A Weekend Affair (14 page)

“Are you angry with me?” Diego asked after a few minutes of silence.

I eyed him for a split second, my main focus on the road ahead. Traffic on the highway had slowed considerably because of the rain.

“No, I'm not mad at you. You were right. I need to take a step back, let them handle it, and let the chips fall where they may. But don't let it go to your head,” I quipped.

“Which one?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I shook my head and laughed. “Neither.”

People were pulling off to the side of the road. One thing I realized living in the South was that many of the people were afraid to drive in inclement weather. Being a Northerner, it didn't bother me one bit. Although I slowed my pace because of the traffic in front of me, I kept on going. I wanted to get to our destination as soon as possible.

“Diego?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?” Even though I tried to let it go, I was still concerned about Shell.

“Ask me anything.”

I'd have to remember later on that he said that.

“We touched on this a bit last night, but you never gave me a straight answer. What made Carl approach Shell? Bottom line is I don't want her to get hurt.”

Diego took his eyes off of the road to look at me.

“I'm not going to get into particulars, but like Shell, Carl has his own domestic issues. But believe me, if I thought he was out of line in any way, or was going to do something to put Shell in harm's way, I'd check him myself.”

I felt a bit better after Diego said that, but not by much. I still had a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that even after tonight, this would be far from over.

Torrential rains tore through Hilton Head. The once beautiful white sandy beaches had been turned to mulch as the rain soaked the place. I stared at the TV over the bar as the meteorologist said the rain wouldn't let up until the next day. It was so dark and gloomy that it looked more like ten at night than five in the afternoon.

We were sitting in HH Prime, the beachside dining establishment inside the Omni. On most days you could enjoy dinner while your sensory and olfactory systems enjoyed the sounds and smells of the ocean. The different shades of chocolate brought out the mocha-colored carpet on the floor. The murmurs of other patrons almost drowned out the sounds of the TV. Glasses clinked together as bartenders filled drink orders, which blended with the sounds of servers setting plates and bowls on tables.

“So, we're stuck here,” Gabby stated more than asked.

I watched as she swirled her finger around in her water. Everything she did was like seduction. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her gaze at the TV. Even though she was doing something akin to scowling, it was sexy. I was trying to sit and figure out exactly what was going on with me. I'd met the woman less than forty-eight hours ago, and I couldn't figure her out. Normally, I'd have a woman dead to rights within the first few hours.

“Looks like it,” I answered her.

She sighed and shook her head. In my mind, I imagined her silently cursing her friend Shell for getting her stuck on rainy Hilton Head.

“We're stuck out here with no clothes and no toiletries,” she fussed.

“There is a little gift shop around the corner that sells toiletries. There is also a shop right down the street. Maybe later, if the rain lets up even an inch, we can go there and get you something. If not, there
is
a laundry room. You can use my room to shower and relax until your clothes are done.”

Gabby turned those sultry doelike eyes my way and smirked a bit. “You just have the answer to everything, don't you?”

I shrugged. “I like to be prepared for anything.”

“Duly noted. Thanks for the offer,” she said, then turned back to the TV.

I thumbed my nose. I guess what was puzzling me was the fact that she acted as if this morning hadn't happened. It was like we were back to being strangers. She didn't act as if the sex between us had been worth talking about, which was different. Anytime I'd had one-night stands before, all they could talk about was what we'd done. That was one of the reasons I started leaving before they could wake up or jetted no sooner than we were done.

“I take it that means you'd rather not be here,” I commented.

“What gave me away? The fact that I told you that on the way here?”

I chuckled at her sarcasm. Carl and Shell had disappeared to the spa once they'd gotten here. Who knew what they had talked about and decided on their way over. All I knew was Carl didn't seem to be letting the fact that he was hurt behind what Dali had done to him show. I knew my friend. Knew for a fact that behind this façade was the hurt that the woman he loved hadn't loved him the way he'd thought.

To be honest, I was a bit tickled at the whole thing. Not because I was happy about his pain, but because it had taken him this long to get what I'd been trying to tell him since the day he'd met Dali.

“What's so funny?” Gabby asked me.

