Page 7 of Chosen By a Baller 3: Playin’ For Keeps

For a second, he just sat there, staring at me.

Then, a slow grin spread across his face.

The same grin that usually meant he was about to get on my nerves.

“Nope.”

I frowned.

“Nope what?”

“We getting out the house.”

I pointed at the canvas.

“I was painting.”

“You finished.”

“How you know?”

“’Cause you've been standing there staring at it for the last ten minutes.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.

Because, annoyingly enough, he was right.

“See?” He pointed at me. “Get dressed.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You always trying to boss somebody around.”

“And you always got something to say.”

“Because you hardheaded.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved me off. “Go put some clothes on, ma.”

“Where are we going?”

His grin widened.

“You ask too many damn questions.”

I sucked my teeth.

“And you don’t answer enough of them.”

Kyrie laughed before pushing himself off the couch.

“See? That's your problem right there.”

“What?”

“You don't know how to just go with the flow.”

I stared at him.