Page 8 of Touch of Smoke
He finished the beer he’d been drinking from the bottle. “And you’re still a daydreamer.”
“I am not,” she shot back, hating that he had remembered anything about her. He should’ve forgotten her by now, the way she’d forced herself to forget about him.
“And you love to argue.” He sat back against the seat they’d taken in the section reserved for the party when they’d returned from getting Donyell’s phone and shoes. “We can’t never just have a conversation without you debating something with me or countering every damn thing I say.”
“Don’t say stupid shit,” she replied.
“So, asking you what you want to do next in your career is stupid?”
Dammit. He got on her nerves so bad.
“Right,” he said with a knowing nod before she could speak. “I want to know why it’s taking you months to find a job and don’t tell me because you’re looking for the right one. You’re too practical for that and you’re too good at what you do to not have had offers from wherever you interviewed. So, tell me what’s really going on.”
She could lie, like she’d been doing for the last hour since he’d decided he needed to sit right next to her while all the other attendees at this party mingled, danced, drank and ate. She and Ro had done the eating and drinking part, but from this spot where they’d been sitting. At one point, in an effort to get away from him she’d thought about getting up to dance, but instinct told her he would just follow her ass out onto the dance floor and that she didn’t want. As platonic as she could keepthis encounter with him, the better. There would be no reason for him to rub his still dense, body against hers like he’d done outside and absolutely no reason for him to put those strong hands she remembered so well on her again.
But Ro was persistent, annoyingly so. If he had a question he was going to find the answer, no amount of denying or scrambling would stop him. So, she didn’t even try.
“I don’t want to go back into a hospital setting. I want to do something…something that’ll make a difference,” she said.
“Okay,” he replied. “Tell me more.”
She huffed and figured to hell with it, she might as well. They weren’t doing anything else but sitting here while a whole party happened around them.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but the clinic I was working at accepted a lot of patients on Medicare or Medicaid the state subsidized health care system. That was part of the claims against the director and the owners, that they were defrauding the government by billing way more than they were servicing.” She waved a hand because that had only been the tip of the iceberg. “Anyway, I don’t want to get into that drama. It’s not my business. But what hurt me most about the clinic being closed, wasn’t that I lost my job, it was the patients. Many of them came to the clinic because it was the closest health facility they could get to that would accept their insurance and still provide quality care. We also offered alternative treatments that they couldn’t get in the larger hospitals.”
“What kind of alternative treatments?”
“Mainly medicinal cannabis. We also had a holistic healer on staff as well as two trauma therapists. Our goal was to minister assistance to the mind and body. And we were doing it in a place that was familiar to the patients, where they felt safe and unjudged.” She toyed with the edges of the silver napkin she’d set her glass on top of.
He eased his head back, his eyes going a little wider. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She frowned. “Why’d you say it like that? What’s wrong, you don’t agree with medicinal cannabis? I know that’s a lie considering how much weed you used to smoke back in the day and probably still do. I mean, it’s been legal in Denver way longer than it has here in Maryland.”
“Nah, that’s not it at all. And you’re right, I did used to smoke a lot.” He chuckled at that. “The good ‘ole days. But I really didn’t while I was out in Denver. I was working so much, trying to move up in the bank. I wasn’t trying to do anything to mess up that internship. Then when I got the job permanently, I knew I could only go further if I kept my eye on the prize.”
That sounded just like the Ro she’d always known. The focused and determined boy who’d spent hours after dinner when it had gotten too dark for Ms. Christine to let him wander the streets, shooting that basketball in the alley at the back of their rowhouse. Then, when he’d gotten into his teen years, he spent most of his time at the rec center where he did the exact same thing, play basketball. That had seemed to be every Black boy’s dream at the time, to get a basketball scholarship and eventually end up in the NBA. That, or become a rapper. But Ro couldn’t rap. He could dance his ass off though.
“And you finally claimed that prize, didn’t you?” she asked, trying not to sound irritated at the thought that to get what he’d always wanted, he’d had to live so far away.
“No, actually,” he said, catching and holding her gaze. “I didn’t. At least not yet.”
Well, damn. It had been a really long time since a simple look from a guy could make her panties wet. Then again, the barely masked hunger that was clear in his eyes and the fact that it was coming from him, made this far from a simple look.
“Anyway,” he said, just before she was about to turn away. “Back to your original inquiry, I’m not bothered by the mention of medicinal cannabis because I happen to be a cannabis banker. That’s why I moved back to Baltimore, actually. I’m the Chief Financial Officer at Dukane Bank now. I’m spearheading the cannabis banking division. Made a few trips back and forth to Annapolis and D.C. in the past three years to do some lobbying to get that bill passed.”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “Like, really wow. I had no idea you were doing it that big. I mean, I always knew you would because you wouldn’t settle for anything less. But, wow.” Then she frowned. “So, wait, you’ve been back in town on and off for the last three years and you didn’t tell anybody?” She wanted to say, he didn’t tell her, but she snapped her mouth shut and waited for his response.
“They were short trips and I didn’t want to tell my moms and pops about it until it was official that I was going to come back for good. Didn’t want to get their hopes up, you know.”
“I get it,” she said. “Didn’t want to gettheirhopes up.” She stared down at that napkin again as she mumbled those words.
When he reached out to take one of her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, she tried not to sigh at how amazingly good that touch felt. How comfortable and relaxed it made her feel. “It was always my intention to come back here and settle down. This is my home,” he said.
She swallowed. “Yeah, it is.”
Why they sat like that staring at each other, that one hand connected, for endless moments she had no idea. And she put an end to it before the ideas, aka her daydreams, had a chance to restart. “So, what do you do as a cannabis banker?”
His lips spread into a wide grin and suddenly she wanted to say whatever, do whatever to see that look on his face again and again.
