Promise is a dept... Now you owe me.

abdulmaliq: Promise is a dept... Now you owe me.

debt

Rap maestro: debt

thanks, d mistake was done. So i tut of ignorin it, thanks anywy its dept nt debt oh sury dept nt debt, haha! *sad face* DEBT not DEPT. Thanks tomolola

abdulmaliq: thanks, d mistake was done. So i tut of ignorin it, thanks anywy its dept nt debt oh sury dept nt debt, haha! *sad face* DEBT not DEPT. Thanks tomolola

*hides face in shame* So sorry! you know how mondays is naa! Hopefully tomorrow

Hey, hope Demola's mission is not that of evil o. Suspence filled!!!. Sweetheart dnt keep us waiting again o.

U still owe me

Omolola this is not gud o. Oya please, i and we are waiting seriously o. We need it.

Damex333: Omolola this is not gud o. Oya please, i and we are waiting seriously o. We need it.

mehn! Bro, thumb up 2 u o. U are always where nice stories are..

Great story Lola, waiting for more updates.

However, there was something i noticed in your story.
You made mention of Portharcourt and Lagos especially as the location of your characters, but the picture you paint looks like something out of Texas U.S especially with your constant mention of 'hills' and 'barn' (as in ranch?) and the dressing of Demola(a stetson?)....very Montana-ish i must say.
You may want to try out fictional locations next time so it isn't difficult for readers who like to paint mental images to relate with. Also people outside Lagos or Nigeria may think this is what's obtainable here if you get my drift . When i read books, i like to learn a bit about the settings and the writer provides information on that. Please work on this.


Great story once more, i wonder how long Demola will hold out before you eventually crumbles Tomi's will

Episode 13

The next morning, Tomilola headed down the stairs, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpeting. It had been another long, sleepless night. Shaking her head, she wondered, for perhaps the millionth time, what Demola's deal was. Wondered what his cryptic remark about not belonging in the picture with her meant. Wondered why he was running the other way so fast when the chemistry between them was obviously so good.

She smiled ruefully. A few days ago she'd been glad of his reserve. Now, it was just frustrating. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be getting to the bottom of that little problem this morning. She'd seen the cowardly beast's truck disappearing across the field before the sun came up this morning. She'd have to snag him later. In the meantime, there were other questions she needed answered. Questions about the estate. She thought Charles could help her with those, and she'd noticed his truck was still parked in the yard. Once she had her shoes on, she'd hunt him down. She hit the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the kitchen, tennies in hand. The three pairs of socks she'd had with her when Demola had snagged her in Port Harcourt were in the dryer.

She pushed through the swinging doors - to find Charles leaning against the counter, eating a bowl of rice.

"Hey," she said. "Thinking of the devil."

He looked up at her. "Looking for me?"

"I was going to be as soon as I finished dressing."

He looked down at her. "Those tennies doesn't do you justice."

She looked at the tennies, taking in their soft construction. "You're probably right. But since I barely have enough money in savings to cover the rent on my place in Port Harcourt until I can get back there to collect my things. I don't think shoes are in the budget."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. While you won't have access to any of your dad's money for the next six months, he did create a fund so you could pay your bills and have a little spending money during this time. He didn't want you to be out anything if you decided not to stay. There's plenty of money there to cover your rent."

"Great. Then shoe shopping is back on. Is there a store nearby?"

"Yes."

"That little down about ten miles down the highway?" she asked in disbelief. The place didn't look big enough to have more than the petrol station that sat on the highway. He smiled, spooning up another bite of rice.
"I'll give you a signed cheque from the estate. You can fill out the amount once you've picked out the shoes - and whatever else you need. There's plenty of money in the fund, and I know Demola dragged you here on short notice."

She grabbed her socks from the dryer and strode back into the kitchen. "Fine, but I have a better idea than sending the cheque with me. Can they spare you from work today?"

"I imagine."

"Good. Then come with me to town. I have a ton of questions about the estate. You can answer them while we drive. Then you can just write the check for the store."

"We can do that. But Demola is probably the best person to talk to about the Big W. He's involved with every aspect of the place."

"Don't worry, I have every intention of lassoing that boy later." Boy did she. "But what I'm interested in at the moment is the estate's finances. That's your bailiwick, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Good, then grab your keys and let's go."

Five minutes later, they were bouncing down the dirt road in Charles' car. "So what do you want to know?" he asked.

She chuckled. "I'm not exactly sure. Why don't we start with how much this place made last year. Maybe that'll give me an idea of what's possible and what's not."

"Last year, it cleared almost half a million dollars."

"Half a . . ." She stared wide-eyed at him. "The Big W sold half a million dollars in cows?"

"Cattle, Tomilola. Cattle. And yes, a big chunk of the profit came from beef and fish farming. But your father also has other investments and a stock portfolio. And the poultry made good money last year. Very good money."

She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Cattle, poultry, investments and stock portfolios? Maybe she should have taken her business classes more seriously. "Okay, this is more complicated than I thought. Let's take a different direction. Demola said Dad funnelled against most of his profits back into the estate to grow it. But as far as I'm concerned, the Big W is plenty big enough. So I'm going to want to channel that money in a very different direction."

He cleared his throat. "Can I ask what you have in mind?"

"You know what the Alpine Angels do, right?"

"Fund-raisers for people in medical crisis."

"Right. And I want to use the profits the Big W makes to do more of the same."

