“I don’t know about that. We wouldn’t want your married ex-girlfriend to feel some kind of way,” I jested. I lifted my shoulders to my ears, then took another bite of my amazing burger.
I sat there in silence for a moment. He lifted his fork, then scooped some of the collard greens on his plate. “Yeah, okay, Minnow.”
My chewing paused for a split second at his usage of my first name. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Well, I knew how I felt about it, but I didn’t know if I liked that feeling.
A Short TimeLater
Let’s Take a Little Ride . . .
It’d been well over a month since Minnow had been inPlasters.I asked her what her long-term plans were since she was still atRosebuds. Come to find out, she and Mrs. Cook had come to a monthly rate of $900 and moved her into a suite. They only had two suites which were like studio apartments. I was surprised that Mrs. Cook did that shit since she was mad about the comment Minnow said about her sons. I guess with the inconsistent business that they received, the consistent income trumped her madness.
Minnow made good money with me, so I understood her desire to stay. She made thirty dollars an hour at sometimessixty hours a week. With that amount of overtime, her weekly checks were nice. On top of all that, she worked hard and happily. She tried hard to hide her smile when others looked, but we caught her often. Especially when she dealt with the horses.
We spent most of last week teaching her how to ride a horse. That was an adventure within itself. She was so beautiful when she was up there on Choppa, the horse that had taken a heavy liking to her. Minnow Winters was beautiful period. The other day, my mother got her ass up on her horse and went riding with her. That was amazing to see.
“This apartment is nice, Minnow,” I complimented as I watched her move around. “You said that it came fully furnished?”
She nodded. “Yes, it did. I’ve never been good with the whole putting a house or apartment together. I went from living in foster care, straight into the military. I’ve always lived on base, then here after I medically retired.”
Ah, she grew up in foster care.That let me know that some of the mannerisms that I attributed to the military probably came from her experience as a foster child. The military probably just honed them. “Is that why you rather stay at theRosebudsinstead of finding an apartment in town?”
She shrugged. “I guess, yeah. As you can see, I don’t really buy too many belongings so that I can get up and go. If all I own can’t fit in my SUV, then I own too much stuff.”
That made my brow arch. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. A few days ago, she asked me if I would go with her to Atlanta to get her things out of her apartment. When I told her that she could keep whatever she needed in one of our garages, she told me that she didn’t need to, because she didn’t have that much stuff. As I looked around, I understood.
“Well, you’re a nice addition to have inPlastersand on the farm. I hope you plan to stick around long-term. I know that I would be happy if you did.” I spoke.
Her body was angled so I was able to see her cheeks brighten. She picked up the box that she just taped up. I held my hand out for her to place it there. “I think I would be happy if I did too. You never know what could happen if I stayed longer. I might meet someone that I actually like.”
I tittered. “Or continue to chill with someone you already like. Hey, I don’t have a crystal ball, but at forty-two, I know a lil bit.”
“Oh, do you now?” she asked with a low titter of her own. Let’s see if that lil bit that you think you know is right. That’s all we can really do, I suppose.”
She moved to grab the last box. Thank God her apartment complex had a dolly to help her move. It sped up the move. “Ready to go?”
“Yep! Oh, and to celebrate this move, I’m having you over for steaks. Is that cool?” I asked her.
She hesitated, then displayed a faint smile. “Yeah, that’s cool. How else will I find out if your steaks are truly the best and if you can cook?”
When her brow arched before she walked away, I laughed while my eyes stayed glued to her ass. She was dressed casually in leggings and a tank top T-shirt. Her figure was athletic but still soft. Her ass still had that jiggle that turned heads. Mrs. Cook’s badass sons had a reason to look. They still needed to be punched in their faces though. I guess steak was on the menu tonight.
Steak Is on The Menu . . .
“Why do you keep looking at me?” Minnow asked from where she stood at my kitchen island counter. She didn’t look over her shoulder. It was clear that she felt my eyes.
I snickered before I slowly walked toward her. I deliberately made my footsteps heavy so that she could hear them. I wanted to stand next to her, but I thought better of it. I stood across the island from her. “I can’t look at you? You’re nice to look at. I’m just surprised that you can cook.”
On our way back from Atlanta, we stopped at the grocery store so that I could buy sides for the steaks tonight. Color me surprised when Minnow offered to cook the sides. I shouldn’t have been surprised because she proved a long time ago that she thrived from teamwork. In her mind, she labeled most things as missions. When there was one that needed a squad, she often wanted to be a part of that squad. I loved that quality about her.
When we were in the store, I pushed the cart while she put items in it. The only question that she asked me was what my allergies were. I thanked God that I didn’t have any.
She stopped mixing the bowl of macaroni that was prepared to go into the pan next to it. Her head tilted. “Why would you think that I couldn’t cook, Dawson? I’ve had to pretty much take care of myself my entire life.”
She had yet to refer to me by my first name in a casual setting. At work, we both referred to each other by our surnames. I wanted her to feel comfortable calling me Vic, but I wouldn’t rush her. It would happen when she was ready for it to happen. “Why would that make me assume that you can cook, Minnow? It’s just a pleasant surprise. I can’t wait to taste it all.”
I didn’t plan to cook the steaks until about twenty minutes before everything was done. We both liked our steaks at medium rare, so that wouldn’t take long. She said that the macaroni would take an hour. The steaks were ready to go on the grill. I let her know that I would be on my porch when she finished with the macaroni.
This was a part of my evening routine. I sat on my porch with a cup of coffee. I loved coffee and had mine imported from Ethiopia. That was where I fell in love with it. There was a coffee club that I was a member of that shipped me different coffees from around the world once a month.
