My lips spread into a slow grin when I spotted her in the beat-up, old truck, as soon as it turned into the parking lot. Relief flooded my body as if it’d been waiting just to see her again to allow me to take another deep breath. I’d counted down the hours when I arrived back in town until six o’clock. Business left me swamped, but she remained an ever-present thought on my mind.
I stood from my seat at the table in the center of the BBQ restaurant we were having dinner at, right when she entered the door. She spotted me before I had time to step away from the table. I took all of her in. Her perfectly round head and oval-shaped face, honey brown skin that I could see myself tasting, the gold septum ring, and the perfectly plump lips coated in a light rose color.
She wore a pair of dark denim, high waist jeans, and a pink crop top that read ‘Not Fragile like a flower. Fragile like a bomb.’ When my gaze rose to meet her face again, I surmised she’d picked out that T-shirt for a reason. Etched in the rift across her forehead and the deep frown on those impeccable lips of hers was anger. I briefly wondered if her lips were as soft as they appeared. I hadn’t tasted them as of yet to know, but I was biding my time.
I made peace with the fact that I wanted this woman. For what and for how long didn’t matter.
Tension coiled in my body the closer she moved. She was pissed for some reason. It was evident in the way she walked and the way she didn’t flinch away as she stared me directly in the eye with each step she took. That shit turned me on like a motherfucker. I wondered if she even realized what the hell she was doing.
She didn’t say anything as she approached the table. Simply removed something from her bag and slapped it on the table. At first, I was too busy staring into her hazel eyes to notice or even care to peel my gaze away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she questioned, hand on her hip.
Finally, I managed to look away and peer down at the table to find a single worn, black rope with a knot tied in it. I plucked the cord from the table, my grin widening as I stared.
“You remembered.” I looked back at her.
She narrowed those perfect eyebrows. “Obviously you did, too. I’m willing to bet dollars to donuts that you remembered while I was standing in your office.”
I let out a chuckle and nodded because she was correct. I sure as hell recalled the first time we met all those years ago.
1998
“Grandpa!”
I turned from the dark path I was walking along, toward the shouting girl.
“Grandpa, I can’t find you,” she whimpered.
“What’re you yelling for?” I questioned grumpily.
She gasped, and even in the middle of the night, the light from the moon shone on her eyes.
“Wh-Who are you?” she asked, moving closer.
Frowning, I crossed my arms over my chest, widening my legs. I’d seen Joel position his body in the same way whenever someone questioned him. Especially when he and I got into it. Which was why I was out in the middle of the woods at this time of night.
“None of your business. Who the hell are you?”
She gasped. “Ohh, you said a bad word.”
I looked at this little girl who was almost half of my five-foot height, at only twelve years old. Just a week earlier, the doctor had told my mama that I was above average for my age. “He’ll likely be as tall as his daddy,”Mama said as she brushed her hand through my brown locks.
“I can say anything I want,” I argued, puffing out my chest.
The little girl moved closer, and I could see that she was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a T-shirt meant for sleeping.
“That’s not what my grandaddy told me. He says kids shouldn’t say bad words. He doesn’t let me curse in front of him.”
Lifting my chin, I stared down at the girl. “I don’t care what your grandaddy thinks.He ain’t my grandaddy.”
“Your grandaddy lets you say bad words?” Her eyes were wide as if she were wondering how someone’s grandfather could let them utter the word hell.
I shook my head. “I don’t have a grandaddy.”
Her eyelids fell, and her bottom lip poked out. “That’s a shame. I only got one, though. My friend Rebecca from back home says you’re supposed to have two. But my daddy’s parents died back in Jamaica before I was born. What happened to your grandaddies?”
I cocked my head to the side, arms still folded over my chest, staring at this little girl who’d gone from frightened to inquisitive in a matter of minutes.
