch; at worst, it was a good story to tell to the girls at the water cooler when I got back home.

  Deep down, knowing my awkward social graces and overall shyness, the latter was more likely.

  “Roadside Assistance, how may I help you?”

  “Hello, yes. My car caught a flat tire…”

  ~ ~ ~

  I stared at Simone, watchin’ her animated mannerisms as she explained the situation to the person on the other line.

  Before my firefightin’ days, it was instilled in me from a young age to help when help was needed, no matter the situation. It wasn’t the first time I aided a stranger with a flat tire or blown engine, but I had never been curious about them like I was about Simone Parker.

  When she stepped out of the car, I pegged her for a few inches shy of six feet tall. I was well above that, but not many women I came across were as statuesque and curvaceous as Miss Simone was.

  Underneath that loose tee shirt and jeans, I could tell she was built like a goddess. Her glowing, caramel skin, pretty features, chocolate brown eyes and round cheeks were hard to look away from. Her wavy, brown hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. A real ebony beauty.

  It was refreshin’ to see a natural, modest woman. Most of the women in Tall Springs were bleached blonde, overly tanned and plastic – not that I was lookin’. I was still haulin’ a heavy weight on my shoulders that handicapped my wantin’ to move on. Before Simone, I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  I lost my wife, Tasha, in a car accident five years ago. When she passed, I spent two years in a fog and the last three tryin’ to start life over again, alone this time around.

  I got caught up in the memory of Tasha from time to time. I could still see the curly, black tendrils that framed her heart-shaped face; dusky, mahogany skin and her pouty, red lips that called my name so sweetly. Her coal black eyes shined like stars when I surprised her with the odd gift, and I would never forget hearing her soft breaths as she slept soundly on my chest.

  Somehow, meeting Simone that night enlightened me – by harpin’ on the past, I was holdin’ back any chance of me bein’ happy in the future. I only had myself to blame, but part of me was hopin’ someone like Simone’d come along and give me a little push.

  Not to sound too full of myself, but I had a feelin’ if I asked to swap numbers or shoot her an e-mail from time to time, she wouldn’t mind. The death grip she put on my hand and the nonstop starin’ she did in the c
ar ride back home was enough to tip me off.

  She liked what she saw, and I felt the same.

  I didn’t want to scare the poor girl off, so I’d wait until she left and casually ask for her contact info. Maybe it would go somewhere; maybe we’d just be good friends. I wasn’t tryin’ to rush into anything – I was always a fan of takin’ things slow, and I wasn’t gonna go against that now.

  After five years of bein’ alone, I was ready to take a gamble, and Simone was the perfect woman to bet on.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Ugh!”

  I slammed the phone receiver down. They’d dispatched someone, but he wouldn’t be able to fix my car until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

  I guess I’d gotten my wish after all.

  “Bad news?”

  Matt propped himself up against the kitchen counter, his head cocked to the side inquisitively.

  I exhaled with a nod, shoulders slumping. “Tomorrow morning. This is not happening,” I wailed, massaging my forehead. “I built up my patience reserves for that damned reunion, but it’s getting depleted by the second with this flat tire business. Aw, hell.”

  I made another wonderful realization and plopped down on a nearby barstool.

  “What?”

  “I have no idea where I’m going to sleep. I booked a hotel room, a nice hotel room and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere –“

  “Tall Springs.”

  “You know what I mean – while my car is on the highway and my family’s awaiting my arrival so they can make me miserable for an entire week.”

  Usually, I would try just a tad harder to hide the slight neurosis I had from a stranger, but these were special circumstances.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” Matt said.

  I continued my stress-induced tirade for a few minutes longer. If it were not for the occasional ‘uh huhs’, ‘yeah’s’ and ‘I gotcha’s’ from Matt’s walking past the kitchen and disappearing again, I would have been talking to myself. Finally, I wore myself out and took a deep breath, noticing a folded blanket and pillow on the couch.