His expression turned thoughtful. "Sounds interesting. And as long as you're careful not to cut into the money needed to run the estate, you should have a steady source of income for the Angels. And there are some great tax benefits to that scenario."

Excitement skittered through her. "So you think it's doable?"

He nodded, obviously intrigued by the idea. "Absolutely. However, if your goal is to turn the Big W into the base for a charity organization, you might want to keep some of the money for growth. Because the bigger the Big W is, the more money it will make. And the more you can give away."

She thought about that for a sec. "Okay, you have a point. But making the Big W bigger might be a little tricky, since I'm not sure about the cattle. As you noticed the other day, I have some problems with how that end of the operation is being run. I'm going to make some changes. And some of those changes might cut into profits."

He thought for a second. "Then think about increasing the cow end of the business. Or go heavier into investments. Your dad used investments strictly as a way to diversify. So he'd have money coming in during the down years in the cattle industry. But you could use them more proactively.

"I like that idea. Except. . .I don't know anything about investing. Did Dad make his own investment decisions or did someone do it for him?"

"Your father always made the final decision, but I found the investments for him."

"Really? I thought you were just the accountant."

He smiled. "I said I did the estate's books, and I do. But I handled all your father's financial needs. My job description probably leans more toward financial adviser than accountant."

"So you could help me restructure things for the charity and help me grow the investment end of the business?"

"Absolutely."

Excitement poured through her. What portion of last night she hadn't spent thinking about Demola's kiss, she'd spent wondering how to turn the Big W into a moneymaker for the Angel's charity. It was thrilling to hear it was doable. "Okay, let's get together soon and start working on strategies."

"Just wander into the office when you're ready and we'll get busy. But first, it's time to shop. We're here."

She'd been so engrossed in their talk she hadn't noticed they'd driven into the tiny town.

Charles drove past a petrol station, the post office and a bank before pulling into a space in front of a store with a big display window and a sign that read T's Apparel and Sundries.

Sundries? There was a word one didn't see too often these days. Smiling, Tomilola got out of the car and strolled over to the display window. Two mannequins, one male, one female, stood in frozen poses, each wearing pair of stiff Wranglers, a pearl-snap western-cut shirt, black hats and two pairs of the fanciest alligator-skin shoes she'd ever seen. She pointed to them as Charles joined her on the sidewalk. "Those are cool."

He chuckled, shaking his head a little. "Pretty fancy for real work." He held the door open for her.

"Maybe." She strode past him into the store and looked around. Racks and shelves of jeans and shirts and other "sundries" were scattered around the front of the store. She headed toward the back where she spied a small open area with a few chairs and a wall full of shoes.

Once there, she spotted the alligator-skin shoes immediately. She picked one of them up, the alligator skin smooth and tough beneath her fingers. Absolutely the coolest shoe she'd ever seen. She turned it over.

Her eyes popped wide and her jaw dropped. She held the boot up so the sole was visible to Charles and pointed to the sticker. "Twenty thousand naira," she mouthed.

Smiling, Charles walked over to her. "If you're really hooked on those, there's plenty of money in the fund for them."

She shook her head. "No way would I pay fifteen thousand naira for a pair of shoes. I have a list of people I could keep in the medications they need for months with that kind of money." She set the shoes down and picked up a simple, black one.

Charles shook his head and took it from her hand. "Not those. They're cheap, but you'll have blisters on top of blisters by the time you break them in. And they won't last more than a year."

He set the shoe back on its shelf and pointed to a few pair of shoes clustered on a larger shelf. "Look at those. They're a little more expensive but they won't ruin your feet while you're breaking them in and you'll be able to wear them until the day you die."
And they weren't quite as plain as the black ones, either. She checked the price on a pair of brown, two-tone ones. Very affordable.

"Hey, Charles. You looking for new shoes?" The young, female voice floated through the small shoe area.

Tomilola looked up to see a pretty girl smiling broadly at Charles, her big eyes filled with admiration. She squelched the smile that pulled at her own lips. She'd been right about Charles turning ladies heads. This one was obviously smitten.

"Actually, I brought Tomilola in to buy." The smile Charles gave the girl was polite and friendly but nothing more as he waved a hand toward Tomilola. "Barbara, I'd like you to meet Tomilola Daniels, Wole Adenuga's daughter. Tomilola, this Barbara Okorie. She's been working here at T's for the last year. Her daddy owns the estate to the west of the Big W."

Barbara's expression brightened. "Hey, it's great to meet you. I heard they'd finally found you. I'm sorry they didn't find you before your dad passed away. But he'd be glad you're here now. He always wanted the estate to go to you."

It was nice to hear from someone besides Demola that her father had wanted her there. Tomilola bobbed her head. "Thanks."

Barbara nodded at the boots in Tomilola's hand. "You wanna try those?"

"You bet."

"You got it. Have a seat." Barbara tipped her head toward the chairs and disappeared into the back.

A man in his late fifties or early sixties, with gray hair and deep lines around his eyes, wandered in while they waited. As he made his way to the wall of boots, he looked their way, his lips turning down as he spotted Charles.

Before Tomilola could ask what the man's problem was, Barbara returned with two big boxes in her arms. "Okay, let's give thee a try." She set the boxes on the floor, looking at Charles as she opened the top one. "So how are things going out at the Second Chance?"

Tomilola looked at Charles, surprise running through her. "The Second Chance? Do you work on another estate as well as the Big W?"

