Always Means Forever

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Bridget looked surprised, her mouth open slightly as she stood staring at him. “What happened to you cooking me dinner?”

The man’s warm laughter made her smile, a wide grin filling her face.

“I am cooking. You’re just going to help.” He pointed to the sink. “There’s plenty of soap in that dispenser,” he quipped, moving to wash his own hands.

As Bridget moved to his side, he continued talking. “When you’re cooking, it’s important to pay attention to basics such as hand-washing, proper storage temperatures and cleanliness. Food safety is critical. You don’t want to risk making anyone sick.”

“Really,” Bridget said with an eye roll, tossing him an annoyed look.

Darwin grinned down at her, the heat from his broad body spreading to her own. Shutting off the water, he pulled her hands into his, gently wiping away the dampness with a cotton towel. Bridget’s gaze met his as he brushed the soft fabric across her palms. “Most definitely,” he said, his voice dropping a half octave.

“So,” Bridget said, her voice cracking slightly as she moved to withdraw her hands from his, sidestepping her sudden wanting. “What are we cooking?”

Darwin chuckled. “Salad. You cut the tomatoes and I’ll prep the lettuce.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I kid? Are you afraid to make salad?”

Bridget raised her eyebrows. “No. I can make salad.”

“Good. We need a nice leafy vegetable to go with the beef short ribs and the corn bread.”

“I’m not cooking the ribs and the corn bread, I hope?”

“Oh, heck, no! Didn’t you tell me you could burn water?”

Bridget swatted a hand in his direction. “You’re not funny, Darwin. You’re not funny at all.”

The two laughed, chatting easily together as they put the finishing touches on the meal. Their conversation flowed like water, the joy of Bridget’s laugh warming his spirit. As they sat down to dinner he discovered they had much in common. Bridget was a jazz buff, her knowledge as proficient as his. They admired and collected the same visual artists, and she was an avid football fan, the Seattle Seahawks her favorite team. The mutual interest could make for some interesting Monday-night football games, he mused.

Bridget grinned as if thinking the same thing. She broke off a small piece of her cornbread and dipped it into a line of brown gravy that covered her plate. Lifting the delicacy to her mouth she ate it with gusto, even pausing to lick the tips of her fingers. She hummed softly and Darwin grinned back.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal,” he said, chuckling warmly.

“It’s very good,” she responded, laughter shimmering in her eyes. “I guess you can tell I do like to eat.”

“I like a woman who attacks her plate with such enthusiasm.”

Bridget laughed. “I don’t play when it comes to my food so you tease all you want, Darwin Tolliver. Your cute comments don’t faze me in the least.”

“What!” the man responded, feigning ignorance. “I was being serious. I wasn’t teasing.”

Bridget rolled her eyes as she lifted a glass of lemonade to her lips, sipping a taste of the ice-cold drink. She shook her head. “So, when did you know you wanted to be a chef?”

“I was twelve and my father had taken me and Mac to a barbecue competition in New Orleans. There was this old man there who was just working this old, beat-up grill he’d manufactured out of a metal barrel. We were standing in the crowd watching him and out of the blue he invited me and Mac to come taste test his chicken and steaks.” Darwin shrugged, his broad shoulders jutting skyward as he continued. “I was hooked from that moment on. I wanted to cook and feed people and enjoy the expressions on their faces when they’d been satisfied with a good meal.”

Bridget smiled. “What was the first thing you ever cooked?”

Darwin laughed. “It was a dish called Chicken of Seven Seasonings. I got the recipe from this old cookbook my mother had and thought I’d surprise the family by making dinner.”

“Were they surprised?”

“That’s putting it mildly. The meal was so bad that my father actually got up from the table, tossed his plate out into the yard to the dog and walked out of the house.”

“That’s awful!” Bridget exclaimed, her eyes widening.

The man shook his head. “Actually, the food was that bad. The dog wouldn’t even eat it,” he said with a hearty laugh.

Bridget shook her head, laughing with him.

