Page 7 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“Bourbon on the rocks.”
“Got it.”
I walk into my dining area where my mini bar is located and fix two drinks. His bourbon on the rocks and my concoction that I call a strawberry bourbon daiquiri. It’s just bourbon, ice, strawberry syrup, and a few freeze-dried strawberries.
After placing my drink on the kitchen island, I take him his bourbon then head into my kitchen. I take a few sips of my drink to calm my heart and clit palpitations. I don’t know shit about this man besides his name but I’m a thousand percent sure that I want him. I’ve been in Crescent Falls nine months and while this city seems to be overpopulated with fine ass Blackmen, not one has solicited this amount of interest, attraction, and want.
“Are you allergic to anything?” I ask as I pull the skin from my salmon. I’ve decided to pivot and make my own version of a rice bowl.
“No. Nothing.”
“Good. I’m making jasmine rice, salmon teriyaki, with sautéed broccoli and bok choy.”
“Everything sounds good but I’ve never had bok choy,” he admits.
“It’s a leafy vegetable. To me it tastes like spinach and cabbage mixed. It’s crispy and holds up when sautéed. You’ll love my bok choy.”
“Say less. I’ll try it.”
After picking the small bones from the salmon, I cut it into cubes, rub a small amount of teriyaki sauce over them, then season the cubes. I let the salmon marinate while I wash my broccoli and bok choy and rough chop both. Then, I start my rice in the rice cooker. Mincing my garlic and slicing my red onion and bell pepper are next.
Cooking clears my mind, reduces my stress, and releases positive endorphins. It puts me in my happy space and when I’m in my kitchen, I’m in a zone. So much in my zone that I hadn’t realized that Daymir got off the loveseat, walked into the kitchen area, and sat his handsome self in a stool at my island. When I turn around from the stove, I’m startled and caught the hell off guard. Thankfully though, my feet stay planted on the tiled floor and I don’t scream like a banshee.
“Oh shit!” I exclaim. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you get up.”
“I had to come see what smells good as hell in here. I don’t know the last time I had a good home cooked meal,” he says and my curiosity peaks even more.
No home cooked meal does that equal no woman? E-stop it. Not all women cook.
“You don’t cook?” I ask, deciding not to take the “no woman in your life” approach.
“I can cook one thing and I refused to eat a Philly steak every day.”
“Are you from Philly?” I ask as I fluff the rice in my cooker. It’s ready and so is the salmon. I just need to stir these veggies one more time.”
“Philly bred. I’ve only been here two years. You?”
“Originally from North Carolina. Diamond Cove. I’ve only been here about nine months but I love it though.”
“You came here alone?” he asks.
“I did. Did you?” I fire back since he opened the personal-information door I was leaning on.
“Yea. Dolo,,” he says as I place his plate in front of him then I turn to fix mine. “So, you drive a supped-up Challenger, claim to own firearms, can operate on wounded niggas, can cook, and look like this and I’m supposed to believe that no man is going to be coming home from work in ten minutes?” he asks skeptically.
With my plate in hand, I turn to place it on the island counter and to face him. “You can believe what you want but I’m telling the truth. It’s just me and there’s no claim. I have a blickey so don’t get any ideas,” I say then wink.
“Blickey?” he says then a low sexy, deep, chuckle falls from his lips. “This is the first time blickey sounded cute to me.’
“Okay cute. Don’t be fooled. Have guns, will shoot,” I smirk.
“Oh, I’m not fooled,” he says adamantly. “But it’s still cute. No offense.” He smiles and again, I smile too. His seems to solicits mine each time.
I am smiling at him but I’m very serious about my weapons though. I’m licensed to carry and both of my guns are registered. One is in my gun box upstairs and the other is hidden in my baby. A single girl who works crazy shifts and loves night driving can’t be too careful. My brother lost his life because he was alone and gun free. I got my license the day after I buried him.
“Do you want something else to drink?” I ask.
“A water is cool,” he says and I grab two bottles from the fridge before joining him at the island. He takes me by surprise when he reaches for my hand. “I’ll bless the food,” he says and I bow my head. He says grace and I watch as he takes his first big bite. I can tell by the widening of his dark sexy eyes and the surprising smile as he chews that he likes it. His words immediately confirm after he swallows. “Damn. This shit is good.”
