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It’s not that he is suspicious or even a compulsive kind of man, nah, he is just keepin’ his eyes on his business. You know, his money doesn’t just grow on fuckin’ trees or somethin’!
It’s just, things have been easy, quiet even, with no substantial drama for months, and that’s never a good sign when workin’ with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth… Right, even on her end, things been workin’ out the way they…she wants them! She’s finally all settled in the city council and keepin’ her white lady, cookie-cutter persona of hers. Her dumbass ex-husband is finally outta the picture. Not that he cares. He needs to remind himself of that, ya know?
And for him, money’s been comin’ in even more now that Nick’s tucked away where he had to years ago… Fucker was stealin’ from him an’ cuttin’ him short the whole time when they were “partners.” He knows now. So, things are too good this time ‘round, so he gotta make rounds to intimidate a few of his associates here and there. And so what if he gotta do it on a Sunday evenin’? Sue him!
He pulls over by her house makes his way towards her backyard. It’s already dark out, and he sees her shadow movin’ ‘round through the curtains on her kitchen door. Always doin’ somethin’, even on a Sunday evenin’. Not that he secretly hoped to find her all bored and cozied up on her couch watchin’ some stupid reality TV show or nothin’…Nah.
The closer he gets to the door, the stronger the scent of sweets gets. Her house is like the damn gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel, a storybook his abuelita used to read him when he was a boy. It makes total sense now that he thinks about it! He’s hypnotized by her sweetness, and she’s the witch who has him all tangled up and is ready to eat his damn ice-cold heart out! All raw, bloody, and messy. No mercy.
He sighs…
He knocks now, cause, she said to. So, he does. He hears the pots and pans bangin’, but it stops, and a few seconds later, she is at the door starin’ at him hidin’ herself halfway behind the door and blinks rapidly.
She’s wearin’ a large bubblegum color t-shirt with… Is that SpongeBob printed on it?! Hair in a messy bun, there’s chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth, nipples pokin’ against her shirt roamin’ free, and her face is gradually turnin’ into it's signature shade, pink. He hears a guy speakin’ on TV or somethin’ “That’s a great point, Keri, sometimes love comes knocking on your door later in life when you least expect it, I was…” Is she listenin’ to a podcast?!
He smirks and tucks his lips in so he doesn’t laugh at the sight in front of him. She takes a loud breath and, “What are you doing here?”
“Mama, why you hidin’?” He chuckles.
“Hold on!” Then she closes the door almost all the way; he watches her through the small crack runnin’ on her tippy toes to snatch her phone to pause the podcast on her way to the bedroom as she’s pullin’ down the bottom of her shirt to cover up her ass! Rio rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Man, she a trip.”
He watches her disappear, so he lets himself in and lets the sight in front of him unfold.
There are cookies and cupcakes all over the counters; there’s a glass of half drank bourbon next to a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie. This time, he lets out a small laugh.
He goes around the counter to get himself a cookie while he waits; he takes a bite and moans despite himself as he’s watchin’ Elizabeth comin’ back towards him, now with black short shorts on and apparently wearin’ a bra too. He can’t decide which is sweeter, the damn cookie or the sight of her—another moan.
Elizabeth’s lookin’ at him with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips. He smirks back.
“Sorry about that!” She says, distracted, “Also, yes, please help yourself, what’s mine is yours!” She points at the cookie halfway to his mouth while rollin’ her eyes. Rio hums in satisfaction and closes his eyes as he takes a bite of his second cookie.
“Mmm, mama, how did you know chocolate chip is my favorite?” Says with a teasing tone.
She lets out a small laugh while rollin’ her eyes again, “So, what’s up?!” She says, Voice a little squeaky as she takes a bite of her own cookie before sippin’ on her drink.
He shrugs, “Just checkin’ on my business!” Rests his elbows on the counter in front of him and continues, “Yeah, figured I haven’t checked in on you in a few weeks.” He drawls, starin’.
She scuffs, “Few weeks?! It’s been ten days! Plus, Mick, Annie, and I have a system, and it’s been working. So, no need for micromanagement!” She adds, tiltin’ her chin down, eyes fixed on him with a smirk that reminds him so much of the time when she was countin’ her campaign money at Sweet P’s and askin’ him if he listens to Nick and whatnot, and says, “Already forgot who’s the boss around here?”
He laughs now, holdin’ his stomach with a hand, and the other hand drops the half-eaten cookie on top of the counter so he can hold its edge to control his balance.
“Oh baby, how could I?!” He then picks up the cookie and takes another bite, shakin’ his head.
Her smile is now big, and he can see her shark-like teeth pokin’ out. She shakes her head in mock disbelief. “The kids are going to be here tomorrow, and I’m stocking up on necessities for the week.”
“Right, right”
“Anything else? Cause I was in the middle of something here, you know!!”
He’s starin’ at her lips and eyes roamin’ around her mouth to find the smeared chocolate there…Shakes his head to focus, “Nah, nah we good. Keep up the good work, though, yeah?”
“Oookaay…” He can hear her rollin’ her eyes as he’s on his way to the door to let himself out. Before the door shuts, he hears the guy from the podcast talkin’ again.
So whatever if he makes it a habit to go to her house every Sunday. Carman has the kids over the weekends, and apparently, she has made it her mission to bake for the whole suburbia every Sunday evenin’, and he has a sweet tooth he cannot curb. So, he goes. Every. Single. Sunday. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been since the first time he was there for the cookie bakin’ fiesta! Probably 6, 7 weeks by now. He is surprised how he hasn’t gotten diabetes or some shit!