I pulled my vibrating phone from my hip . . . frowned when I saw Ricki calling me again. That was twice in one day. What in hell was wrong with her? I glanced up at Gabby.

I shrugged. “Just thinking about something with Carl.”

She quirked a brow. “Since my friend is with Carl, should I know why you're laughing?”

I thought about it for a minute. “I'm not sure.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

I sent Ricki to voice mail, laid my phone on the bar, then took a sip of my Hennessey on ice.

“I'm just surprised he picked her out of all the other women in the club.”

Gabby cocked her head to the side, set her glass down slowly, and glowered at me. “And just what in blazes is that supposed to mean? Are you saying something is wrong with Shell?”

I chuckled at her readiness to defend her friend. “When it comes to that ninja, yeah.”

“What's wrong with Shell? I
know
you're
not
trying to say she's ugly, because you'd be a cotton-picking liar.”

I threw my head back and let out a throaty laugh. “Cotton-picking? Really? What the hell?”

“Yes, I said cotton-picking. I happen not to use vulgarity to express myself if that's okay with you. Now, what about Shell makes it so hard to believe Carl picked her, like he's some almighty prize?”

“She's black.”

Gabby jerked her head back like she had been slapped. She gave me that black woman glare that would send most men running for the hills.

“
Excuse
me?” she retorted. “Say that again.”

“She's black. Carl doesn't usually go for black women.”

Gabby gave me a slow blink, then a blank stare. “But . . . Carl's black. As a matter of fact, he's black in race, ethnicity,
and
color. You mean to tell me a man as black as him doesn't date black women?”

“Carl hasn't seen a black twat since one pushed him out.”

“You're kidding, right?”

I turned my lips down and shook my head. “Nope.”

“So his wife is not black?”

“Not at all.”

She looked to be genuinely offended. You would have thought I'd just told her Carl was a convicted murderer and rapist who just escaped from prison.

“I don't know what to say to that. I just don't.”

“Me either. Black men who don't date black women confuse me too. Not to say that I have anything against it. I just don't get going out of your way to date someone who doesn't look like your mother.”

She nodded, then asked the bartender for a Mojito with black salt before she commented. “I'll agree with you there. I don't either. Makes me wonder.”

“About what?”

“Why Carl picked Shell.”

“Misery loves company, and they seem to be having a great time.”

She chuckled lightly as she shook her head. Her locs swayed against her back, drawing my attention to her backside on the stool.

“If you take a picture; it'll last longer,” she said.

I looked back up at her to see she wasn't even watching me. Her eyes were back on the TV.

“How do you know what I'm looking at? You're not even watching me.”

“I know you see it. You can't help it. You're a man of color. It attracts you like honeybees to flowers and nectar.”

“Bees to honey, you mean?”

She set her glass down and turned to me. “Bees are attracted to flowers and nectar. They make the honey from the nectar and pollenate other flowers with the pollen they get from another. Therefore, you're attracted to a nice round backside like honeybees are attracted to flowers and nectar. Or would like a moth to a flame be better suited to your understanding?” she asked, then shrugged. “It's in your blood, unless you're like your boy Carl.”

I didn't know what to make of all she'd just said. On one hand, I could have taken offense to the way she'd just tried to school me. On the other hand, I could be turned on by the fact that she had a smirk on her face as she visually drank me in. I couldn't be mad at her, though, not when my eyes were feasting on everything that made her a woman. Either way, with Gabby's high cheekbones, she had a naturally smiling mouth. So it was hard to tell whether she was really being snide or not. I could tell her cynical mood was only a defense mechanism, and I was okay with that.

“I'm black, so black women suit me just fine,” I assured her.

“You identify as black?”

My brows furrowed. “What else am I supposed to identify as?”

“I mean, just looking at you, I wasn't really sure, and I know how a lot of Latinos shy away from that side of who they are.”

“Not me. My pops raised me to be very proud of who I am.”

She nodded but didn't say anything else about it. Once the bartender gave her the drink she'd ordered, I told her to put it on my tab, but Gabby stopped me.