Barbara laughed, slipping the shoes on Tomilola's feet. "That's just what a lot of the folks around here call the Big W, being as how your daddy gave so many young men a second chance and all."

"A second chance?"

"Yeah, you know, guys broke with no place to live or having a little skirmishes with the law. A lot of folks around here wouldn't hire those men, but your daddy would if he had an opening. Even if he didn't sometimes. He thought everyone should have a second chance."

Something warm and fuzzy trickled through Tomilola. Sitting a few seats down, the old man snorted, the shoe he'd picked to try on in his hand. "The Second Chance is only what the fools in these parts call your old man's place. The smarter ones call it the Little P" Pure contempt sounded in his voice.

"Shut up, T.J. Nobody asked for your input." Charles spoke calmly, but the hard look in his eye made it clear he meant business. The man curled his lips in a nasty sneer. "P, as in penitentiary. Half the men working on your dad's place are ex-cons. From thieves to drug dealers to murderers."

Murderers? She looked to Charles, a cold chill swirling inside her. "The man's jerking your chain, Tomilola," Charles quickly assured. "There are no murderers on the Big W."

The old man snorted again. "Just ask your executor what he spent five years in prison for, if you don't believe me."

She snapped her gaze to the man, the chill settling in her stomach. "The Big W's executor?"

Pure hatred narrowed the man's cold, gray eyes. "That's right, your executor, Ademola." He spat the words like bullets. And then, as if he couldn't contain his anger anymore and didn't want to do something he would regret, he slammed the shoe he'd been holding on the chair next to him, thrust himself from his chair and stalked away.

She turned to Charles, the chill spreading to her bones. "Is Demola an ex-con?"

"Let's talk in the car." He nodded to the shoes on her feet. "Those going to work?"

How would she know? Her entire body was numb. "They're fine."

"Good, let's get out of here." Charles grabbed her shoes and started stuffing them into the shoe box. Barbara looked up at Charles, her big eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Charles. I. . ."

"Not your fault, Barbara. It's not your job to control the local dissidents. Let's just get these rung up, shall we?" He crammed the lid on the box and helped Tomilola to her feet. A thousand questions pounded through her head as Charles paid for the shoes and escorted her back to his truck. Was this the reason behind Demola's reserve? The reason he'd left her that night, her lips throbbing, her body aching? And if it was, what then?

As soon as the car was on the road she turned to Charles, her stomach tied in knots. "Demola's an ex con?" His lips pressed into a thin line he answered with a single nod.
Oh, God. "What did he do?"

Charles shook his head "Your father had a rule on the Big W. No gossiping behind people's backs. You want to know about someone, you ask him."

She couldn't believe her ears. "You're kidding, right? You're going to stonewall me? You don't think I have a right to be a little nervous about the idea of living with a bunch of ex-cons?" She wanted to be a PC about this. If the men were ex-cons, they'd paid their debt to society; she shouldn't penalize them with her prejudice. But the thought of living with a bunch of men who'd done God knew what was damn unsettling.

"Look, having made his own mistakes, your dad understood that sometimes people screw up. He didn't think that they should pay their entire lives for it. But he wasn't an idiot, Tomilola. He always hoped, always believed, he'd find you and your mother and bring you home. Do you really think he'd bring men onto the estate who'd be a danger to you?"

"Quite frankly, I don't know what to think. But just because my father was comfortable with these men, just because he thought my mother and I would be safe around them, doesn't mean I will feel the same. I want to know who these men are and what they did. And I think I have that right."

He grimaced but nodded. "You're right, you do. But I won't talk behind their backs. What I can do is give you the names of the men with prison records. There aren't that many, by the way. Seven, to be exact. You can call them in, ask them yourself why they spent time behind bars. If they want to tell you what they did, fine. If not, you can decide if you want to let them go."

She stared out at the highway disappearing beneath the car's hood, acid pouring into her stomach, a sharp ache throbbing suspiciously close to her heart. She thought she'd known what kind of man Demola was. Now she didn't have a clue. But she was damned well going to find out.

She gave her head a sharp nod. "I can live with that. Let's start with Demola."

Oh my, Omolola1 that was such a good read.
It's my very first time here, actually registered today. Registered because I wanted to be a part of the Literature/Writing team - read stories, poems, share mine.
And starting with your own has been a real experience.

Interesting characters ... real hottie male

Checked out your blog too. Way to go girl.

Omolola1 has turn her update 2 thursday,
Thursday of a thing anyway weldon

Tomilola!! U rily cut me deep... Its gettin rily interestin.
I jst pray tomilola dnt mak decisions sh will regret... Cnt wait 4 ur nxt update..

Episode 14

Tomilola paced anxiously behind her father's desk. The minute she and Charles had gotten home she'd sent one of the hands out to meet Demola, tell him he was expected back at the estate. Pronto. She flexed her hands, trying to generate some warmth in her cold, clammy fingers.

Prison.

Prison. The ominous title rang in her head, knotting her stomach and sending her feet skimming faster over the thick brown carpet. Pain and anger slashed through her. She'd kissed him. And he'd kissed her back, damn. How dare he not tell her he'd spent time in prison?

Two brisk knocks sounded on the door.

She spun to face the closed portal, squaring her shoulders. If he even tried to avoid her questions, he was a dead man.
"Come in."