“So why did you become an attorney?”

“My father. From the day I was born he would introduce me to people as his daughter, ‘the future attorney.’ He wanted me to be a lawyer and I wanted to please him.”

Darwin eyed her warily. “Now, Bridget, you don’t seem like the type of woman who does something simply because a man wants her to. Even if he is your father.”

“No,” she said, her mouth bending into a slight smile. “I’m not. But my daddy could be a very convincing man. He wanted to be a lawyer and it just never happened for him so he made it happen for me. I saw his love for the law and I eventually fell in love with it, as well.”

“And you like what you do? Practicing law makes you happy?” Darwin asked.

Bridget nodded. “Extremely,” she said, her gaze meeting his.

He was finding it difficult to take his eyes off of her. As she talked, her enthusiasm for her subjects radiated from her eyes, the dark orbs gleaming brightly. She asked a lot of questions about him, his career, his love of good food and his family. Her interest seemed to come from someplace genuine and the gesture filled his spirit.

He was interested in her, excited for the opportunity to discuss her career, her lifelong friendship with the two women who all referred to themselves as the Dynamic Divas and her family. And she made him laugh, her keen sense of humor a nice match to his own. They were joking about his dog as he began to fill the dishwasher with dirty dishes.

“So, why didn’t you get yourself a manly dog?” Bridget asked. “Something with a large bite?”

“What are you trying to say? Biscuit’s a manly dog!”

She laughed.

“I can’t believe you’re making fun of my animal. Keep it up and I’ll make her bite you. Then you’ll see how manly she is.”

“I’m so scared!”

“Get her, Biscuit!” Darwin chimed, pointing in Bridget’s direction. “Get her, girl!”

Biscuit looked from one to the other then laid her head back down against the cushioned seat.

Bridget burst out laughing again. “That sure is one dangerous dog!”

“She’s afraid if she bites you, she’ll catch something. I can’t fault her.”

“I beg your pardon!” Bridget exclaimed, her hands falling to her lean hips. “Oh, no, you didn’t!”

Darwin bumped his shoulder and arm against hers, teasing her side with his hip. “Oh, yes, I did.”

Bridget reached into the sink and flicked a palm full of water at him. Reaching for the sink’s sprayer, Darwin aimed it in her direction, laughing heartily as he prepared to shoot.

Giggling, Bridget ducked in defense. “Don’t you dare,” she said with a wry laugh, her hands posed defensively in front of her.

Reaching for her, Darwin pulled her body toward his, the two pretending to wrestle against each other. Biscuit barked excitedly from her seat, wanting to join in the fun. With a quick twist, Bridget claimed the sprayer and pumped the handle. Darwin jumped as cold water hit him squarely in the face and chest.

“Oops!” Bridget laughed.

Darwin sputtered, swiping at the moisture with the back of his hand. “You’re going to get it now,” he cried as Bridget dropped the sprayer back into the sink and raced into the family room. She positioned herself at one end of the chenille sofa, placing the upholstered unit between them.

They were playing like schoolkids racing in circles around the room. Darwin paused at the other end of the sofa, mischief painting his expression.

“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked, breathing heavily. “Can’t you catch me?”

“Oh, I will catch you!” Darwin exclaimed.

The moment was interrupted by the ringing telephone. The duo stood eyeing each other, both refusing to move as it rang a second and third time.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Bridget asked. “It might be important.”

Darwin grinned. “I have voice mail,” he responded, lunging toward her.

Bridget jumped out of his reach. The answering machine clicked twice then Darwin’s seductive voice filled the room. “I’m not in. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back.” The machine beeped and a woman’s voice replaced his.

“Mr. Tolliver, this is Yvonne from Dr. Page’s office. Your sample of Viagra is ready for pickup, but the doctor would like to schedule an appointment to speak with you first. We’ll be back in the office tomorrow after eight o’clock, if you would please give us a call. Thank you.”