“Thank you, but I got it,” she told me.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The bartender didn't know what to do as she looked from me to Gabby. Gabby handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. I really wanted to go upstairs to my room and take a nap, but had decided to stay seated at the bar to keep Gabby company when it was certain that Shell was going to run off with Carl. I didn't want to leave her hanging.

My mind drifted back to Ricki, and I had to wonder if she was about to be tossed aside like all the other women who'd made the mistake of getting too attached. But then again, it was unlike her to call me more than once in a day so I wanted to make sure she was okay.

I sent her a text:
You okay?

I looked up when the lights flickered on and off in the place. Someone squealed. The bartender jumped and looked around. A few people took that as their cue to leave. My palms started to sweat and heart started to race.

“We can go up to the room if you want,” I told Gabby. “And don't worry, I'm not trying to have sex with you. Just wouldn't want you to be caught down here when the lights go out.”

Well, some of that was the truth. While I wouldn't want her to get caught down here alone, it would be great to have her in my room. The woman was fine, and she was an authentic black woman . . . the locs, the fresh glowing face free of makeup, and an ass that swayed to the tune of African and Cuban drums each time she walked. The turquoise color against her chocolate skin made the air around her electric for me.

I couldn't understand for the life of me what would make Carl not appreciate the beauty in a black woman.

“You want to take a walk?” I asked Gabby.

“To where? It's raining like heck out there.”

I inwardly chuckled at her word usage again. “You're natural anyway. Little rain won't hurt. We can walk out to the deck, then find a dry spot in the cabana to chill and watch the way the lightning dances on the ocean.”

She finished her drink and left the bartender another tip. I told the bartender to close my tab. Signed the receipt and left a nice tip of my own. Gabby grabbed up her purse. I asked her to put my phone inside of it so it wouldn't get wet. She did. We made our way through the crowd in the lobby, then swung around by the elevators. Looked like the power surge had put it out of business for a minute. There was crowd gathered there as well. While people were rushing inside from the entrance, I pushed the door open for Gabby so we could head out. We passed by the kids club and spa lounging area. Could see the golf course in the distance.

Luckily, the walkway was covered overhead. The wind still pushed some of the pelts of rain our way but not enough to drench us. That didn't happen until we got to the deck. I'd always been a fan of rain. Something about it was tranquilizing for me. A stroll in the rain made it all the better, unless it was freezing cold. And that was what Savannah had decided to dump on us. I held my jacket over her head as we rushed into the cabana. Good thing it was being kept warm by heaters. No one was there besides the cabana boy. We'd been the only ones crazy enough to do so. Another thing about Gabby that drew me to her. She was daring.

Once we made it to one of the plush white seats, the cabana boy got busy pulling down the covers on the side and zipping them to close us in. He asked us if we needed anything.

“No, thank you. I'm fine,” Gabby told him with a smile.

“I'm cool,” I told him.

“I'll be here if you need me, but just a memo . . . If the elements get too harsh, we'll have to head in,” the blond kid told us.

I nodded as I handed Gabby one of the white towels to wipe the water from her face and neck.

“Too harsh?” she repeated. “What do they call this?”

All I did was chuckle. Couldn't do much else when her baby doll blouse was sticking to her chest. A lace bra that matched the color of her shirt could be seen, along with the dark areola and hardened nipples. She caught me looking. I apologized.

She grunted, then inhaled and exhaled hard. “You do know I'm only keeping you company so Shell won't think I'm trying to spoil her fun, right?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So what about last night?”

She gave a quick shake of her head and an aggravated shrug. “What about it?”

“You had to have sex with me to keep me company?”

“I had sex with you because you were offering it.”

“I was offering it?”

“Yeah. You were being a typical male. You know you're attractive. Probably used to getting whatever you want. So, I figured if you were going to give it away, why not take it. It was just one night anyway, right?”

If I hadn't been so taken aback by her assessment, I probably would have laughed.

“So is that why you were so quick to go back on your stance of no one-night stands?”

She stood, unbuttoned her shirt showing perky brown breasts, that turquoise lace bra, and toned abs. She was in tip-top shape, but that feminism that made her a woman was still intact.

She took another towel and wiped herself down as she told me, “No, but I figured if I was going to go there, it may as well have been with someone who looked decent.”