The door swung open and Demola stepped into the office. "You wanted to talk to me?" His motions were stiff, his expression apprehensive.
He obviously sensed trouble. Smart man. Cocking up a toe, she pointed to her feet. "I went to town today and bought some shoes. Like them?" She made no attempt to hide her anger.
He blinked fatalistically when she mentioned her trip to town. But he went through the motions of looking at her shoes. "Very nice."

"Yeah, I kind of like them. But as it turned out, they weren't the highlight of the trip." He raised his gaze to hers. "I'm not much for playing games, Tomilola. Why don't you just get to the point?"

"I would have thought you liked games. You've certainly been playing them with me." The corners of his lips turned down, but he didn't comment. He merely stood, waiting.

"Fine. No games. Why didn't you tell me you were an ex-con?"

He blinked and when he opened his eyes it was as if a light had been extinguished, as if his very soul had been blown out. "It's not something a man likes to advertise. Particularly if he's trying to gain someone's trust. And I needed you to trust me to get you on that plane in Port-Harcourt."

Ah, yes. His hard determination. The thing she'd noticed first about him. Had he fooled her into thinking there was a softer side to him? "You've had plenty of opportunity since."

"Yes, I have. But things have been rather hectic since your arrival. And with all the emotions you were dealing with about your dad, I didn't think you needed more distractions."

She narrowed her gaze on him. "You didn't want me to know. Period."
He looked away. "No, I didn't."
Because of the reasons he'd just mentioned? Or because he didn't want her to think badly of him? Because her opinion of him mattered? "Well, now I know. What were you in for?"

He looked back, meeting her gaze squarely. "Attempted murder."

The breath rushed out of her. "Attempted. . ."

"Murder."

She fell back a step. "The man in the store hinted there were murderers living on this estate, but. . .Charles denied it."

"Because there aren't any murderers on this estate. The charge was attempted murder. I didn't kill anyone. Though not for lack of trying." Anger vibrated in his voice, though at himself or the person he'd tried to kill she couldn't tell.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, the world tilting beneath her feet. He started toward her. "For crying out loud, sit down before you fall down."

She held her hand up, stopping him in his tracks. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm not going to make it that easy on you." She drew a fortifying breath and pulled her thoughts together. "Who did you try to murder?"

He grimaced, once again looking away. "A man."

"That's not an answer."

A muscle along his jaw flexed, but he said nothing. She gritted her teeth. "Fine. A man. Why did you try to murder him?"

He gave her a sardonic look. "You think there's a good reason to take the law into your own hands? Trust me, there isn't."

Well, he seemed to have gotten that lesson down pat. But it wasn't the answer she was looking for. "What did this man do that made you want to kill him?"

More silence.

Anger sliced through her. "You know, Demola, you didn't cut me one ounce of slack when you dragged me to this place. And I'm not cutting you any now. Why did you try to kill that man?"

He turned on her, anger and torment twisting his expression. "Because he raped my little sister."

"Your sister?" Confusion washed through her. "You told me you didn't have any brothers or sisters."

"I don't. Not anymore." The words were as bleak as the soulless look in his eyes.

"Oh, God. Did he kill her?" Her words were whisper thin, her anger slipping away.

"Not that day, he didn't."

Her stomach churned. "What does that mean?"

"It means Thomas Johnson didn't kill her the day he raped her. Wasn't even around the day she died, but. . "

"Thomas Johnson, T.J?"

He nodded. "Thomas Johnson raped my sister."

"The man in the store this morning, the one who told me about the ex-cons working on the ranch, Charles called him T.J."

He grimaced. "That would be Thomas' daddy. They share the same name. He's had a grudge against the Big W ever since I came to work here. Despite the fact I was in prison when they arrested his son and convicted him for another rape, he blames me for his boy's capture."

"If you were behind bars when his son was picked up, how can he blame you?"

"He blames me because I was the one who scarred Thomas' face. And it was that scar that allowed his next victim to identify him."

"Next victim? He wasn't in jail for raping your sister?"

"He walked." Demola laughed, a cold, hollow, sound. "Legal technicality."

More of her anger slid away, turning to empathy as his story unfolded. "That's why you went after him. Because the law wouldn't."

"I went after him because watching him walk the streets free as a bird after what he'd done to her was destroying Detola."

"That was your sister's name? Detola?"

He nodded, his eyes taking on a glassy look, as if he were gazing back over the years. "After the rape she was quiet, withdrawn. Pretty much what one would expect after a violent attack. But when Thomas got off, she went nuts. Fighting with our parents, sneaking into bars, driving fast and drinking at every opportunity."

His words from the night he'd kissed her - echoed in her head. It doesn't take a psychologist to know that anyone who flirts with the kind of danger the Alpine Angels rush into on a regular basis is fighting. . .something. Her heart tripped. "You said Thomas Johnson wasn't around the day your sister died?"

"No." The single word was clipped, curt.

She didn't want to ask. She didn't want to think about a girl who'd been brutally raped. About a girl who'd seen her rapist walk free. But she had to know what had happened all those years ago. "How did she die?"

His expression was as cold as an arctic night. "Combined the drinking and fast driving one night. Drove her car off the third mainland."

She closed her eyes. No wonder he was sensitive about the Angels' stunts. "I'm sorry,"

"So am I." His eyes were as dull as his voice.

Her heart ached. For Detola. For Demola. "Why did the charge end up being attempted murder instead of murder? Why didn't you kill Thomas? Did you come to your senses, decide it wasn't worth it?"

