4. Spencer
SPENCER
Day Two
I watched her walk toward the table—not even being cool about it.
Not bothering to try to play it off. Soleil had my full attention as she breezed past tables and chairs filled with laughing and talking patrons.
The knit tank top she wore hugged the fullness of her breasts, while the linen shorts skirted the curve of her hips.
I could see the pink of her toes peeking out from her sandals, and the sway of her hair as she moved.
The thing that really kept me stuck on her was the smile she wore.
She was beautiful when she wasn’t smiling, but when she smiled?
Her eyes lit up, and her dimples became even more prominent on her face.
Not gonna lie, I could’ve stared at her all damn day.
I stood up when she reached the table. That was some old-fashioned-ass shit to do, but for some reason, it was what I did. It was like my mind told my body that, when the baddest woman in the entire resort walked into the room, you should stand. “Good morning,” I said to her.
Since I was standing, she took the opportunity to hug me for the first time.
Standing up was a good call. I pulled her into me.
She was so damn soft that she was almost .
. . cushy. Most women were soft—particularly in contrast to me because my job required me to be hard and muscular.
But she was softer than that, and I knew the second that she melted into me that the way she felt was going to cause a problem for me.
It would make it hard for me to keep my hands to myself . . . respectfully, of course.
“Good morning.” She took a deep breath.
“Did you just sniff me?” I released her from the embrace to look down at her.
She grinned, giving me an up-close-and-personal encounter with her dimples. “Nah, I just breathed in, you know? Inhaled. But you do smell good.” She dropped down into the seat across from mine and set her purse in her lap.
“Thanks,” I responded to her compliment. “You look good.”
“Thank you. How do we order? Is it a buffet or something? I’m starving.”
Before I could tell her that somebody would come by to take our orders, a waitress appeared.
During the off-season, I wasn’t as strict with my diet as I was during the season.
Still, I never went buckwild. I always tried to pair good carbs with protein.
The waitress actually turned to me first, but I gestured toward Soleil.
“Um, I’ll have the egg white scramble with bell pepper, cheese, and onions. I’ll have the fruit parfait with Greek yogurt and berries, and I’ll have the Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries. Please put extra butter on the side.”
I remembered that she told me, the night before, that she and food had a compatible relationship.
I wasn’t even surprised that she ordered her waffle with whipped cream and extra butter.
It only struck me because the last few women I dated would’ve never let whipped cream or butter anywhere near their mouths.
They counted calories. They prioritized a high-protein intake and minimized carbs as much as possible.
Soleil ordered like the girls I knew back home in Michigan, the ones who piled their plates with whatever they wanted when we had pancake breakfast fundraisers in the high school’s gymnasium.
Thinking about those times made me smile on the inside.
Life was simple as hell back then. Life was still much simpler in Jackson Bluff, Michigan, than it was in most places.
I placed my order with the waitress—medium steak, egg white scramble, melon fruit bowl (which was half of a cantaloupe scooped out and filled with cantaloupe, honeydew, and watermelon balls), and breakfast potatoes.
Once the waitress walked away, I turned my gaze on my companion. “You remind me of the crib.”
“Of Chicago?” She grinned big.
I had to laugh because they obviously pumped something into the air in the Windy City to ensure that Chicagoans loved Chicago.
You couldn’t tell them shit about it, and they loved any similarity between themselves and the city.
“Nah. I meant my hometown, Jackson Bluff, Michigan. It’s real .
. . real there. It’s just normal. Nobody flexing.
Nobody trying to be . . . I don’t know, bigger than the program.
You’re that vibe. Normal. Just yourself. ”
She smirked. “I remind you of home, Mr. Charles?”
She was teasing, but her question rang true. She actually did remind me of home. “In the best way,” I told her, starting to understand the pull I had toward her. It was the familiarity of something, someone genuine.
“Thanks.”
It was my turn to smile big at her. “You’re welcome.”
“Spencer?”
“What up?” I glanced across the table at her since she called me by my government.
