Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“I had made some canned chili like I told you.” She pointed to the stove. “But I’ve literally put that on the back burner. I’ll save it for lunch tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s cute.” He smirked, shaking his head at her corniness.
“You like what I did there? I’m a comedian. I’ll be here all night,” she teased. “Anyway, you said you were going to cook for me though, so, uh, where’s your groceries and stuff? You just came over here all unprepared and shit.” She patted her tummy.
“I never said I was bringing any groceries. I’m going to use things you already have here and come up with somethin’.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, as if he were the dullest thing on the planet. The move made her breasts jiggle.
Well, look at that. She doesn’t have a bra on. Damn, she got some big titties, and they’re just sittin’ up like that? Doesn’t that defy gravity or something?
“You are so sexy.”
“Legend, you said you wanted to talk and cook, so get to it.” She rolled her eyes once again, picked up a wine cooler, and walked away, leaving him in the hallway.
He headed to the kitchen and looked around, surprised she didn’t give him a tour or a lay of the land at least. Guess I have to figure out where everything is. That meant she was pretty comfortable with him. He opened the refrigerator and sized it up, then the pantry. After making a few quick mental notes, he nodded to himself. Okay, I know what to do.
Twenty-three minutes later, he approached her with a plate filled to the brim with fragrant, hot food.
“Here you go, baby. I cheffed it up a little bit. Breakfast for dinner.” He set the plate down in front of her, then placed the same spread down on the coffee table for himself. Her cheeks plumped, and those amazing dimples took over.
I love her smile.
“So, what we’ve got here is a nice, fluffy Western omelet with three cheeses… used a bit of heavy cream. Lil’ bit of jalapeño, some mushrooms… I know how you like mushrooms. On the side, I fried up some crispy turkey bacon, and then we got two mini strawberry pancakes. There was only a little batter available, and I wanted them to be thick and fluffy, so I just made us two small ones instead of one big, flatter one. On the other side of the plate there, I’ve got you some homemade hashbrowns from those potatoes you had, and added some shredded cheddar cheese, a lil’ hot sauce, a dollop of sour cream and scallions. The secret ingredient is the queso sauce I folded into them. Added some paprika for a little smokiness and color, and a pinch of red pepper.”
“You know this looks good!” She picked up her fork and scooted closer to the table. “I can’t wait to try it all.”
He went back into the kitchen, grabbed his drink, then returned to her. Reaching into his jogging pants pocket, he pulled out a wad of napkins and sat it down on the table between their plates. Saddling beside her on the couch, he picked up his fork and dug in. He could feel her eyes on him for a while, but then she started eating too. She went quiet then—a good sign. Not long after, her plate was clean, and that told him all he needed to know.
“That was delicious. It didn’t need any extra salt or pepper. Nothing. You’re really good at seasoning. I noticed. It’s always perfect. Never too much or too little. Thank you for that.” She picked up one of the napkins and dabbed at her lips.
“Glad you liked it.”
“I’ll be right back.” She got up, grabbed their empty plates, and walked into her kitchen. “Hold up… Legend, you washed all the dishes you used, too?”
“Yeah.” He reached for his glass of lemonade while looking at the television, and took a taste.
“When did you have time to do dishes? And you could’ve just used the dishwasher, but thank you anyway.”
“I clean as I go. Sometimes dishwashers don’t get everything. Nothing better than some good ol’ elbow grease.”
“Yeah, that’s true sometimes,” he thought she said.
The kitchen spigot water was on full blast, drowning out the clarity of her words. While she rinsed their plates, he picked up the remote control and channel-surfed, only half paying attention. Meanwhile, he studied the room, noticing baby photos of someone he presumed was her daughter. There was a picture of the child at what appeared to be a preschool or kindergarten graduation. She’s got a pretty little girl. Looks like her mama…
There were also some older photos that he guessed were of Desiree at a younger age, holding a baby in her arms. There were other family photos, too. Black people of all hues, shapes and sizes. He looked closer at a child in one of them, who had to be her. She was the only one not smiling. On another wall hung a framed GED certificate. Next to it was a degree from some college he couldn’t make out, next to some sort of certification.