Jeneva smiled, reaching a warm palm out to caress Bridget’s shoulder. “Yes, you should. I promise you. It’s going to be just fine.”
“Why you cryin’?” Alexa asked, little-girl concern painting her expression. “Why Auntie Bridget cryin’, Mama? She hurt?”
Jeneva smiled, leaning to kiss her child’s forehead. “Auntie Bridget is happy. She and Uncle Darwin are going on a date.”
The child’s gaze moved from her mother to her godmother. “You not supposed to cry when you go on a date. Quincy didn’t cry when he went on his date,” the child said, referring to her twenty-one-year-old brother.
Jeneva rolled her eyes skyward. “Quincy didn’t go on a date.”
“Yes, he did. Daddy said.”
Bridget laughed. “When did Mr. Quincy go on a date?”
Jeneva winced. “It wasn’t a date. They just had a dance at the school and he met one of his friends there.”
“Her name’s Tasha and Quincy says she special like him,” Alexa interjected.
Jeneva pointed an index finger at her friend. “Don’t you say one word,” she hissed softly.
Bridget laughed for a second time. “Well, he is of age, Jeneva. You knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“You sound like my husband.”
“I bet she’s a sweet girl.”
Jeneva shrugged her shoulders. “She is sweet but she has as many developmental issues as Quincy has.”
Alexa interrupted. “Are you gone kiss Uncle Darwin? Daddy says when you go on a date with your boyfriend you get a kiss.”
Jeneva’s look was incredulous. “I know your father did not say anything like that, girlie! When did he say that?”
“Quincy asked him if he could kiss Tasha and Daddy said that if Tasha gave her permission that he could give her a kiss on the cheek at the end of the date. Daddy said!” the child pronounced before turning back to her godmother. “You gone kiss Uncle Darwin on the cheek, Auntie Bridget?”
Jeneva shook her head. “You wait until I get my hands on that man!” she exclaimed.
The two women burst out laughing.
Alexa’s hands flew to her hips. “Well?”
Catching her breath, Bridget reached over to give the child a quick tickle. Alexa giggled, falling over onto her side between the two adults.
“I don’t know, girlie. But if I do I’ll make sure to tell you.”
Alexa stood up on the mattress, reaching to wrap her arms around her mother’s neck. “Uncle Darwin is my man,” she said, her precocious tone rising with enthusiasm.
“You don’t have a man, Alexa Tolliver. You’re too grown with your fresh self. And Uncle Darwin is your uncle. He can’t be your man.”
“Yes, he can.”
“No, he can’t.”
The little girl pouted, moving from her mother’s neck to Bridget’s. She pulled her small fingers through Bridget’s hair. “I’m gone wear a pink dress on my dates, Auntie Bridget. You should wear a pink one, too.”
Bridget giggled. “Girlie, you’ve got good taste. Come on,” she said, rising from the bedside and extending her hand in the child’s direction. “Come help me pick out the perfect shoes.”
Minutes later with shoes and dress in hand and little Alexa distracted in front of the television set, Bridget sat back against the bed. She leaned her head against Jeneva’s shoulder as her friend draped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“I’m too old for this, Jay.”
The other woman laughed. “No, you’re not. Thirty-eight is hardly old. Things happen for a reason and obviously this is your time. Stop worrying about it and go have some fun.”
“But…”
“But nothing,” Jeneva interrupted. “Darwin is a great guy! You like him and he likes you. You won’t know how far the relationship will go until both of you actually go through the motions of moving it someplace. So, go get pretty and just think about having a good time.”
Bridget nodded. “Were you this nervous with Mecan?”
“You remember how anxious I was,” Jeneva said with a light chuckle. “If you and Roshawn hadn’t been there to help me get ready I’d probably still be trying to figure out what to wear.”
“You did look good.”
“It was the scarf.”
The two women laughed.
“Okay,” Bridget said, moving to peer into the other room to check that Alexa was still planted in front of the cartoon station. She sat back down, drawing her legs up beneath her buttocks.
