by DL White
“Ooh, these are good. I might have to think of a reason to order them.”
“You could create a drink with it. That would be amazing.” He uncapped his bottle and practically poured half of it down his throat, then reached for another muffin. “These are all for me, right? Because I plan on eating all of them.”
“Yes, Wade,” I answered, laughing. “I was messing around in the kitchen, trying to create some things I could carry in the shop. I was thinking about your love for all things orange and remembered I had my grandmother’s recipes. I made a few dozen, to try them out over the next few days.”
“Well,” he said, popping another one into his mouth. “These will be a hit.”
“I’m so glad you like them.” I paused, letting an awkward, too-flirtatious moment pass. “Uh...I heard music when I walked up. I hope I’m not cutting into your work time.”
“Nah,” he said, waving me off. “Don’t worry about that. I’m always working, but you’re never an interruption.”
I blushed. Just a little. Obviously, two were playing this flirting game. “Noted.”
“Especially if you’re going to bring me treats.”
He popped another muffin into his mouth and rubbed the palms of his hands together. “So, you said you just moved out here, but you know so much about the island. Is Black Diamond that small? You already made your rounds?”
“Oh, no. I used to come down here when I was a kid. My grandparents scrimped and saved to buy a little place to retire to. They’re long gone, but I inherited the house when my grandmother died.”
He turned his head to give a respectful gaze to the little red wooden house with the much smaller wooden deck. “That’s nice. Real nice. Your folks are proud of you, I’m sure.”
I almost laughed, but caught myself. “My folks think I’m out of my mind and making a huge mistake. We’ll see, though. What about you? Have you already… made your rounds?”
He chuckled, weaving his fingers together. “I haven’t done much since I’ve been down here, but work. I probably need to take you up on that tour you offered.”
“Probably,” I said, nodding.
“Well… what are you doing tomorrow night?”
* * *
“So you’re from Queens, but you live in Brooklyn now? What part?”
“The Heights.”
Wade kept pace with me as we walked the streets of Black Diamond and I showed him the important sites — the bank, the farmer’s market, the grocery store with the best prices and organic meat, both gyms, and my favorite bakery, Adele’s.
Though it had changed hands over the years, it was still standing, still serving piping hot breads, pastries and muffins. My grandmother and I used to walk to Adele’s on Sunday mornings to get half a dozen donuts, then sit on the deck and eat them. I still feel like she’s with me when I splurge on one of the huge glazed pastries.
“That’s… nice living,” I commented. “Although it’s bougie and upscale.” I nudged him with my elbow.
“Yeah,” he agreed with a grin, nodding. “It’s a far cry from Queens, that’s for sure. How about you? Where’s your family?”
I almost didn’t answer, because for all my teasing about Brooklyn Heights, my family’s neighborhood was no slouch. “We’re… uh… mostly around the Park Slope area.”
Wade stopped in his tracks, tossed his head back and laughed. Loud and hard. “You talked about me being bougie and upscale? Ya’ll live in one of, if not the mostdesirable neighborhoods in New York.”
“Go ahead, tease away. My parents bought a place in the 70s and just… never left. When I was growing up, it wasn’t like that. It was just home.”
“I feel you. I don’t really feel like Brooklyn Heights is any better than anywhere else. I’ve been there so long, it’s just home to me.”
“Gage is in Manhattan, right?”
He nodded his head, slurping down the last of the Frozen Sunshine I had made for him before we set out on our tour. He’d shown up just as I was closing up shop. I liked to be good and gone before the more rowdy evening beach crowd came through.
“Gage’s girl is into nice things and nice places, and Sheree gets what Sheree wants. They have a nice spot, though. Very comfortable.”
“Have you ever… I don’t know, thought about settling down? Like them? Meet a nice girl from Brooklyn, have some kids?”
He shrugged a shoulder as his gaze swept to the sidewalk. “Hasn’t really been on my radar to tell the truth. My job takes a lot of commitment and it’s hard when you do what I do.”
“Hard as in how? Hard to open the door and see the women piled up outside of it?”
He laughed, dipping his head in mock humility. “I mean, I meet women all the time. Comes with the territory. But you can’t just trust everyone you come into contact with. It’s not like out here, where you just believe people are good, with honest intentions. You don’t know people’s motivations. Does she like me? Or does she like what I can do for her or get for her? Hard to tell.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
“Trying to figure it out is a distraction that I don’t need. I date here and there, but I don’t get serious enough to consider making room for her toothbrush, let alone for marriage.”
I laughed at his quip, but also heard the gravity in his tone. I could identify with the sentiment, if not the situation. My family wasn’t overly wealthy—we did alright, but I wouldn’t say we were rich. But even I had side eyed a heavily interested man or two, especially after he learned that I was being groomed to take over the family business.
“Tell you what, though,” he said, brightening. “Those muffins? These Frozen Sunshines?” He shook the empty plastic cup at me. “These are the way to a man’s heart. Mine at least.”
I chuckled, brushing off his comment and that tingle I’d felt the night before. I could not get my emotions tangled up with this man. He was on a plane much higher than mine.