"Oh, no. I wasn't that smart then. I fully intended to beat him to death. But Thomas' neighbour saw me pull up, saw me pound my way through Thomas front door and he called the cops. The cops didn't get there soon enough to keep me from doing some major damage to him, but they got there in time to save him."

Tomilola couldn't imagine the rage that had sent him to that house. But she could sympathize with it. "I'm glad they got to you before you killed him."

"Why? Because you think he didn't deserve to die?" Anger vibrated in his voice.

She shook her head. "I think he probably did. But killing him yourself would only have ruined your life. I don't think that would have helped anyone. Least of all Detola."

"No, it didn't help Detola a bit."

She suspected there was more behind that remark than met the eye, but right now she needed to concentrate on the Demola part of the story. "How long were you in prison?"

"Five years."

And the anguish of every one of those years was evident in his eyes. "That's a long time."

"You can't imagine."

"No I can't." She watched him quietly. "Is that why you walked away from me the other night? Because you're an ex-con?" She could see the shame that title caused him. "Is that what you meant when you said you didn't belong in the picture with me?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Tomilola, don't look at me like it doesn't make me the last kind of man you should have in your life."

She'd had Demola dragged in here because she'd wanted to know what kind of man he was. Wanted to know if he was the honorable, caring man she thought he was. Or a cold calculating criminal.

The regret she saw in his face for the decision he'd made all those years ago, the pain still haunting him for his sister's rape and death told her everything she needed to know. "I'm not sure it does. Going after Thomas was stupid. But you did it for all the right reasons. How old were you when it happened?"

Impatience and self-deprecating anger snapped in his eyes. "Old enough to know better And don't glorify or justify what I did. There's no justification for it. It was a stupid, irresponsible, wrong thing to do."

"Words spoken by an older, wiser man." A man whose life was unalterably changed by the events of a sad, tragic time.

"Wiser or not, I guarantee the only thing people see when they look at me is an ex-con. Scum of the earth. What I've done since prison doesn't mean a damned thing to them. And any woman whose name is attached to mine will be lowered to the same level."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Not a bit. Old man Johnson might well have a personal beef with me, but I guarantee there are plenty other people in town who view me and the other ex-cons on this estate with the same contempt and loathing he does."

"I'm sure there are. Bigots have always been, and will always be, around. But there are also fair-minded people. People like Barbara Okorie. She made it clear she had no qualms about the Big W. Or any of the men on it. And my father obviously thought a man's character was made up of more than his past mistakes. As for myself, I prefer to make up my own mind about a person."

His expression shuttered. "By all means, make up your own mind. But I'm not going to drag any woman down to my level. Least of all Wole Adenuga's daughter."

"And I don't get any say in this?" Frustration pounded through her. "I'm supposed to ignore the fact that I still can't stop thinking about that kiss? That every time I'm around you, my nerves hum and little tingles race through my body?"

Demola's expression remained cold, detached. "Unless you're into frustration, I recommend that's exactly what you do. I have no intention of compounding the mistake I made thirteen years ago. I screwed up and I'll pay the price, but I'm so not going to let you pay it with me." He spun on his heel and strode out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

She plowed her fingers through her hair. She'd convinced herself Demola was the honorable, caring man she'd thought him to be. Convinced herself he was exactly the kind of man she wanted in her life. But convincing him was obviously not going to be so easy.

Hmmmmmmm captivating.

well done omotola, oya upload the next chapter sharp sharp


the suspense is too much

maingwaest: Hmmmmmmm captivating.

Thanks sweetz

bola-dex:
well done omotola, oya upload the next chapter sharp sharp


the suspense is too much

Glad am holding you spell-bound
Not to worry, Friday!

Three gbosa to you Omolola.
Gbosa!
Gbosa!!
Gbosa!!!

I am totally subscribed with my arms, feet and brains.

Ride on!
You are making me remember days of my reading Pacesetters (novel series) in secondary school.
Please, don't starve us with the next Chapter O!

Can't wait for friday. Well done omolola.

Brains1313: Three gbosa to you Omolola.
Gbosa!
Gbosa!!
Gbosa!!!

I am totally subscribed with my arms, feet and brains.

Ride on!
You are making me remember days of my reading Pacesetters (novel series) in secondary school.
Please, don't starve us with the next Chapter O!

*blowing you kisses*
Gracias much!
Reading your comment made me blush

Charmin':
Can't wait for friday. Well done omolola.

Thanks charming!
Friday, round the corner...lol

Am not gud when it comes to lies... Honestly omolola dis is exquisite! Am loving it every single sec.
More power to your elbow.

Honestly ur post made my night not after the harsh words of my gal wants to spoil it.

One word "WOWWONDERFUL"

abdulmaliq: Am not gud when it comes to lies... Honestly omolola dis is exquisite! Am loving it every single sec.
More power to your elbow.

Honestly ur post made my night not after the harsh words of my gal wants to spoil it.

Damex333: One word "WOWWONDERFUL"

Thanks sweetheart!

Omolola... Am missing you and your dexterity already...

Episode 15

Demola crouched by the rear tire of his truck, still cursing as he cranked the last nut on the lugs as quickly as he could. The sun had peeked over the horizon a good half hour ago. He needed to get this tire changed and get out of here before -

The front door of the big house creaked.

Damn. He hadn't been quick enough.