“What about sex?” she whispered. “I mean…you know…” She paused, taking a deep breath.
Jeneva smiled, shifting herself back against a pillow. “When you know it’s right there won’t be anything to worry about. You’ll know exactly what to do, and how to do it, and it will be the most amazing experience. Just trust your instincts.”
“But it’s been so long.”
“It hasn’t been fourteen years. I had a fourteen-year dry spell to make up for, remember?”
“Maybe, but the last time I was with a man was what? A year ago? And you remember how badly that turned out. That brother fumbled like it was his first time. I barely got a wham and a bam before it was all over. Instead of thanking me he should have been apologizing and begging for my forgiveness. That’s the last time I bother with anyone from the D.A.’s office.”
Both women suddenly burst out laughing at the memory. Jeneva clutched her chest, tears swelling in her eyes. “Okay…okay…” she sputtered as she sucked in air. “Okay, you have a point there.”
Bridget wiped her own eyes, tears of laughter misting her cheeks. “Exactly. What if it’s that bad?”
“It won’t be. It’s Darwin and he’s related to Mecan, and my Mac…well, you get the idea,” she said with a wide grin.
Bridget rolled her eyes.
“It’s not Darwin I’m worried about. What if I do something to turn him off? I might take my clothes off and he sees that I have cellulite on my thighs, or my breasts are too small, or…”
“Give it a rest!” Jeneva exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Darwin likes you. If and when you two ever get naked with each other he will love everything about you. Trust that. Now go get dressed or you’re going to be late. And hurry up so I can see you before I have to take the girl home so her daddy can spoil her some before her bedtime.”
Bridget heaved another deep sigh and reached for her dress. “If you say so.”
As she headed toward the adjoining bathroom she turned back toward her friend and smiled. “Thanks, Jay. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Chapter 6
Bridget maneuvered her car through downtown Seattle toward the district of Madronas where Darwin lived. His directions were precise, right down to the mileage. She took the left and right turns onto Aurora and Denny Way, crossing over to Boren and Pike Streets until she pulled in front of his condominium unit.
The buildings were new Craftsman-styled townhomes with lots of curb appeal. The neighborhood was immaculate and decidedly upscale. There was an abundance of neighbor-friendly activity in the area and Bridget noted the couples and families out for an evening’s stroll or headed toward the quaint shopping district.
Easing out of her car, she hesitated for just a quick minute, pausing to adjust the back of her mint-green, A-line shift neatly against the length of her body. Her nerves had kicked into high gear somewhere around the intersection of 15th Avenue and Union Street. She felt nauseous, her stomach twisting in one hundred different directions. Good sense told her she was being foolish, but in that moment, anxiety was prevailing.
She hesitated one last time just before pushing the doorbell with a freshly manicured index finger. Darwin and the cutest Maltese puppy greeted her. Both seemed overly excited to see her and the minute Darwin smiled, her name floating over his lips, she felt at ease.
“Bridget, welcome,” the man gushed, the small dog squirming anxiously in his arms. “Come on in.” Darwin leaned to p
ress a quick kiss on her cheek and Bridget suddenly thought about Alexa.
“Thank you. Who is this?” she asked, reaching to take the animal out of his grip. Pulling the bundle of fur to her chest, she hugged it easily, the dog’s exuberance igniting her own.
“That’s my guard dog. Her name’s Biscuit.”
“Hi, Biscuit. Aren’t you too cute!”
Biscuit yipped, delighted by the attention.
“I didn’t know if you liked pets or not. I was just about to lock her in my bedroom.”
“Don’t you dare! I love dogs. If I had the time to care for them I’d have two or three myself. I’m not partial to cats though,” she said, making a face.
Darwin found the gesture amusing and he chuckled, leading her into a tastefully decorated family room that was situated adjacent to an open kitchen area. Taking a quick glance around the space, Bridget was impressed with the custom cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances and solid granite counters. Shiny, copper-bottomed pots hung from an intricate rack on the ceiling. They gleamed beneath the warm lighting, looking as if they’d never been used. The rich color of the Brazilian cherry floors also made a nice impression, and Darwin’s tastes were very simple, an eclectic mix of artifacts from his travels around the world.
