loading . . . #WipSnips 8.31- faith: "Sometimes you got to have a will to live." Anthony and Booker were across the room at a table dressed in a red-and-green checked plastic tablecloth, both plates loaded down with food. Now that I wasnโt distracted by the shit show that was brunch, our newest employee could occupy my thoughts. Anthony hadnโt said a thing about a new trainee.
Well, he could have, but Anthony had been long-winded since college. I tuned in and out.
Soโฆ Booker was good looking. Let me be honestโthat man was fine. In a way I wasnโt used to.
Tall, but not a giant like most of my exes. A rich reddish-brown skin tone, not a dark mahogany or a light caramel. Stocky, muscled, but not in a trying-to-get-cast-as-the-Black-Panther way. Booker was a strikingly handsome, random guy I might pass on the street.
But I wouldnโt expect to see him on the street, so Iโd trip over myself on the double take.
More than his outward, Sterling Brown-esque appearance, it was the little things that niggled at that sensitive spot in the small of my backโthe gentle strength in his hand when I shook it; the baritone of his voice and the light accent when he spoke that told me he wasnโt from around here.
Iโd never made a habit of dating coworkers, but allowances could be made for exceptional cases. When youโve dated the same guy for ten years, not from around here counted as exceptional.
I slid a paper plate with my paltry selections into a spot next to Anthony and dropped into a chair.
โYou have a death wish,โ I commented, directed at Anthonyโs plate. โYou too,โ I added, angling my chin in Bookerโs direction.
โWhat I have,โ answered Anthony, around a mouthful of food, โis a system. See, I found out who was bringing what. And from that, I deduced who can cook and who has a clean kitchenโโ
โThereโs no way you can knowโโ
โYou can if you donโt hide in your office all the time.โ
โI have the largest accounts, half of which are yours. I donโt have time for potluck investigations.โ
Anthony laughed, biting off a chicken wing. โIf you get to know people, you know whose food you can trust.โ
โI trust Faithโs food, my mamaโs food, and my food. What about you, Booker? You donโt seem scared.โ
โWell,โ he drawled, stretching out the word while stirring a bowl of red beans and rice, โI figure it like this: Iโve eaten boudin, frog legs, alligator, cracklin, Tassoโโ
โDo I want to know what Tasso is?โ
โItโs a delicacy. Made from hog shoulder. Usually we eat it withโโ
โNope, I donโt want to know,โ I said, closing my eyes and holding up a hand to stop the description before he could go further.
โAnyway, I figure if I can survive eating all of that on the regular, I can withstand some questionable food at a company potluck. Plusโโhis eyes flicked up to mine while he held a spoonful of beans and riceโโIโm hungry. Sometimes you just got to be brave.โ
โSometimes you got to have a will to live.โ
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ABOUT THE KWANZAA BRUNCH
A fated brunch and an unlikely Cupid...
Sienna Charles is tired of the same old, same old. Same old job, same old city, same old friends. Same old men.
Just when sheโs relegated herself to living Groundhogโs Day, romance edition, Booker Lasalle swaggers into her life, courtesy an open position at Precision Software. Heโs newโ to the company, to the city, and, most importantly, new to her.
Booker LaSalle is turning over a new leaf, leaving behind a stressful job and an ex-wife for a new city and a job with growth potential. No more falling for the first pretty woman that crosses his pathโlike the witty, acerbic, and obviously interested analyst at Precision. Everything about her tempts Booker to throw that โnew leafโ plan out of the window.
Read The Kwanzaa Brunch in eBook or print HERE. This is book 3 of the holiday shorts and slightly spoils Book 1, Unexpected. http://dlvr.it/TMs6lL