Footsteps echoed on the porch. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder. He knew who the footsteps belonged to. Knew where they were heading.

He swore as he set the crowbar aside and started lifting the tire from the rear axle.

The footsteps crossed the drive and stopped beside him.

"Hey, Demola."

He tossed the tire aside and narrowed his gaze at Tomilola from his crouched position. "Slitting tires is pretty low, don't you think?"

She shrugged, taking another sip of coffee from the mug she cradled in her hands. "I did think about just letting the air out, but I was afraid you'd fix that too fast and be on your way before I could catch you. You're getting pretty good at this avoiding me thing."

Apparently, not good enough. He straightened to his full height. "We're in the middle of roundup, remember? I have work to do."

"Charles said the last of the cows - excuse me, cattle - were driven back to the open pastures two days ago. That sounds like roundup's over to me."

Note to himself: strangle Charles next time he saw him. In the meantime, he might need a more direct approach. "Maybe I think we could both use a cooling off period."

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Maybe I don't want to cool off."

Desire slammed through him, hot and hard. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from her and strode to the tailgate. "We've already been over this."

"You've been over it. I don't recall you letting me have much say in the matter."

"That's because there isn't anything to say."

"Oh, there's plenty to say. Like, I think what's important is who you are today, not who you were all those years ago. And I like who you are today. I like the honour and quiet determination that make up the core of you. Like the way you watch out for me. And. . ." she shot him a sexy smile "I like the way you kiss me."

And he liked the way she kissed back. Too damned much. "You're romanticizing a bit. Honor and determination." He snorted with contempt. "For crying out loud, I'm an executor, doing my job. End of story."


"I'm not romanticizing anything. I've given this serious thought, and. . ."

"If you've thought about it and still think getting involved with an ex-con makes an ounce of sense, you're either very naive or not thinking as seriously as you should." He pulled the spare out of the truck's bed and went to work putting it on."

She sighed. "You know, if you weren't so damned honorable and determined, you wouldn't be fighting me on this. And I did give it serious thought. Getting involved with a man isn't something I take lightly anymore. In fact, I declared a moratorium on men after I left my ex. I thought if I was going to figure out what I wanted in life, it was best not to have any distractions while I did it."

So that's why she'd kept her distance in the beginning. He'd wondered. "A moratorium sounds like a good idea to me. I'd think twice before abandoning it."

"Oh, I did. But, thanks to your help. . ." she tossed him a cheeky grin . . ."I know what I want. I want to make the Big W my home and use it as a financial base for the Angels' charity. So you see, I don't need the moratorium anymore."

"If you don't show better judgment than you are right now, you need it more than you think." He put the last nut on the lugs, grabbed the tire iron and started lightening them, doing his best to pretend she wasn't there. Doing his best to ignore the aching need gnawing at his gut.

"Man, you're stubborn."

Not stubborn. Determined. Determined to give her everything Wole Adeyemi had wanted for her. Everything good and wonderful and bright. But that determination was weakening by the second. He needed to do what he'd been trying to do all week. Put some distance between them. "Don't you have things you need to be doing?"

"Actually, I don't. Certainly not anything as fun as this. Do you have any idea how sexy you look changing that tire?"

He lunged out of his crouch and closed the distance between them in two quick strides. "Stop it. Just stop it."

She smiled. "Why? Because. . ."

"Because teasing is only going to make this harder for us. And it's not going to get what you want."

Her gaze, warm and knowing, skated over him. "I'm thinking it might get me exactly what I want."

The sound of a car horn tooting twice broke through her words.

They both turned, looking for the source of the disturbance. A car, its headlights still shining in the early morning light, was moving along the road that led in from the highway.

She looked back to him. "One of the hands coming early?"

He shook his head. "I don't recognize the car." But he was damned glad for its arrival. Two more seconds of her teasing and he'd have been tempted to strangle her. And God knew where that would have led.

The car drove down the road that snaked between the paddocks. heading toward them. Suddenly, brown heads were poking out of every window Shrieks and hollers and hey-Tomilolas split the morning quiet.

Tomilola turned back to him with a wry smile. "Take a deep breath, you've got a temporary reprieve. The Alphine Angels have arrived."

Thank God. Not just for the moment, but for the buffer they would offer for however long they stayed. "Did you know they were coming?"

She shook her head. "I've been talking to them about things on the phone since I came. They said they'd be coming eventually, but I didn't expect them this soon."

Things? He wondered uncomfortably if he was one of those things.

The car pulled to a stop, the girls piled out and then there was nothing but hugs and how-are-you's. Eventually Tomilola took a step back. "Ladies, I'd like you to meet the foreman of the Big W, Demola Adenuga. Demola, this is Rose, Yemi and Amaka." She pointed to each girl as she introduced her.

Despite the fact that they were all brown and very close to the same age, Demola noted they were easy to tell apart. Rose was tall and statuesque. Yemi was tiny, a flat five-foot-nothing with the frame of a humming bird. And Amaka, well, Amaka was all curves and raw sexuality. Not his type, but he imagined she attracted men like honey attracted flies.

He shook their hands and gave them polite nods. "Welcome to the Big W."

Their looks were sharp and knowing as they gave him the once-over.

Great. So much for wondering if he was one of the things Tomilola had discussed with them. He obviously was. Which did not bode well. He was having enough trouble with Tomilola without adding three more scheming females to the mix.