Her eye was drawn to the painting over his fireplace and as she stood staring at it, the puppy cuddling comfortably against her chest, she could only shake her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me you collected Holston? That’s a wonderful piece!” she exclaimed, turning to stare at the man.
Darwin shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you. In fact, I actually tried to buy the one you have in your living room. You beat me to it. I ended up getting the one that’s in my bedroom instead. I’ll give you a tour later on so you can see it.”
She nodded as he gestured toward a plush recliner in the corner of the room. Just as Bridget moved to take a seat he stopped her. “That’s Biscuit’s favorite spot. Just drop her there.”
Bridget laughed. “Okay,” she said as she placed the dog on top of a pillow and watched as she settled herself comfortably down.
Darwin gave her a quick wink. “You can’t get comfortable yet. We have a meal to make. So, as soon as you wash your hands we can get started. I’m hungry.”
Bridget looked surprised, her mouth open slightly as she stood staring at him. “What happened to you cooking me dinner?”
The man’s warm laughter made her smile, a wide grin filling her face.
“I am cooking. You’re just going to help.” He pointed to the sink. “There’s plenty of soap in that dispenser,” he quipped, moving to wash his own hands.
As Bridget moved to his side, he continued talking. “When you’re cooking, it’s important to pay attention to basics such as hand-washing, proper storage temperatures and cleanliness. Food safety is critical. You don’t want to risk making anyone sick.”
“Really,” Bridget said with an eye roll, tossing him an annoyed look.
Darwin grinned down at her, the heat from his broad body spreading to her own. Shutting off the water, he pulled her hands into his, gently wiping away the dampness with a cotton towel. Bridget’s gaze met his as he brushed the soft fabric across her palms. “Most definitely,” he said, his voice dropping a half octave.
“So,” Bridget said, her voice cracking slightly as she moved to withdraw her hands from his, sidestepping her sudden wanting. “What are we cooking?”
Darwin chuckled. “Salad. You cut the tomatoes and I’ll prep the lettuce.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I kid? Are you afraid to make salad?”
Bridget raised her eyebrows. “No. I can make salad.”
“Good. We need a nice leafy vegetable to go with the beef short ribs and the corn bread.”
“I’m not cooking the ribs and the corn bread, I hope?”
“Oh, heck, no! Didn’t you tell me you could burn water?”
Bridget swatted a hand in his direction. “You’re not funny, Darwin. You’re not funny at all.”
The two laughed, chatting easily together as they put the finishing touches on the meal. Their conversation flowed like water, the joy of Bridget’s laugh warming his spirit. As they sat down to dinner he discovered they had much in common. Bridget was a jazz buff, her knowledge as proficient as his. They admired and collected the same visual artists, and she was an avid football fan, the Seattle Seahawks her favorite team. The mutual interest could make for some interesting Monday-night football games, he mused.
Bridget grinned as if thinking the same thing. She broke off a small piece of her cornbread and dipped it into a line of brown gravy that covered her plate. Lifting the delicacy to her mouth she ate it with gusto, even pausing to lick the tips of her fingers. She hummed softly and Darwin grinned back.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal,” he said, chuckling warmly.
“It’s very good,” she responded, laughter shimmering in her eyes. “I guess you can tell I do like to eat.”
“I like a woman who attacks her plate with such enthusiasm.”
Bridget laughed. “I don’t play when it comes to my food so you tease all you want, Darwin Tolliver. Your cute comments don’t faze me in the least.”
“What!” the man responded, feigning ignorance. “I was being serious. I wasn’t teasing.”
Bridget rolled her eyes as she lifted a glass of lemonade to her lips, sipping a taste of the ice-cold drink. She shook her head. “So, when did you know you wanted to be a chef?”
