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Ain’t that a bitch! He’s supposed to be fat, bald, and ugly dammit!
“London, Kat? That’s where you been?” He cocks a thick eyebrow. “And why don’t you just say it’s your apartment? I don’t speak London.”
Here we go with the jokes.
“You speak English, don’t you, Tommy?”
“Not proper English, no. We don’t say apartment here either. We say ‘partment. Damn… you’re bougie, Kat.”
I grin stupidly at him. “I am not bougie, not even a little bit in jeans and sneakers. You are though, with your fancy restaurant and clothes. I can see the bottom of a suit under your chef’s coat, too. Just admit it, you’re the one bougie. It hurts more to deny it.”
He shakes his head. “I feel no pain, woman.”
I do. Just looking at his beautiful ass cocoa complexion under his low haircut with waves that causes seasickness if you stare too long at them makes me ache in certain places that are rude to mention in company. Well, I am staring, and my damn knees are starting to knock.
Shit! He’s still too good looking!
Then he grins. That smile is almost my undoing, except it’s not ladylike to jump taken men or damn near strangers in public, so I restrain myself, barely, and commit to small talk. Until I can prove otherwise, I’m going with he isn’t single.
“So how is everything?”
His smile slips away. “Good as can be… I think. How about you?”
Why is it he doesn’t know? It would be too forward of me to ask though—I’ve only been here for a hot second, too soon to dive into his affairs.
“
Things are as good as can be for me, too.” And that’s not an endorsement for how I live, but he doesn’t know that. Suddenly, I wish I’d taken Orion up on his offer. Yeah, well, I didn’t, so I just have to suck it up that Tommy is doing great, and I’m not. “I see Tommy’s is booming like you always wanted it to. Congrats on that.”
He beams a grin so bright at me I almost reach for my Versace shades in my purse, but then I’ll look crazy wearing them in the low lighting. This is a proud, happy man before me. Well, kudos for him. At least one of us has a life worth living outside of work.
I tap my fingertips on the countertop, hoping to drum up another subject. One comes easily to mind. “What’s good here?”
Tommy gives me an ‘are you serious’ glower, eyes threatening to jump out of his head again. “Everything is good here. I’m fucking offended and should tell you to leave for asking that, Kat,” he jests.
Maybe he isn’t joking. Tommy takes his cooking seriously, if nothing else, and even then, he’s the best company to be in. When he isn’t cheating.
Right about now, I wouldn’t mind being the other woman, but I won’t be. Not many people merit the pain that comes with finding out a significant other is giving their goodies away. The most important reason for my visit arises in my mind: I want to know why he wrecked us for Benita, of all people. Wasn’t I good enough for him? What did he need that I wasn’t giving him?
It’s too soon for such an in-depth discussion though, so I ogle his mouth rudely. “I’m not leaving before I’ve eaten, reserve the right to sit in your shit, demand service, and deny you the privilege of kicking me out until I’m full.”
He leans over his hands braced on the countertop. “Lady, I will call the cops on you. You don’t scare them.”
But I scare him, huh?
I erupt with laughter. Respect for the relationship he may have is the only thing keeping me from leaning towards him. He’s sucking me in, as usual. Not good, and I know he doesn’t need the cops to evict anyone from his business. Tommy may be silly, but he taught his sisters and me to kick ass if we need to. I don’t think anyone knows that but me and a few members of his family. He’s not one to gloat about anything but his cooking, more lover and provider than fighter who’ve I’ve missed bantering back and forth with.
He could always take my bad day and make it one of the best, then try to suck my brain out between my thighs. Oh yes, I’ve missed that too, have gone too far with the memories, and probably forgotten more than I remember of his techniques to defend myself, so yeah, not fighting with anybody… anywhere. I throw my hands palm up, calling for a truce with Tommy and with my brain determined to remind me of things best forgotten. There’s no better place to eat in Arrow than wherever he owns the stove.
“Ok, I’m begging you to feed me. I’ll even pay you. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I don’t do flight rations at all, not even after ten hours. Rather starve, and that’s what I’m doing, so have some pity please.”
He turns sideways, eyeballing me. “Humph. Let me think about it. I’d have fed you for free if you hadn’t insulted me with ‘what’s good here?’ Lady, you bumped your head in the bathroom somewhere miles high over the ocean and forgot who I am in the kitchen. The motherfucking boss. Don’t forget that shit again or we’re gonna have problems.”
I know how he likes to solve them too. Where. And what position I’m usually in when he takes his retribution. It used to be a game I played to see if I could piss him off just so he’d make love to me with aggression. There’s two sides to Tommy: the silly and the aggressive man that demands almost every inch of you in the bedroom. He did of me anyway. I’m surprised he didn’t leave enough seed in me to negate the birth control pill I took faithfully before I left Arrow.
Somehow, I’ve always known I’d never make a baby with any other man. Yeah, well, that’s no longer an option if I ever want kids. I’m going to have to accept that…one day, hopefully before my eggs start boiling inside my ovaries.
Then he chuckles. “Come on, let me seat you, Kat. I’ll give your mouth an experience you won’t ever get in London.”
