Something Worth Fighting For

Something Worth Fighting For

Lena Matthews

No good deed goes unpunished… And no one knows that better than Tisha Nichols, who, out of the kindness of her heart, agrees to style the hair of her nine-year-old neighbor Cami, so the little girl can look good for picture day. Unfortunately, Cami’s adoptive Uncle is far from grateful. In fact he’s down right livid…and far too attractive for Tisha’s peace of mind.

Love thy neighbor… Is easier said than done, especially when the neighbor in question is a sexy little spitfire who gives even better than she gets. Although Jonah is not the type to say he’s sorry, even he can admit when he’s wrong. But the ongoing fight to win custody of Cami has made him cautious and mistrustful of people, even those as desirable as Tisha.

What starts as a misunderstanding turns out to be one of the best things to ever happen to them. Unfortunately, not everyone is as thrilled, and Jonah and Tisha must decide if their newly formed family is something worth fighting for.

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Something Worth Fighting For

ISBN 9781419928307

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Something Worth Fighting For Copyright © 2010 Lena Matthews

Edited by Mary Moran

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication May 2010

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Something Worth Fighting For

Lena Matthews

Dedication

Dedicated to Alexis Patterson and all the other missing children who are gone but not forgotten.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

After School Special: American Broadcasting Companies, Inc.

Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

Emily Post: The Emily Post Institute, Inc.

Ghost
: Paramount Pictures

Gilligan’s Island
: Warner Bros. Television

Hitachi Magic Wand: Hitachi, Ltd.

Hoops and YoYo: Hallmark Licensing, Inc.

Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Corporation

Kool-Aid: Kraft Foods Holdings, Inc.

Motel 6: Accor North America, Inc.

Netflix: Netflix, Inc.

Nick at Night: VIACOM International, Inc.

Oprah
: Harpo, Inc.

Pink Panther
: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc.

Ritalin: Ciba Limited Corporation

The Color Purple
: Warner Brothers

The Little Mermaid
: Disney Enterprise Incorporated

Twilight Zone
: CBS Broadcasting Inc.

Vaseline: Unilever Supply Chain, Inc.

Chapter One

“I need help.”

Tisha Nichols blinked her eyes several times, trying to determine if she was still asleep or if the little girl in front of her, brandishing a hairbrush as if it were a weapon, was real. Stunned, Tisha ran her hand through her sleep-warped hair, not sure what to make of the brown-skinned cherub. She couldn’t be more than twelve. The girl was as thin as a reed with skin the color of milk chocolate and ebony hair that stood as if in salute on top of her head. Tisha didn’t have a clue who she was or what she wanted, and it was too damn early to care.

If the blaring red lights on her alarm clock were right, it had been seven twenty when the first ring from her doorbell penetrated her consciousness and pulled her out of her slumber to answer the door.

Seven twenty, for Christ’s sake. Anyone who knew Tisha knew better than to talk to her before nine, especially on a Sunday or Monday, her designated days off. She’d hung up on her momma for less.

The kid was cute and all, but she was going to have to die.

“Well?”

Taken back by the snotty tone, Tisha raised a brow in irritation. “Well, what?”

“Can you help me?” the little girl repeated, speaking slowly, as if Tisha were dim.

“With what?”

Sighing, the girl waved the brush about, as if the answer was obvious. “My hair of course.”

“Of course…” Tisha didn’t work out of her home, and she definitely didn’t work before ten a.m. “Look, I think you might be mistaken.”

“You do your own hair, right?”

“Yes.” And for the last eight years, a good portion of the women who came through the doors of Q’s Salon, not that Tisha felt the need to give her credentials to a sleep-robbing brat.

“Today is picture day and if I can’t get someone to do it, then Uncle J is going to try, and lady, his efforts aren’t pretty.”

“Look, kid—”

“Cami, okay, not kid. I’m almost ten.”

Almost ten, why didn’t she say so. She was practically grown. Tisha would have rolled her eyes if she weren’t so tired. “Not to be rude or anything, but it’s early.”

“It’s seven thirty.”

“My point exactly.”

“This is an emergency.” Cami’s eyes filled with tears, cracking the tough façade she’d been fronting. “I don’t want to look bad on picture day. Uncle J tries. Really, really hard, but he doesn’t have a clue how to do hair. I can manage ponies fine, but today I want to look pretty. As far as I can tell, you and Mrs. Laine are the only other black people on the block. I was going to ask Mrs. Laine, but her hair looks worse than mine half the time and yours always looks really nice.”