“Are you single? I mean, not just on this work trip. Are you single in your real life? I don’t—”
I stopped her. “I’m not seein’ anybody.”
“Okay. I just wouldn’t want pictures of us together to get out if you’re not. I don’t need the internet investigators digging into my background or dragging me.”
“Is there something in your background they could find and run with?”
She barked out a laugh. “You tryna trick me into tellin’ you something, sir?”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Ay, I’m just asking.”
We talked some more about her favorite aspects of her job, and my favorite aspects of mine.
I learned that she was an only child who was raised by her father.
I shared that I was the middle of three kids.
My older brother still lived in Jackson Bluff, married to his high-school sweetheart, and raising four kids.
My younger brother lived in Chicago and worked as an attorney. I was his biggest client.
The servers brought our food as we talked.
“So—” she spread butter on her waffle—“do you have team obligations today?”
“I do. This morning, we’re playing a round of golf on the resort’s exclusive course.
” I held out my hands so she would take them.
When she did, I prayed. “Thank you, Lord, for this food we are about to receive. We ask that you bless the hands that prepared it. May you bless it for the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”
“Amen.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Why didn’t you bless the tacos yesterday.”
I stared back at her. “Come on, Sunshine. You know good and well that you had that taco in your mouth before I could get two words out.”
She cracked up. “Forget you.”
“Anyway, what are you doing today?”
“First, I’m getting a massage. Then I’ll probably lie on the beach. After that, it’ll be nap time or something.”
“This evening at 7:00 p.m., I’m supposed to participate in the culinary class. It’s for couples. I’m hoping you’ll meet me there.”
She swiped a lock of hair behind her ear as her eyes moved up to mine. “Seems like you’re trying to tie up my free time here at Quietude Resort and Spa on Iredia island.”
“You caught on to that, huh?” I chuckled.
She tapped her temple with her pointer finger. “That’s that college education at work.”
We both laughed. “Majestic Ballroom, 7:00 p.m.”
“I’ll be there,” she assured me, her eyes holding mine.
I looked down at our workstation, the ingredients for the menu—tomato bruschetta; arugula and citrus salad; roasted herb chicken breasts; and strawberry ripple cheesecake for dessert.
“What do you think?” I asked Soleil.
She waved her hand dismissively. “We got this, boo.”
“You a good cook?”
“I’m an excellent cook.”
“Cool. Okay, I picked the best possible partner . . . fine, and she can cook.”
She playfully pushed me on the bicep. “Stop trying to make me blush, Spence.” She took a beat. “And thank you.”
“Turn around. Let me help you tie your apron.” If she was as good of a cook as she claimed she was, I knew she could tie her own apron. It was just an excuse to touch her, be close to her.
She gave me her back, and I tied her apron. Her perfume wafted up to my nose, and I bent a little at the waist to get a stronger whiff.
She turned around slowly and made eye contact with me. “Uh, did you just sniff me?”
“Nah,” I lied. “I just, you know? Inhaled.”
“Whatever.”
The chef gave us our instructions, and after moving over to the sink to wash our hands, I joined her back at our workstation. “What’s first?”
“Why don’t you start on the salad?” She handed me the recipe card.
It was mainly just assembling the ingredients, then making the vinaigrette. “I feel seen.” I tapped my chest dramatically. She roared with laughter, causing the other students to look over at our workstation with curiosity. “Stop drawing attention.”
She scoffed. “Stop being hilarious.”
Since I wasn’t really known for my hilarity, that comment hit me in the chest. Damn. She thought I was funny. My ego puffed up a bit.
I watched her handle dicing up the tomatoes while I created a bed of arugula in the bowl.
Once they were diced, she poured the tomatoes into a bowl where she had already added olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
I laid orange slices on top of the greens, while Soleil minced garlic and tore fresh basil into pieces.
Yeah, she definitely knew what she was doing in the kitchen.