“I was twelve and my father had taken me and Mac to a barbecue competition in New Orleans. There was this old man there who was just working this old, beat-up grill he’d manufactured out of a metal barrel. We were standing in the crowd watching him and out of the blue he invited me and Mac to come taste test his chicken and steaks.” Darwin shrugged, his broad shoulders jutting skyward as he continued. “I was hooked from that moment on. I wanted to cook and feed people and enjoy the expressions on their faces when they’d been satisfied with a good meal.”
Bridget smiled. “What was the first thing you ever cooked?”
Darwin laughed. “It was a dish called Chicken of Seven Seasonings. I got the recipe from this old cookbook my mother had and thought I’d surprise the family by making dinner.”
“Were they surprised?”
“That’s putting it mildly. The meal was so bad that my father actually got up from the table, tossed his plate out into the yard to the dog and walked out of the house.”
“That’s awful!” Bridget exclaimed, her eyes widening.
The man shook his head. “Actually, the food was that bad. The dog wouldn’t even eat it,” he said with a hearty laugh.
Bridget shook her head, laughing with him.
“So why did you become an attorney?”
“My father. From the day I was born he would introduce me to people as his daughter, ‘the future attorney.’ He wanted me to be a lawyer and I wanted to please him.”
Darwin eyed her warily. “Now, Bridget, you don’t seem like the type of woman who does something simply because a man wants her to. Even if he is your father.”
“No,” she said, her mouth bending into a slight smile. “I’m not. But my daddy could be a very convincing man. He wanted to be a lawyer and it just never happened for him so he made it happen for me. I saw his love for the law and I eventually fell in love with it, as well.”
“And you like what you do? Practicing law makes you happy?” Darwin asked.
Bridget nodded. “Extremely,” she said, her gaze meeting his.
He was finding it difficult to take his eyes off of her. As she talked, her enthusiasm for her subjects radiated from her eyes, the dark orbs gleaming brightly. She asked a lot of questions about him, his career, his love of good food and his family. Her interest seemed to come from someplace genuine and the gesture filled his spirit.
He was interested in her, excited for the opportunity to discuss her
career, her lifelong friendship with the two women who all referred to themselves as the Dynamic Divas and her family. And she made him laugh, her keen sense of humor a nice match to his own. They were joking about his dog as he began to fill the dishwasher with dirty dishes.
“So, why didn’t you get yourself a manly dog?” Bridget asked. “Something with a large bite?”
“What are you trying to say? Biscuit’s a manly dog!”
She laughed.
“I can’t believe you’re making fun of my animal. Keep it up and I’ll make her bite you. Then you’ll see how manly she is.”
“I’m so scared!”
“Get her, Biscuit!” Darwin chimed, pointing in Bridget’s direction. “Get her, girl!”
Biscuit looked from one to the other then laid her head back down against the cushioned seat.
Bridget burst out laughing again. “That sure is one dangerous dog!”
“She’s afraid if she bites you, she’ll catch something. I can’t fault her.”
“I beg your pardon!” Bridget exclaimed, her hands falling to her lean hips. “Oh, no, you didn’t!”
Darwin bumped his shoulder and arm against hers, teasing her side with his hip. “Oh, yes, I did.”
Bridget reached into the sink and flicked a palm full of water at him. Reaching for the sink’s sprayer, Darwin aimed it in her direction, laughing heartily as he prepared to shoot.
Giggling, Bridget ducked in defense. “Don’t you dare,” she said with a wry laugh, her hands posed defensively in front of her.
Reaching for her, Darwin pulled her body toward his, the two pretending to wrestle against each other. Biscuit barked excitedly from her seat, wanting to join in the fun. With a quick twist, Bridget claimed the sprayer and pumped the handle. Darwin jumped as cold water hit him squarely in the face and chest.
“Oops!” Bridget laughed.
Darwin sputtered, swiping at the moisture with the back of his hand. “You’re going to get it now,” he cried as Bridget dropped the sprayer back into the sink and raced into the family room. She positioned herself at one end of the chenille sofa, placing the upholstered unit between them.
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