“Got it,” Edmund said again. What was with this girl? It was just a name. Damn.
“But I wasn’t named after Maude from the TV,” Maude went on. “I was named after my grandma.”
“I said okay!” Edmund said it with irritation in his voice that was not unlike the tone he used on subordinate doctors at the hospital who got out of line.
And Maude was equally offended as they were. “You didn’t have to yell. I was simply making my point.”
“You’ve already made your point. Ten times over. You’re a young lady with an old lady’s name similar to that old lady on that old TV program. But only you weren’t named after the old lady on television, you were named after your old-assgrandmother. Why your mother would name you after your old-ass grandmother is a mystery to me in this day and age ofShaniquaandKeishaandBenisha. But she named you Maude. And here you are.”
Maude stood there stunned by his lack of any kind of filter, or even fake diplomacy. And he was a doctor no less who was supposed to master good bedside manners. She thought she was the only person who lived without all those expected filters, a condition that got her in so much trouble down through the years. Including with her aunt many moons ago. But seeing herself in that big man at the door was more than enough to shut her up.
But not before getting in a last word. “Actually she named me Maudetta,” she said.
Edmund inwardly smiled. She was quick. He liked that about her. And he was still wondering why he had that strange, initial reaction to him. As if he somehow knew this girl. But he didn’t go there. He remained silent too.
But their silence left dead air and awkwardness in the space between them as she just stood there, and so did he.
Edmund, for his part, didn’t know what to make of her as she stood there. She came across as such an odd sort of person to him. Even her face was unique. Not bad unique, but different. That silky smooth, deep-toned brown skin. Those huge eyes with naturally long lashes that looked so innocent, but yet her eye color was a smoky, sensual hue, and was as deep brown as her skin. It was as if there was a kind of understated vibe about her that made her in some ways a gorgeous seductress of the first order, and in other ways that simple, all-American girl next door. But that contradiction somehow worked on her. It made sense on her.
When her eyes glanced away from his eyes, as if she was still getting over his uncompromisingly harshness, he tookthe opportunity to look down the length of her slender frame. She had the kind of curves he required, although not nearly as exaggerated as he preferred, but she was definitely bed material. She definitely had what it took.
But contrary to what Teri had said, she really wasn’t his type at all. Although his undeniable preference were indeed African-American women, that was where any similarity between her and his ladies began and ended. Because all of his ladies weren’t just beautiful black women, but they also held a level of sophistication and elegance unmatched by most. And although this girl standing in front of him was a tad younger than his type, in his view she was completely void of any serious sophistication or elegance. From his vantage point she was a fashion disaster with her thick ponytail and her jeans and tennis shoes and her sleeveless blouse that should have been tucked inside of her trousers but was half-in with the other half just hanging out there. She was a mess. And one thing that was never going to be his type in any variation was a project. Which she most certainly would be to be with him.
But he was still baffled by her. Because if she was as horrid as he was convincing himself that she was, then why did that intense feeling come over him when he first laid eyes on her? Where did that come from? What was that about? And why was she standing on his front porch at his front door at this time of night in the first place? “I still don’t understand why you’re here,” he finally said to her when she refused to light the fire of his temper with any more one-sided conversations.
She looked at him once more. But as soon as she did, that sensation of warmth and a kind of jubilance rolled over him again. Which took him by surprise again!
“Natasha asked me to come,” she said.
When she said that name, any warmth he might have felt for her quickly dissipated, and he almost slammed the door in her face.
But as a reporter, she was used to doors slamming in her face. She quickly spoke up before he got the chance. “She’s been arrested. She’s in serious trouble, sir.”
When she saidarrested, that slowed his door closing. When she saidserious troublethat stopped it altogether. Which gave Maude some hope. The last thing she wanted was to have traveled all that distance only for him to shut down any chance of helping the way Natasha’s so-called friends did.
So she kept talking. “That’s why I came all this way from Dillon. Nineteen hours by bus. Because you’re her last hope. You’re all she has.”
The last “project” he wanted to get entangled with was that sister of his and her constant drama, but their dysfunction wasn’t this lady’s fault. And she had come so far.
He opened his door further, and finally allowed Maude to come on in.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After motioning for her to have a seat in one of the archtop chairs in his living room, he began heading for the bar. “What would you care to drink?” he asked as he walked.
“A Pepsi would be awesome,” Maude said as she sat in the chair with her shoulder bag on her lap.
Edmund almost stopped in his tracks. A Pepsi? “I don’t think I have that particular beverage. Try again.”
“Then any soda will do.”
Edmund was behind the bar. She could tell she was irritating him once more. “Try again.”
But she really didn’t want any liquor. Not in a stranger’s house. Besides, who would offer somebody a drink but didn’t have soft drinks? “Water will do,” she said, although she really wanted a soda.
Edmund assumed she didn’t drink, but he didn’t care enough to ask her either way. He poured himself a glass of champagne. “Do you prefer your water bottled or in a glass?”
“A glass will do,” Maude said.