"You guys hungry?" Tomilola asked. "We can go in and I'll cook you breakfast."

"That sounds great," Rose said. "Then after breakfast, you can show us around the estate. I can't wait to see the cattle. Then tonight, we can put our party dresses on and go dancing. We spotted a place not too far down the road. Looks like a place that knows how to dish out fun."

Demola nearly choked. Tomilola at the local meat market? He didn't like the sound of that one bit. "That place can get pretty wild. You might want to just stay in, rent a movie."

Amaka laughed. "Wild is the Angels' middle name. Of course, you could come, help keep us out of trouble." Pure calculation sparkled in her eyes. They hadn't been here five minutes and they were plotting already. "Sorry, I have business here."

The curvy one just shrugged and smiled. "Too bad, it ought to be fun." She turned to Tomilola. "I brought plenty of let's-go-dancing, turn-the-boys'-heads clothes. Perfect for a little celebration to kiss your moratorium on men goodbye."

Tomilola looked to him, her eye gaze locking on to his in challenge.

Just the thought of Tomilola in another man's arms made him crazy. But he couldn't let himself be sucked into the girls' machinations. If he snuggled up to Tomilola on a dance floor, it would be all over. They'd be in bed before the night was through. Not an option. He looked away, refusing to even play the game.

"Jimmy's it is," Tomilola finally said, a definite edge to her voice. "Drinking, dancing and good-looking guys. Sounds like a good time to me."

They strolled off toward the house, arm in arm, chatting and giggling.

He stared after them, trying to pull air into his lungs. Tomilola was not going to that bar looking for a man. She was just trying to make him jealous.

And damn her sweet, curvy little hide, it was working.

Nice one dear but very short....more pls...

Getting interesting day by day weldon dearie

nice one and too short, upload more ooo

Oh no dis ɪ̣̝̇ƨ̣̣̇̇ JƱڪτ̲̅ too short, but ƭнåйкs Åℓℓ the̶̲̥̅̊ same.

Episode 16

"This is the garden." Tomilola said to the girls. She and the girls were killing the afternoon by touring the estate. At least the places Tomilola knew how to get out to and back from without getting lost.

"It's beautiful." Yemi said, stopping next to Tomilola.

"Well, look who's come to join us." Amaka pointed down the road, a sly smile turning her lips. Tomilola turned to see Demola trotting down the road. "Well, that's a surprise." Considering the way he'd been avoiding her, he was the last person she expected to see.

He trotted up to them, tipped his hat. "Ladies."

Tomilola lifted a single brow. "You lost, Demola?"

He smiled. "Nope. Charles said you planned on showing the girls around the estate. I thought you might appreciate a tour guide."

"Well, that was nice of you." Yemi gave him a big smile. "And you came just in time to see our race."

"Race?" Surprise flashed across Rose's face.

Tomilola wanted to groan out loud at the obvious ploy to leave her and Demola alone. But she didn't waste her breath. Yemi was incorrigible when it came to men and matchmaking. And besides, she could use the time alone with Demola to push her case. Make him see how stubborn he was being.

"Yes, our race," Rose said conspiratorially. "We're running over that top and down to that tree on the far side. Everyone except Tomilola, of course. She's judging, remember?"

"That's right," Amaka agreed, quickly catching on.

"If you ladies haven't ridden anymore than Tomilola, you might want to keep your race on the road. We'll be less likely to have to pick you up out of the dirt that way."

Amaka waved away his concern. "We'll be fine. This is tame compared to the stuff we're usually doing."

"Which does not make me feel any better." He grimaced, looking over the race course. "You're going to want to be careful on the sides of that road or someone could take a nasty fall."

"Not a problem. Come on, ladies." Yemi called, creating the starting point for their race.
The other girls joined her, Amaka hollered go and they were off.

Demola turned to Tomilola as they thundered away. "They're as subtle as a swarm of locusts."

Tomilola laughed. "Yes, but they have gentler hearts. So, you want to tell me why you really came out here?"

He tipped a shoulder. "Four daredevils, four cattles. I was afraid the four of you would cook up something that would get both you and the cattles killed."

She rolled her eyes. "So you came along to save us from ourselves."

"Something like that," he admitted dryly.

"Oh, come on, we're not that bad."

He pointed toward the racing trio. "You're that bad. Do any of you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions?"

She sighed, knowing how he felt about the dare-devil stuff. "You think we're like your sister, don't you? Troubled girls looking for a way to self-destruct?"

He just looked at her. But she knew what that look meant.

"I don't think we are. Which is not to say the extreme sports don't fill some need for each of us. I'm sure they do."

His gaze locked onto hers. "What need do they fill for you?"

"I don't know. Triumph maybe. Excitement surely."

"That's a pretty sketchy answer."

"That's because you're looking for some deep dark motivation. There isn't one. My mom was pretty sick by the time I was fifteen. I was doing everything I could to hold our world together. But I knew it was falling apart fast. Knew I wasn't going to be able to save it. I could, however, take my bicycle and ride down the street. It was a small victory, but it was a victory - and I didn't have many of those back then. It was also fun and exciting, it was a good release. End of story."

"It means more to you than that, or you wouldn't still be doing it."