Always looked nice? Tisha wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her before. “You live around here?”

Cami pointed across the street. “Over there. We moved in a couple of months ago.”

Squinting, Tisha looked to where Cami gestured, wondering whom she belonged to. As Cami said, the Laines and she were the only black people on the block. So who did…wait a minute. There was a new guy across the street, but he couldn’t possibly be this kid’s uncle.

He was white.

Or at least Tisha thought he was. He could have been very, very light-skinned. She hadn’t exactly made it over to their house to do the neighborly thing yet.

“You mean the…” Clearing her throat, Tisha tried to think of a delicate way of phrasing her question. “Do you live in the blue house?”

“Yes, Uncle J and I moved in two months ago.”

“Oh.” That explained nothing. Of course, Tisha didn’t require an explanation. This was a colorful world they lived in. Black people came in many different shades, and for all she knew, this little girl could be mixed. Either way, it wasn’t her business, or it hadn’t been until she’d been woken up. “Did your uncle send you over here to ask me to do your hair?”

“No, he was in the shower when I left.”

Not good. “He doesn’t know where you are?”

“I left a note. Sheesh, I’m not a child.”

Of course she wasn’t. “Sorry.”

“So, can you fix my hair? Pleeease.”

Tisha knew even if she slammed the door in the girl’s face right this second and ran faster than time itself, she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Besides, there was something about the smart aleck she liked.

Furthermore, the girl’s hair was a hot mess and there was no way in hell Tisha was going to have the tangled halo on her conscience. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll open my garage door, and we can work in there, in case your uncle steps out to look for you, but you’ll owe me.”

“Owe you, what?” Cami narrowed her eyes as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’ll work that out later.” Tisha extended her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

After a second of hesitation, Cami gripped Tisha’s hand in hers and gave a fierce shake. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Anyone who can survive waking me up this early in the morning without me maiming or killing them has earned the right to call me Tisha.”

* * * * *

There was no way anyone at the shop would believe this. Tisha, normally the Diva of the Salon, was awake, and working in her garage no less, while dishing about the neighbors with an almost-ten-year-old. The strangest part was, she was having a great time doing it.

Cami was a very bright little girl with attitude for days. In a narcissistic sort of way, she reminded Tisha a lot of herself. Even though doing hair on her day off wasn’t exactly Tisha’s ideal way to spend the morning, she couldn’t deny the pleasure she partook from it. There was something very soothing about the steady strokes of a brush in hair. Rewarding, especially when she managed to turn a tangled mess, such as what Cami had been sporting, into a masterpiece.

After untangling Cami’s thick hair, Tisha set about parting the ebony mane down the center, separating a small section in the front for bangs, before she began to braid. They had discussed the quickest style she could wear for a few days with the least amount of effort on Cami’s side.

The best part was, Cami wasn’t tender headed. There was nothing Tisha hated more than working on a kid who whined and screamed every other second. All in all, if she had to perform a favor this early in the morning, then Cami was the perfect child to do it on.

As she began to bump Cami’s bangs with the curling iron, a booming voice yelled out from behind her. “I don’t believe it.”

Surprised at the outburst, Tisha jumped. Reflex and reflex alone kept her from christening the startled girl’s forehead with her curling iron. Frowning, Tisha glanced over her shoulder at the angry man standing in her driveway and sized him up.

One thing was for sure, this wasn’t a pale-skinned black man. He didn’t just have a lot of white in him. He was white. A very good-looking white guy, but a white guy nonetheless. In fact, the only thing black on him was his shoulder-length hair.

“Camille Deseri Mitts, you have some explaining to do.”

“Sit still,” she ordered Cami, who in reaction to her uncle’s tone and words moved to get down from the chair. He might have been the boss of Cami, but Tisha was the one doing her hair.

The man’s brows shot into his hairline. From the look of surprise on his face, he wasn’t used to his orders being countered. His astonishment didn’t keep him quiet though.

“Get over here.” His dark brown eyes were snapping mad as he spoke in a low but fierce tone.

“I said, sit still.” Tisha made quick work of uncurling the iron and spun around, pissed off now. Wielding the heated curler as if it were a samurai sword, she went off on him. “Did your anger make you stupid or were you born that way?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you miss the hot metal I held close to your niece’s head? Or did the long bright-ass orange extension cord attached to the iron distract you like a shiny penny? I mean, could you be more thoughtless?”

His eyes narrowed and his voice hardened. “I was about to ask you the same thing, lady. Have you heard of the Amber Law? Kidnapping?”

