“Yeah, ’cause this stew is so good. It’s my favorite,” Amara announces. “Y’all sit down. We’ll fix it,” she tells me and her friend.
We sit and I watch as Wren and Amara work together to cut our grilled sandwiches in half, fill red bowls with the delicious smelling stew, then place the sandwich halves onto small green plates.
“She loves Christmas,” her friend utters. “Even more than me and that’s a lot ’cause me and Christmas go together real bad.”
“What you said?” Amara asks with a grin, overhearing her friend. “I know you not talking 'bout me.”
“Girl,” her friend replies. “You already know.”
After Amara and Wren place our food on the table, they grab theirs, then our drinks, cold water bottles. Once they are seated, I say grace and we start eating. The conversation is light over dinner. We all enjoy the savory chicken and potato stew and buttery grilled cheeses. I kill my first bowl along with half of my grilled cheese then smash another.
“I told you it was good.” Amara smirks before taking her empty bowl and plate to the sink.
After starting dish water, she grabs her friend and Wren’s bowl and plates. She takes mine about five minutes later when I’m done. Her friend joins her at the sink and they quickly clean the dishes and counters.
“You want something else to drink?” Wren asks before standing.
“Nah. I’m straight.”
“Damn. You gon’ let me drink alone, cowboy?” she asks and I don’t waste any time answering her truthfully.
“I don’t want you to do anything without me,” I say and she flashes me her pretty ass smile.
“Perfect answer.” She walks over to her refrigerator and grabs two Bleu Mountains. She passes both to me and I twist off the tops. She grabs one of the bottles and clanks it to mine. “To tonight’s possibilities,” she utters before strutting out of the kitchen. Like a damn German Shepherd in heat, I stand and follow her fine ass into the living room.
She sits on the large leather sectional and I walk to the fireplace. After adjusting the logs, I join her. When I sit next to her, she crosses her legs and rests her leg on mine. For a moment, we just sit close like this and I take her all in: her sweet scent, comforting vibe, and pretty face. Real shit, I could sit like this with her on me all damn night.
Taking advantage of our closeness, I place my hand on her thigh and gently caress it. I feel her body inch a little closer then she rests her head on my shoulder. After inhaling deeply, she sighs.
“I love your smell,” she says.
“I’ve been out in the barn.”
“I know,” she says before inhaling me again. “But I like it. It’s the perfect combination of you, some cologne I get hints of and manliness. I love it.”
“Well, I like your smell better though,” I say and she lifts her head. As soon as our eyes meet, Amara interrupts.
“What y’all doing?” she asks from behind us.
“Chilling and trying to figure out what’s up with this sweater,” Wren says, then she sits up. She leans over to the cluttered table. “What are you going to do with this string of lights?”
The table in front of the sectional is filled with a red sweater, a white sweater, lights, ornaments, a glue gun, scissors, and so much damn glitter. Amara and her friend round the sectional then get down on the floor. It looks like a big ass mess to me but the two of them seem to have a handle on it.
“I think I’m going to make a tree out of the lights and add ornaments on the lights,” Amara says.
“On which one though? The red or white?” Wren asks.
“I don’t kn—” Amara begins but her friend cuts her off.
“The red for sure. The white is going to get dirty,” she says.
“Me? Dirty! Girl, never! I think the lights will show up better on the white,” Amara says.
“Are they going to be on?” I ask, my curiosity inadvertently causing me to jump into their convo.
“On?” Wren asks.
“No, but can they be?” Amara says after sitting up.
