Promises to a Stallion (Kimani Romance) by Deborah Fletcher Mello Page B

wouldn’t I have a band?” Tierra asked, annoyed with his tone.
    Travis smiled. “I imagine you would have hired an orchestra for the ceremony. A few violins, some flutes, maybe a cello or two.”
    “You’re so smug! Since you need to know so badly, we had a harpist, and I’ve already called her to cancel.”
    “A harpist! How did I guess?” A wide grin rolled across his face a second time as he changed the subject. “So, where are we off to?”
    This time Tierra smirked. “You wanted to ride shotgun, Sergeant, so ride. Today, you’re going to get what you asked for.”
    Travis’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Should I be scared?”
    The beautiful woman beside him chuckled warmly. “Now that’s an understatement!”
    Minutes later, Tierra pulled into the driveway of her grandmother’s home. The small cottage was a welcome sight, with its bright arrangements of flora that decorated the landscape. Her grandmother’s gardens were the pride of the neighborhood. Even beneath the graying sky, the saltbox architecture gleamed with light and warmth.
    Deloriann Braddy was standing at her kitchen’s sink when the two entered the immaculately decorated home. She was a robust woman dressed in a floral housecoat and satin bedroom slippers. From her large eyes and full cheeks down to her thick legs and wide ankles, everything about her was round in a pleasant, soft dough kind of way.
    Her personality filled the room with a vibrant energy. The warmth she exuded was almost contrary to the new stainless-steel appliances and rich ebony color of the granite counter tops. Deloriann Braddy was more like the exterior of her home, with its brightly painted shutters, sweeping porches and massive floral beds, each conflicting with its newly redecorated interior. Tierra noted the look on Travis’s face, reading his mind.
    “My brother and I had it gutted last year. We gave her new bathrooms and a chef’s kitchen. She wouldn’t let us change the home’s footprint or the exterior, though.”
    The woman’s gregarious voice boomed warmly. “Didn’t need all these bells and whistles, but I can’t tell you young people a thing. Y’all think you know it all.” She turned to focus a curious eye on Travis, wiping her hands against a cotton dishcloth as she did.
    “So, who’s this young man?”
    “Good morning, Mama Dee,” Tierra said, reaching to kiss the woman’s cheek. “This is Travis Stallion. Travis, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Deloriann Braddy.”
    “But everybody calls me Mama Dee,” the matriarch said as she wrapped Travis in a large hug. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Stallion.”
    “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am, and please, call me Travis.”
    The woman paused briefly, still studying him before she responded, ignoring his request. “So, Mr. Stallion, how do you take your coffee?” Mama Dee asked, reaching for an empty mug and a freshly brewed pot of caffeine. “You do drink coffee?”
    Travis smiled ever so slightly as he nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. Cream and sugar, please.”
    “Sit down and make yourself comfortable, son,” she said as she poured hot coffee in the cup she held in her hand and set it and a saucer down on the table in front of him. She pushed a container of milk and the sugar bowl toward him as she sat down with her own cup, sipping lightly at the hot fluid. “So, how do you and my granddaughter know each other?” Mama Dee asked.
    Tierra smiled, pulling up her own chair to the table. “Travis is Damien’s platoon leader,” she said. “He came all the way to Dallas to tell me Damien didn’t want to marry me.”
    Mama Dee laughed loudly. “You already knew that, granddaughter. Damien didn’t need to send his boss to deliver that message.”
    Tierra rolled her eyes, a full pout pulling at her mouth. “Thank you, Mama Dee.”
    “It really wasn’t like that,” Travis said in his own defense. “I have family here in Dallas that I’m visiting while I’m on leave. Private