And, I reminded myself, he was leaving at the end of the summer.
“So,” I said, continuing my tour, “over that way is Brightman’s. It’s Black Diamond’s oldest bookshop. They also sell stationery, some music, cool little knickknacks. Even if you’re not a book person, you should drop in there at least once before you leave the island.”
Wade nodded appreciatively. “Cool. I like to get my read on.”
Against my better judgement and all my self-control, my heart bloomed. “Yeah? What do you like?”
“Horror, usually. King is the man. Koontz creeps me out, but I can’t stop reading once I start. Gets my heart pumping. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of… what do they call it? Self improvement. Encouragement. I read Obama’s books. Rich Dad, Poor Dad. Joel Osteen is preppy for me, but still a good word. Sometimes I just need a sentence or two to start my day off.”
“I just started reading a book called You Are a Badass.”
“Nuh uh.” He glanced at me, then laughed when I nodded. “I’m going to need to borrow that when you’re done with it.”
“For sure. I’m almost done. I’ll bring to the shop and you can grab it the next time you’re in.”
“Or… you could bring it by the house and let me treat you to dinner.”
I opened my mouth to quickly decline, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn't tell if he was flirting or being nice. Not that it mattered… did I really have time to be spending with this man?
On the other hand… I knew he was leaving at the end of the summer. He knew he was leaving at the end of the summer. He wouldn’t try to start something knowing he’d have to walk away from it?
Would he?
Thinking back to our conversation about settling down, though…
“I see you over there, trying to figure out how to let me down gently.” He grinned, showing off a perfect smile.
“I’m… not. Actually.” What the hell am I doing? “When you say treat me to dinner…”
“Exactly what I said. Now that I know whe
re to buy good food, I want to go grocery shopping, light up that big ass stove in that big ass kitchen.”
“You cook?” Jesus, help me. “What can you cook? Like what’s a dish you cook well?”
“You ask like you’re expecting me to serve Pop-tarts and Spaghetti-o’s. Don’t worry about it. Just come by on Saturday. Around seven. Is that enough time to close up the shop and get home?”
“Plenty. I’m looking forward to Pop-tarts and Spaghetti-o’s.”
We continued walking, picking up the path that led to the strip along the beach where we’d begun our journey.
“And if you show up without those little orange cranberry things, I’m not letting you in the door.”
6
Wade
I didn’t know what I was doing, to be honest. For reasons unbeknownst to me, because I had no desire or intention of starting something up with Ameenah, I set out to impress her with my culinary skills.
I spent the morning at the grocery store, the afternoon cleaning and cooking. I should have spent the day working, but I’d opened my big mouth and let an invitation to dinner fall out of it, so I had work to do.
By the time the doorbell rang, dinner was ready and so was I. My one-pot pasta with spinach and tomatoes alongside marinated, grilled chicken breast filled the house with a scent so good, it made my mouth water.
“Door’s open!” I called out into the foyer from the kitchen. My hands were in oven mitts and I was getting ready to pull the butter and garlic crusted Texas Toast out of the oven.
For a whole three or four seconds, I forgot what I’d been about to to do. Ameenah stepped into the house in a sleeveless white dress that showed off long, tanned legs and pretty toes in sandals. Her hair was pulled up and piled on top of her head so her curls framed her face.
Her very pretty face with those thick lips that I’d been thinking about way too much, lately. Like how soft they must be. And what she’d do if I tried to kiss her.
She held a bright yellow book in one hand. And in the other was another one of those containers I liked.
“Am I overdressed?”
“Oh…” I glanced down at myself in dark jeans and a shirt I’d wear to go golfing. I cursed myself, thinking I should have put more thought into what I’d put on. “No. No, not at all. You look nice. Come on in, my bread is burning.”
She followed me into the kitchen and settled onto one of the stools that lined the counter. I pulled the bread out of the oven and transferred it to a serving dish. Then I stirred up the pasta and started transferring it into a dish.
“Smells really good in here. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“You’re in for a treat, then. This is one of my mom’s favorite dishes that I make.”
“Oh, it passes your mother’s taste test?”
“Hell yeah. She’s the one who taught me how to make it. Ain’t no sense in putting it on the table if it’s not gon’ taste good, son. Just wasting your time. Do it right.”
She giggled at my imitation of Ma. “My mother likes my coffee drinks. Daddy saves his calories for bourbon.”
“My man. Maker’s Mark?”
“One of his favorite brands, yes.”
“Be nice to have a drink with your old man. Hear all about Park Slope before it was… how did you put it? Bougie and upscale.”
“Get your jabs in now… he’s fiercely protective of his neighborhood.”
I grabbed two serving platters and gestured for her to grab the third. “You don’t mind eating on the deck, do you?”
We settled in and served ourselves, chatting over pasta and fork-tender slices of chicken breast, then had after-dinner drinks while we exchanged stories of growing up in New York — me in Queens, her in Brooklyn.
“You ever live anywhere else? I mean, not just in New York, but the world?”
We had moved inside and away from the mosquitos that seemed to feast on her calves. We settled close together on the love seat in the family room with our drinks and the container of muffins she’d brought.