They usually hang out in her kitchen while she bakes. They sip on some bourbon that he’s gotten into the habit of bringin’ over. Sometimes there’s soft music; sometimes they just talk about random shit, even gossip about how Mick and Annie are gettin’ too friendly if you ask him! And to his surprise, most of the time, they listen to this guy named Dr.Eric Wells talk about love and relationships on this podcast. He won’t ever admit it, but he has found himself layin’ on his bed, starin’ at the ceilin’, thinkin’ about the parts that spoke to him the most. The parts he could relate to. The parts he could relate to his relationship with her. So, he goes, watches her bake and clean in her lazy Sunday outfits, and leaves at a reasonable hour feelin’ meditated and light.
Except for this Sunday. Some shit went down in one of the warehouses up North; he had to stay and do collateral damage, to say the least, make sure there were no traces left. He knows this is just the beginnin’ of some major headache. So, he is takin’ precautions. He is pissed. He missed out on some mama-baked cookies and a new episode of their podcast cause people can’t get their head straight!
By the time he makes it back to his loft, it’s almost midnight. He is fishin’ into his pocket to pull out his phone to get the electronic key when he sees it.
There is a container sittin’ by his door with a green sticky note on its lid. He stands in front of it and stares at the neatly written word. Christopher. With a small heart on top of the “I” instead of a dot.
Elizabeth. A couple o’ weeks ago, he had her help him with pickin’ Marcus up from his school cause he got held up with some bullshit. Cause he trusts her—partners and all.
Now, here he is. Starin’ at a container he is sure is filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. He doesn’t know how long he’s been hoverin’ over it, both hands on each side of his doorframe, starin’… He doesn’t even bother to bend down to pick it up or to even look inside the container. He lets out a heavy breath.
Finally, he finds the strength to push up, stand straight and storm out of the hallway towards the buildin’s parkin’ lot to his car. He gets in, slams the door shut, turns on the G-Wagon, and backs out of his spot with a loud skid. “God damn it, Eric Wells!” He growls low hits the steering wheel with his palm.
His brain is wiped out, clean of any thoughts. He is tunneled visioned, and all he can focus on is takin’ the right exit to get to the damn gingerbread house where he’s left his candied heart at.
He doesn’t know how or how long it takes him to get to her house. He pulls aside, jumps outta his car, slams the door shut, and strides to her backyard towards her French doors, where he sees the dim light comin’ from her bedroom.
He doesn’t bother to knock and just storms in and finds her in her ugly PJs, her hair’s still wet, rubbin’ lotion on her hands standin’ by the foot of her bed, frozen by the sight of him.
“Wh…wha…”
“Nah. Stop.” He drawls, annoyed.
“What is going on?!” She is starin’ at him in shock, hands still smeared with lotion she needs to rub into her skin.
“You see, I keep thinkin' about what that guy said on that podcast o’ yours, about relationships and whatnot, that sometimes you gotta, what he say… yea, use your words when expressin’ your feelin’s, ‘member?”
He notices a small nod and watches her swallow. Still frozen in place.
“Nah, see? I need you to use your words, Elizabeth.” He tells her calmer than he means to.
“I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to say!” She starts rubbin’ her hands together to get rid of the lotion and shifts in her place a little.
“You don’t, huh? A’ight.” He tsks and looks away from her for a second to gather his thoughts before he looks back at her again.
“A’ight.” He repeats, softer this time, noddin’ his head while extendin’ his arm to get ahold of the French door to shut it. It closes with a click.
She watches him with half hooded eyes slightly pouted lips, flushed cheeks but doesn’t do or say anythin’.
He starts, “You know, I think this thing with me and you” He motions two of his fingers between them, “has run its course, yeah? Don’t you think, darlin’? Think I’m ready to get…” He hesitates, slowly runs his eyes over her frame until he’s looking at her bewildered eyes, “incentivized.” He drawls with a smirk takes a step towards her.
She’s now blinkin’ rapidly. “Wha… what kind of incentive?” Takes a small step towards him.
He huffs out a laugh, puts his hands in his pockets, and takes couple more steps towards her, “Aw you know, darlin’, the kind that I call you my girl In. Every. Meanin’. Of. The. Word.” He says each word firm and elaborately. His face is serious. At this point, the front of his shoes is touchin’ her bare toes.
She looks up at him through her lashes, her irises movin’ from left to right, watchin’ him with uncertainty but attentive. Her hands come up to grab onto his jacket to pull him in, but he gently stops her.
“Words, Elizabeth.” He whispers, voice rough, starin’ into her eyes while still envelopin’ her tiny hands in his giant ones. Keepin’ them close to his chest.
She takes a deep breath closes her eyes before openin’ them to look at his owns. This time, he recognizes traces of affection and…certainty “I… I want to be your girl. In. Every. Meaning. Of. The. Word.” Bits her lower lip with her top teeth.
His lips form a soft smile, “Yeah?” His voice is rough and breathy.
“Yes.” She smiles back. Shyly. Her eyes locked on his.
His right hand lets go of her left bringing his index finger to run through a strand of her wet hair to push it behind her ear. He runs the front of his index finger on her cheek while the tip of his thumb follows all the way down to her chin, pulling her closer. Her eyes flutter shut; he watches her long lashes caress her cheeks before he closes his own.
Once their lips meet, he knows for a fact, a few batches of chocolate chip cookies and a damn podcast have him bewitched under the spell of the sweetness of her lips. Forever.