I smiled internally at the thought. She was fine, thicker than a motherfucka, could cook, and was as soft as cotton when I touched her.
I didn’t know what the long-term held. All I knew was that I had her for the next five days, and in that time, . . . I wasn’t coming up off her.
“We make a good-ass team,” I told her after swallowing a bite of the most flavorful chicken I’d had in a minute.
She finished a bite of her bruschetta. “The best. You killed on that salad, boo.”
I chuckled lightly. “You’re right. I created a bed out of that arugula like no other. And the way I laid those oranges on top? That shit was a masterpiece.”
She practically choked on her food, coughing and sputtering until she cleared her throat. “Stop.”
“You know what? You’re good for my ego. Nobody else acts like I’m funny, and I got you over here choking.”
“Haters.” She threw me a wink, and it was my turn to guffaw. “Even though the last thing you probably need is more ego.”
“What? You think I gotta big ego?”
She studied me silently, taking a bite of her chicken. “No. You’re really down to Earth.”
“Thanks.”
She looked around. “I don’t think too many of these couples did as well as we did with their dinner. I mean, we’re over here smashing, and they’re playing with their food.”
“Well, they all couldn’t have you for a partner.”
She smiled at me, and I felt really lucky. Not just because my food was good as hell, but because I got to make it with her and spend time with her.
We finished up dinner, and each had a slice of the no-bake strawberry ripple cheesecake we made. It was after 10:00 p.m., and I had an early morning of team obligations.
“Damn, I hate to have to wrap this up, but they got us facilitating a mini-camp workout for these potential donors and fans early in the morning.”
“No worries. I’m running outta steam, too. I have a mud bath and facial scheduled in the morning. In the afternoon, I’m doing a flower-arranging class.” She cut her gaze up to mine. “Hopefully we can at least meet up for dinner.”
We both stood from the table. Without even thinking about it, I caught her hand in mine as we left the ballroom. As we made our way through the lobby, we spotted Wilcox with two blonde women.
“Damn,” he said when he spotted me and Soleil. “You really ain’t gon’ let nobody else get a turn? What’s up, Thigh Meat? You savin’ some for me?”
I stopped walking right in front of him. “Dawg,” I said lowly through gritted teeth. “Let that be the last time you say anything to her on this fucking island. If we have to revisit this again—”
He sucked his teeth. “Nigga, fuck you . . . and her. I’m just making jokes. You see I got these two bitches with me. Ain’t nobody thinkin’ about her.”
“Then shut the fuck up talkin’ to and about her. Keep your fuckin’ mouth closed before I close it.”
“Fuck you,” he repeated.
“Fuck you.”
Soleil and I resumed walking. “He’s an idiot. You didn’t have to say anything,” she told me.
“Yeah, I did. Because he needs to know how I’m coming behind you. He’s not about to keep sayin’ slick shit every time we run into him. If he’s comfortable saying that shit in front of me, what you think he’ll say if he sees you by yourself? Nah, he needed to understand. Now, he does.”
We took the elevator up to the seventh floor.
“My room’s right here.” She led me to a room on one of the two wings.
We stopped in front of her door. Her back was to the door as I stood in front of her. Both of her hands were inside my hands now. “Listen. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. Thanks for making a wonderful dinner. Thanks for being good company.”
She blushed.
I bent down and captured her lips, then my tongue invaded her mouth, finding hers and exploring her.
She melted into me, and again I was struck by her softness, her plushness.
Before I knew it, my hands were buried in her hair.
She moaned in my mouth. I deepened the kiss until I remembered that we were in the hallway.
Regaining control, I gently broke our connection. “I want all of the time you’re willing to give me, Sun.”
“Same.”
“Tomorrow, I’m not meeting you in the lobby or at the restaurant or none of that. I’m coming here and picking you up like the dude my parents raised me to be.” I took my phone out of my pocket. “Pull up your contact card.”
We tapped phones so we would have each other’s info.
“Tomorrow night.” I placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Tomorrow night,” she repeated.