“I lived about six months in Virginia Beach. We recorded Gage’s second album out there. He was in and out. I got a place down there and just stayed in the studio. Mixing, coming up with beats, new sounds. He likes to bring something new to every project, and I’m with that.”
“It seems to be a philosophy that’s paid off. Who wants to buy an album that sounds exactly like the last album you put out?”
“Right. We don’t do part two of anything. Whole new vibe. Whole new sound. I spent a couple of weeks in Hawaii, some time in South Beach, but other than touring, we don’t travel away from home too much. Everything we need is right where we can get to it. Designed that way.”
“Must be comforting to not have to look too far, to go searching.”
“In some ways, yes. But the status quo has a way of lowering expectations. I can’t do great things in the same old surroundings. I need something new to disrupt the usual, to inspire me.”
“Thus, your temporary move to Black Diamond.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling like I had talked a lot, opened myself up a lot to this woman I barely knew. “What about you? Why uproot yourself and move so far away from your family and everything?”
She reached down to her calf, subconsciously scratching at a mosquito bite. “Like I said, I came down here a lot when I was a kid. I was close to my grandmother and after she died, we never came back here. I just… really missed the place.
“I’ve always worked for my family, with my family. I was supposed to take over Porter Hospitality, co-run it with my brother. When grandmother passed, she left me her house and her shares in the family restaurant group. I really felt like she was telling me something, you know? I just wanted to be close to her, I guess. And I wanted to branch out and do my own thing. Build my dream, not my parent’s dream.”
“That’s dope. I mean, it probably took years to get here, right?”
“She left me the shares ten years ago. I’ve spent the last five years pulling together what I thought I would need to get set up here.”
“I really admire that, Ameenah.” She blushed and waved me off, but I grabbed her hand and held it, letting my thumb sweep over her soft skin. “That’s hard work. Dedication. Laser focus on your vision. And now you’re here. And I don’t know if you’re worried or not, but… don’t be. You’re already past the hard part.”
She didn’t respond for a few moments, and I was worried that I’d offended her. Her gaze was fixed on my hand enveloping hers, on my thumb moving side to side, back and forth. It was hypnotic to me, but I had no idea what was going through her head.
“Wade…” she finally whispered, her voice a little ragged from the two Amaretto sours she’d had. “I’m… I don’t know what’s happening right now. And I don’t know if I should fight it or let it happen. And I don’t even know if you know what I’m talking about.”
“I know.” I gripped her hand and scooted closer, dropping the other arm around her shoulder. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. And… I don’t know what’s happening either, but even if I could fight this, I don’t want to.”
“I… I just… you know, you—”
“I’m only here for the summer. And I’m some big important famous guy that lives in fuckin’ Brooklyn Heights. And I like orange flavored things. Right?”
She huffed a laugh, those pretty brown eyes rolling hard. “Okay, it’s that last part. It’s not that you’re only here for a short time. It’s not that you live in some expensive neighborhood.” She leveled her gaze at me and batted her eyelashes. “It’s your unnatural obsession with orange flavored things.”
“I feel like that’s something we can work out.”
“Yeah. But…there’s the other thing that’s kind of important. And a few days ago, you said you had a hard time trusting women and not knowing their motivation. And that wondering about that is a distraction for you. I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“Ameenah�
��”
“And I don’t need one, either. I might have made it here, but I still have a lot of work to do to call myself a success down here. I have a lot to prove to myself and to my family. I risked a lot to move here.”
“I get that. I’m not trying to be a distraction to you, and if I am, I’ll step back. But before I do, maybe we could just… have some fun.”
“Have some fun?” Her eyebrows rose and her head cocked to the side.
“Not like you think I mean. I’m saying...we get along, we like each other. You impress the hell out of me, and that’s saying a lot. I’m not going to be here long term but… as long as I am here, I’d like to spend more time with you.”
“And… have some fun.” This time, her eyes were narrowed, but her lips were bent into a smile. A small, sultry smile.
“And have some fun. A little beach thing. When the summer’s up….so are we. But in the meantime…”
“A beach... thing.” Her bottom lip crept between her teeth.
“Hold up,” I said, gripping her chin and tipping her head up. “Let me take care of biting that lip for you.”
She released her lip and sucked in a quick breath before my mouth met hers in a soft kiss. I pulled back a little to find her eyes still closed, and I wasn’t all that sure she was breathing. I dipped back again to get another taste of her lips, this time letting my tongue glide along the seam until she opened her mouth. With a moan, I played with her tongue, nibbled at her bottom lip, all while keeping the kiss light and airy.
“Whew,” she said, huffing a breath, placing a hand over her heart, which I hoped was racing. “I uh… wow.”
“Thanks for all of that. Makes a man feel good to know he can take your breath away.”
She laughed, then reached for the last watery mouthful of her drink. She sucked it down and settled back into the couch, almost imperceptibly moving closer to me. Almost.
“That kiss was amazing. And I’m not just saying that because I haven’t been kissed since before Obama’s second term.” I laughed, but she eyed me. “I’m serious. I mean, a peck here and there, but men today don’t know how to kiss.”