The answering machine clicked off, the sound of the tape rewinding suddenly piercing through the quiet. Even Biscuit could sense the quick change in atmosphere, a blanket of embarrassment clouding the room.

“Well,” Darwin said, clearing his throat. “If this isn’t an awkward date moment, I don’t know what is,” he said, turning back into the kitchen.

Bridget was at a loss for words as she followed behind him.

Darwin met her gaze as he returned back to the sink and the last of the dishes. His humiliation was acute and if it were at all physically possible he would have dug a deep hole in the center of the room and buried himself beneath it.

They continued to stare at each other as she eased into the room, moving to stand by his side. Reaching for the dishcloth, Bridget swiped the last bit of moisture from a freshly washed pot resting on the dryer rack. Darwin heaved a deep sigh.

“I guess I should have answered that call,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

Bridget smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got a personal problem,” she said smugly, humor brimming in her tone.

“Oh, so you’ve got jokes now.”

She shrugged. “It’s always been my experience that when something like this happens, if you can laugh about it, then you won’t be inclined to cry about it.”

Darwin leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, now that you know my most embarrassing moment, what was yours?”

A moment of reflection crossed her face. Her smile widened to a full grin as she leaned against the countertop beside him. “I had just passed the bar exam and it was my first week with Hartley, Liebermann and Stone. All the attorneys were in our weekly review meeting and I was making a presentation on a new case I’d been assigned.

“I really thought I had things under control. New suit, Roshawn had done my hair the night before and I was working it. Well, I’m doing my thing and all of a sudden one of my new microbraids falls onto the conference table. Then another, and another, and before I realize it I have a trail of yaki hair following me around the room.

“One of the partners reaches down, picks one up, examines it, and says, ‘Miss Hinton, I think you’re shedding. Please see if you can get a handle on that problem before you have to go before Judge Baines. He’s bald as a cucumber and might think you’re poking fun at him.’ I was so embarrassed!”

Darwin laughed. “So, we will really laugh about this in a few years?”

“I thought we were laughing about it now.”

The man smiled, reaching to draw a warm palm against her arm. “Thank you.”

“Besides,” Bridget added, “you probably don’t remember, but this isn’t nearly as bad as when you and I first met and I tripped into the room, right into your mother’s lap. That was my second most embarrassing moment.”

Darwin closed his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his full lips. “But I do remember the first time I saw you,” he said softly, his voice just a hair shy of a whisper. “You were wearing a pair of those capri pants. They had a drawstring waist and your hands were pushed deep into the pockets. They were green, army green, and the shirt you wore was a pale floral print. It had these thin straps and one of them had fallen off your shoulder. I remember that I wanted to touch you. I was thinking that all I had to do was push that strap back onto your shoulder and that could be my excuse to touch you. I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” He opened his eyes and stared into hers. “Should I continue?” he asked, an air of seduction rising in his tone.

Bridget hadn’t expected the comment and she stood staring at him, her mouth parted ever so slightly as a look of awe washed over her expression. A wave of something she couldn’t quite name twisted slowly in the pit of her stomach. Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to speak. She inhaled deeply, then tried for a second time. “You have a good memory.”

Darwin grinned. “Only about the things that are important to me.”

The man continued to stare at her and the room suddenly felt as if it were spinning in slow motion. Darwin swallowed every inch of her with his eyes, his gaze stroking each curve and dip of her body. He could see her quiver and he stepped in closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. Once she was in his arms he couldn’t begin to imagine the moment that he would have to let her go.

Bridget slid her palms over his biceps, the muscles solid beneath her touch. Her hands looked small against his arms and she felt safe and secure with them wrapped so tightly around her. She hugged her own arms around his neck and pulled him closer, lifting her mouth to his.

The kiss was tender, a sweet brushing of his mouth to hers. Neither moved, both lingering in the beauty of that first touch, the sensual glide of a duet they were starting to dance. Darwin deepened the embrace, drawing her even closer as he pressed his body anxiously against hers, his lips moving with more intensity against her mouth.