another.
Kyara felt like she should shoo them out, but what would be the point? Then she’d just be staring at an empty dining room.
Just like it had every day for weeks, Kyara’s mind picked over the review, obsessing over each word. At her most bitter, she’d thought about just arranging for “Just fine, but no more.” To be put on her tombstone when she inevitably ran out of money and starved to death.
That was absurd, of course.
She knew she’d break down and call her brothers if it got that bad.
That, however, came with its own risks, its own pain.
Why didn’t I think to ask about the previous owner? Kyara asked herself for the thousandth time. I mean, here it was, a ready-to-go kitchen in the middle of nowhere. No one around who knew me. Surrounded by chatty neighbors who would let me know if anyone came into town. It seemed so perfect. Why didn’t I question? I could have found out about Alice Tylden. I could have known I couldn’t compete. I should have known that I would never be able to measure up.
The fact was, even though she’d counted on the smallness of the community to protect her, she’d never thought about how hard it would be to be accepted into that community in the first place.
Totally caught up in her thoughts, now spiraling down and down, Kyara didn’t even think about the world around her. Turning, she ran into someone, hard. He was as sturdy as a brick wall. Kyara tumbled backwards, her bag of vegetables spilling everywhere.
“Excuse me! I didn’t see you,” she babbled. At the exact same time, he blurted out, “I’m so sorry.”
They each paused to take a moment, his hand already extended down to help her up.
He was tall and broad shouldered.
His simple black t-shirt skimmed over the taut muscles of his arms and chest and tapered nicely into his jeans, showing off his waist. His hands seemed rough with work. When she took the offered hand, though, it was gentle.
His eyes were probably the most striking thing about him. They were a gray-green, like light playing off a pond. They matched his smile – easy and genuine, but with a hint of something hidden underneath.
He began talking to her as he bent to help her gather her lost produce.
“I really am sorry about that, Ms. Bell. I should have noticed you turning there.”
Kyara looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.
“You know my name?” she asked. Is he blushing a little?
“Um, yeah.” He admitted. “We don’t get a lot of new people in the area.”
Kyara allowed herself to laugh a little for not having thought of it.
“Yeah, I should have figured. I’m guessing that outsiders are kind of a thing around here,” she allowed. Plus , she added mentally, I’m probably the only black person around for sixty miles. “But, you should call me Kyara, not ‘Ms. Bell.’”
“Nice to meet you, Kyara,” he said. He seemed almost wary, but he held out his hand again. Kyara took the opportunity to shake it, feeling his large hand almost fold around hers.
Mmmm.
Good hands.
“And you are ...” she invited.
“Oh, uh, right. I’m Ja ..., um, Jason. Here, let me help you pick up.” Jason broke the handshake, the toughened pads of his fingertips trailing across the back of her hand, a pale tan next to her rich, dark brown. His touch made her mouth feel dry.
"Thank you, Jason," she said, watching him.
How does he seem this confident and this awkward at the same time? Whatever, at least he’s talking to me and trying to be polite. Jason bent down to scoop broccoli back into her canvas bag.
Plus, he’s got a great ass. Kyara blinked at herself. It had been a while since she let herself see anyone that way, never mind a white guy.
He straightened up, taking away her view, but handing her the vegetables. He was giving her an odd look. Kyara realized she’d been licking her lips.
“I really
Kyara felt like she should shoo them out, but what would be the point? Then she’d just be staring at an empty dining room.
Just like it had every day for weeks, Kyara’s mind picked over the review, obsessing over each word. At her most bitter, she’d thought about just arranging for “Just fine, but no more.” To be put on her tombstone when she inevitably ran out of money and starved to death.
That was absurd, of course.
She knew she’d break down and call her brothers if it got that bad.
That, however, came with its own risks, its own pain.
Why didn’t I think to ask about the previous owner? Kyara asked herself for the thousandth time. I mean, here it was, a ready-to-go kitchen in the middle of nowhere. No one around who knew me. Surrounded by chatty neighbors who would let me know if anyone came into town. It seemed so perfect. Why didn’t I question? I could have found out about Alice Tylden. I could have known I couldn’t compete. I should have known that I would never be able to measure up.
The fact was, even though she’d counted on the smallness of the community to protect her, she’d never thought about how hard it would be to be accepted into that community in the first place.
Totally caught up in her thoughts, now spiraling down and down, Kyara didn’t even think about the world around her. Turning, she ran into someone, hard. He was as sturdy as a brick wall. Kyara tumbled backwards, her bag of vegetables spilling everywhere.
“Excuse me! I didn’t see you,” she babbled. At the exact same time, he blurted out, “I’m so sorry.”
They each paused to take a moment, his hand already extended down to help her up.
He was tall and broad shouldered.
His simple black t-shirt skimmed over the taut muscles of his arms and chest and tapered nicely into his jeans, showing off his waist. His hands seemed rough with work. When she took the offered hand, though, it was gentle.
His eyes were probably the most striking thing about him. They were a gray-green, like light playing off a pond. They matched his smile – easy and genuine, but with a hint of something hidden underneath.
He began talking to her as he bent to help her gather her lost produce.
“I really am sorry about that, Ms. Bell. I should have noticed you turning there.”
Kyara looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.
“You know my name?” she asked. Is he blushing a little?
“Um, yeah.” He admitted. “We don’t get a lot of new people in the area.”
Kyara allowed herself to laugh a little for not having thought of it.
“Yeah, I should have figured. I’m guessing that outsiders are kind of a thing around here,” she allowed. Plus , she added mentally, I’m probably the only black person around for sixty miles. “But, you should call me Kyara, not ‘Ms. Bell.’”
“Nice to meet you, Kyara,” he said. He seemed almost wary, but he held out his hand again. Kyara took the opportunity to shake it, feeling his large hand almost fold around hers.
Mmmm.
Good hands.
“And you are ...” she invited.
“Oh, uh, right. I’m Ja ..., um, Jason. Here, let me help you pick up.” Jason broke the handshake, the toughened pads of his fingertips trailing across the back of her hand, a pale tan next to her rich, dark brown. His touch made her mouth feel dry.
"Thank you, Jason," she said, watching him.
How does he seem this confident and this awkward at the same time? Whatever, at least he’s talking to me and trying to be polite. Jason bent down to scoop broccoli back into her canvas bag.
Plus, he’s got a great ass. Kyara blinked at herself. It had been a while since she let herself see anyone that way, never mind a white guy.
He straightened up, taking away her view, but handing her the vegetables. He was giving her an odd look. Kyara realized she’d been licking her lips.
“I really
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