She laughed. "Well, it's still a good release. It's not like my life has been all that great in recent years, either. Remember, creepy boyfriends, dead-end jobs, classes I don't care about.
She'd never thought of the risks she was taking in the past. When she was younger, the bike riding had been fun - and she'd thought she was invincible. A few accidents and broken bones in her early teenage years had taught her that wasn't the case, but then the idea of the charity came to her and putting herself at risk seemed acceptable when she looked at the end result. Particularly since she didn't really have much to lose.

But now she had the Big W and an opportunity to make a difference in more than a few people's lives. And, of course, there was Demola.

She watched the girls race, heading for the inevitable trek downward, a frisson of alarm running through her. She'd been lucky to run into these women. They'd all added important things to her life. Wonderful things. The thought of anything happening to them . . .

She held her breath as they careered down the side, the girls rocking wildly. When they finally hit the bottom, all still on their heels, she breathed a sigh of relief. "So maybe I'll scale things back for future events. Maybe figure out a way to use the Big W. Not just as a financial base, but as a place to run the events. I'll have to think about it."

He shot her a knowing look. "Good friends, huh? Might want to hang on to them for a while?"

She smiled, watching the girls steak by the finish line. "The best. And now that we've solved the Angels' idiosyncrasies, let's take a closer look at yours, shall we?"

His expression turned dark. "I don't have any idiosyncrasies. I have a code of ethics that won't let me drag you into my mess. Looking at it closer won't change anything."

"Let's give it a shot, anyway."

"Let's not." He pointed to the cattles. "Those cattles are spent. They need to be walked straight back to the barn and put away. And since you seem to have finally grasped - at least in a fledgling manner - the idea of caution, my work here is done. I have to get back to my real job." Without another word, he led the cattles away,

Tomilola stared after him, irritation pounding through her. She'd had him in her grasp and let him slip away.

Man, she hoped she had better luck tonight.


**************************************************************************


"You look great." Rose brushed one more of Tomilola's curls into place and stepped back.
Amaka tweaked the ruffles at Tomilola's cleavage. "Oh, yeah, he sees you in this, no way he's going to let you trundle off to the bar alone. If he lets you trundle off at all."

Tomilola looked in the cheval mirror. With a trip into a boutique and a few things that had come out of her bag, Amaka had worked miracles. Tomilola was wearing a dark green, midcalf skirt, the crinkly, gauzy kind that had tons of material in it. It floated around the curve of her hips and swished softly, coyly, against her calves. With the flat, strappy sandals she wore, it represented the soft, feminine side of the outfit.

The strapless bustier top that nipped in her waist and lifted her breasts like twin gifts to the gods was the leave-no-man-standing side of the outfit. Its white cotton eyelet material played with her tanned skin, while the small ruffled edge that ran along the top drew a man's eye directly to her provocatively plumped breasts.

She frowned at her reflection. "I'm not sure about this. It feels. . .dishonest."

Amaka tsked, fluffing her own curls in the mirror. "There's nothing dishonest about making a recalcitrant man sit up and take notice. Nor is there anything wrong with reminding him he isn't the only fish in the sea. Or in this instance, the only "guy" in Lagos."

"He might not be the only guy in the state, but he's the only one I'm interested in. And . . ."

"And you said you've tried everything to pin the man down in the last week. . .to no avail," Yemi pointed out.

"That's true. But still. . ."

"But still, nothing," Amaka admonished. "Relax, will you? You aren't committing a cardinal sin here. All you're trying to do is make the man come to you long enough for you to have a real conversation, right? Long enough for you to convince him he's being overly sensitive about this ex-con thing, right?"

"Yes, But. . ."

"But nothing. Do you want him or not?" Rose asked, impatiently.

She did want him. And he wanted her, dang it. He was just too wrapped up in his skewed sense of honor to take her. Which meant it was up to her to make him see how wrongheaded he was being. She squared her shoulders. "I want him."

"Then let's go." Amaka waved a hand toward the bedroom door.

They headed down the stairs, Tomilola's stomach tied in a tight, aching knot. "What if this doesn't work? What if he doesn't come out of his house?"
"I saw his face when we mentioned dancing," Yemi said. "He'll come out. And if he doesn't, we'll go dancing."

God, Tomilola hoped he came out. If he didn't, the last thing she was going to feel like doing was dancing.

They made their way onto the porch, Yemi and Amaka talking in an animated fashion. Amaka turned to her. "For pity's sake, girl. Smile, laugh, make him think you can't wait to get to the bar and start reeling in hunkly men."

Tomilola forced a smile to her lips and managed a half-hearted giggle. But she was afraid the effort was futile. Demola's car was parked in front of his house, but the house was dark. "I don't think he's home."

Rose threw a covert glance in that direction. "His car's there."

"Yeah, but this is an estate. He could very well be out checking on the cattle."

But Rose wasn't fazed. "He could just as easily be hiding in the dark, watching. Come on."

They chatted in front of the girls' car for a few minutes. But nothing at Demola's moved.

Tomilola sighed, disappointment crashing over her. "If he's in that house, he's not coming out. You guys go on to the club. I'm going back inside."

Amaka grabbed her arm. "No, you're not. You're going with us. If he is in that house, watching, hoping you won't go at the last minute, we're calling his bluff. I bet he shows up at the bar by ten."

Tomilola didn't hold out much hope for Amaka's scenario. Demola had already told her he wasn't much for games. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to fall for this one. But the girls were looking forward to a fun night of dancing, so she crawled into the car, the night stretching out long and gloomy before her.

This aint enof to quench my thirst but i must say diz u're d best romance writer here on nairaland.