Page 11 of Taste The Smoke
“Only two years. This was my grandparent’s home and I moved in to help my grandmother out after her stroke. She passed away at the beginning of the year.”
“I’m so sorry.” The sadness in her eyes let him know she was still grieving.
Kenya nodded. “We were pretty close and I miss her like crazy. People keep telling me the grief will run its course soon, but I don’t know.”
Seeing the pain reflected in her eyes, Alonzo gathered her in his embrace. “Grief has no timetable and everyone deals with it differently, but you’ll eventually find that moving on and still grieving in some capacity can coexist in some way.”
She stared up at him. “Sounds like you should be the psychologist, not me.”
“No. Just life experiences.” He’d suffered the loss of grandparents, close friends and the woman he’d planned to marry, so he understood.
Backing out of his arms, she picked up her purse from the kitchen bar, slung it over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the hook. “We should probably get out of here before we turn this into a mutual therapy session.”
Laughing softly, he said, “Lead the way.”
“Nice ride,” she said after they were settled in the car. “I never would’ve guessed you drove a muscle car. I pictured you in something like a Mercedes or Audi.”
“Nah, I like my muscle cars.” The sound of smooth R&B came through the speakers as he drove them to Fleming’s Steakhouse at L.A. LIVE across from the STAPLES Center. He escorted her inside and gave his name to the hostess. Bending close toKenya’s ear, he said, “Is this okay? I should’ve asked about your eating preferences.”
A smile lit her face. “This is better than okay. I like your style, Mr. Bennett.”
“And I like yours, Ms. Grant.” He tossed her a wink, then gestured her forward to follow the hostess. Alonzo seated Kenya, then rounded the table to sit across from her. Even though it was the middle of the week, the restaurant was crowded.
The hostess handed them menus. “Your server will be right with you.”
“I’ve lived in L.A. all my live but have never been here. Actually, none of my first dates have been in a place like this.” Kenya waved a hand around. “I would’ve been fine with a place like the one we were at on Saturday.”
Granted, he typically didn’t go for an expensive steakhouse on a first date—maybe an upscale bar and grill where they could get to know each other without the commitment of a long dinner— but he’d wanted to this evening to be special for her, especially after she’d been stood up. She needed to know not all men were asses. The fact that she didn’t expect him to spend hundreds of dollars made him glad he’d chosen the restaurant. “Technically, this is oursecond date.” The shy smile she gave him hit him squarely in the gut.
“Okay, second date.” She pointed to the menu. “Everything looks so good. Any recommendations?”
“Depends on what you like.”
She glanced up at him. “I like everything.”
Alonzo leaned forward, staring intently at her. “Is that right? I like everything, too.” Except he wasn’t talking about the food. He likedher.
Her dark eyes widened, then narrowed. “We’re talking about food, correct?”
“Among other things,” he murmured.
Kenya opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not touching that comment.”
He smiled. “Okay. We’ll table it for now and focus on food.” She shook her head and pointed to his menu, but didn’t comment. They went back and forth over the menu and by the time the server came to the table, they were ready to give their drink and food order. “How did your day go?” he asked.
“Not too bad. Because the school year is in session, the kids only come after school, so I spent time with the preschoolers doing art in the morning, before my afternoon group. Today, I asked them to create a silhouette filled with images and words that represent their personal strengths. Along with creative expression, I want them to develop a positive self-identity and self-esteem.”
He loved hearing the passion in her voice when she talked about the students and how she learned just as much from them as they did from her. He had the same passion for his career. “I don’t know how you come up with these activities. You must be an incredible psychologist.”
“I don’t know about that, but the other psychologist at the center is phenomenal with the kids.”
“Speaking of the center, you wouldn’t happen to work at Impressions Community Center?”
Kenya waited until their drinks were served to answer. “I work at Impressions 2 with Dante Powell, but I met Bryson a few months ago. Do you know them?”
“I work with Bryson’s wife, Raven, and I volunteered to go with them on the summer camping trip a couple of times.”
Her eyes lit up. “What a small world. Is Raven a therapist, too?”