“Kidnapping.” Whoa. Nothing cooled her temper faster than the threat of jail time. “No one kidnapped anyone. You’re overreacting.”

“You lose a kid and see how you act.”

Tisha was too annoyed to admit aloud he had a point.

“I left a note,” Camille meekly said. Gone was the bold girl from earlier, in her place was a chastised one.

“A glass mirror doesn’t give you permission. I do. If you ever…” Pausing, he took a deep breath then slowly released it. “What you did was uncool.”

Uncool? And the way he reacted was so cool. Right. Annoyed, Tisha shook her head and began to clean up her mess.

“Sorry, Uncle J.” Cami climbed down from the chair and rushed over to her uncle’s side. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him and hugged him with all her tiny might.

“Sorry won’t get you off restriction,” he said in a gruff tone as he hugged her back.

“Ah, come on.”

“You come on,” he fired back. “I almost had a heart attack while you were over here playing beauty shop.”

Playing. Tisha snorted. They really needed to take their After School Special out of her garage. This was why she didn’t do favors. “Okay, now that that’s taken care of,” Tisha said, garnering their attention. “You can go to school, I can go back to bed, and you, well, you can go to…” Tisha stopped herself from saying more. But she thought it. Boy, did she think it. “Have a nice day.”

His body stiffened with anger once more. “Cami, why don’t you go wait in the house?”

“Okay.” Turning around she flashed Tisha a quick smile. “Thanks a lot for doing my hair.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Tisha made her voice extra sweet to annoy the glaring man even more. And just for kicks, she threw in, “Anytime.”

“I’ll bring you a picture when they get in.”

“You better.”

Cami gave a final wave as she started down the driveway. Unfortunately for Tisha’s piece of mind, the girl’s uncle remained. Tisha waited until Cami was out of sight before she spoke again. “You owe me thirty-five dollars, plus a tip.”

“I wasn’t aware I had to pay someone to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.”

Smug bastard. “No, that part I did for free.” Pissed beyond belief, Tisha turned around and stomped to her kitchen door.

Before she could make her grand exit though, he called out, “Hey.”

Despite knowing better, Tisha spun around. “What?”

“I think it would be wise if you steered clear of Cami from now on. She needs positive influences in her life.”

“Pity she only has you.” Tisha slapped her hand on the button for the garage door. When the motor roared to life, the man jumped back, muttering a vulgar curse under his breath as the door began to descend.

“This isn’t over, lady.”

“The hell it isn’t.” With that parting shot, Tisha walked in her house and slammed the door behind her. “The hell it isn’t.”

* * * * *

As Jonah Glasse pulled into the busy parking lot outside the small building that housed the beauty salon, he released a heavy, disgusted sigh. He didn’t want to be here. Hell, he could think of a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t be there, yet here he was, nevertheless.

Apologizing was the right thing to do. The only thing to do if he wanted to live in peace and harmony. Cami was a ruthless dictator, hell-bent on making him do the proper thing. Not for the first time, Jonah wanted to curse his deceased foster brother and wife for actually taking the time to rear their kid well.

Not only did Cami have an innate sense of right and wrong, she also, for some unknown reason, felt the need to make sure he always did the correct thing as well. It was as if he were living with a mini Holy Roller at times. If he cursed, she gave him a level look that made him feel about two inches tall. If he left his clothes lying about, she’d shake her head sadly, as if he were breaking her heart. And if he accidentally yelled at their neighbor for doing him a favor, she hounded him day and night.

Jonah knew his life would be forever changed when he was given custody of Cami, he just didn’t know it would be this much. Not that he’d do anything different about it now, other than prevent the car accident that had killed her parents, of course.

Gilbert. For the first time in a long time, Jonah could think of his foster brother and best friend and not feel as if the air were being sucked from the room. They’d met when they were twelve, both sent to live with the same foster family. Although it seemed as if they were as different as night and day, they’d become fast friends. When they graduated from the system at eighteen, they’d stayed in touch, never losing their special bond.

It was so special in fact that not only was Jonah Gilbert’s best man in his wedding to Tia, Jonah was also there, pacing the waiting room the day Cami was born. There was no place on earth he’d rather have been. Her birth couldn’t have been more important to him if it were his own wife delivering their child.

It was only natural Gilbert had asked Jonah to be the spirited girl’s godfather. Although he considered it symbolic, he hadn’t really been surprised to discover they’d made it legal as well. And when Cami’s parents passed away, he took her in gladly. There was no way he’d ever allow her to enter the foster care system as Gilbert and he had. She deserved better than that.