A Yuletide Affair. Monica Richardson

the property.

      “We can use the golf cart from this house, and I’ll drive you over to a nearby property. Of course it’s a little more quaint, but still very beautiful.”

      “I’ll follow your lead,” he said.

      They drove the golf cart along the road to a smaller three-bedroom house on Marsh Harbour. Tall palm trees greeted them in front of the well-manicured yard.

      “This one seems a little more practical,” Samson said as they entered the home. “I like the kitchen. It’s much bigger than the other house.”

      “Why would you care about a kitchen?”

      “I cook. And very well, as a matter of fact.”

      “And what is it that you cook?” she asked with a bit of skepticism in her voice.

      “A little of everything, but mostly soul food. Collard greens and the best fried chicken you’ve ever tasted,” he boasted. “I make a mean sweet potato pie, too.”

      She looked at him. “You make sweet potato pie?”

      “A mean one,” he insisted.

      “That’s my favorite pie. I can eat a whole one all by myself.”

      “Well, maybe I’ll make you one someday,” said Samson. “Do you cook?”

      “All my life. Mostly Bahamian dishes. Our mother made sure we all learned how to cook. Said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She laughed. “Not that I care about getting to a man’s heart. But it’s nice to know how to cook, nonetheless. At least I’ll never go hungry, right?”

      “Why aren’t you interested in getting to a man’s heart? Aren’t you interested in men?”

      “Of course I’m interested in men.” She set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “But I’m just not interested in the whole drama of a relationship right now. Don’t have the time or the energy. My life is fine just the way it is.”

      “Relationships don’t always have to bring drama. Maybe you’re unhappy by your own choosing.”

      “I never said I was unhappy! I’m quite happy, in fact.” She was convincing herself more than him. “But I’m just not interested in the whole drama of a relationship right now. Don’t have the time or the energy. My life is fine just the way it is.”

      “Relationships don’t always have to bring drama. Maybe you’re unhappy by your own choosing.”

      “I never said I was unhappy! I’m quite happy, in fact.” She was convincing herself more than him. “But what about you? You have a wife, girlfriend or baby’s mother back in...wherever it is you came from?”

      “Chicago. And none of the above. I’m a happy bachelor.”

      “So you live in Chicago?”

      “Southside.”

      “What part?”

      “In a historical, black neighborhood. A lot of culture there.”

      “Isn’t there also a lot of crime?”

      “Not any more than anyplace else. And where do you live, on Miami’s Fisher Island somewhere?”

      “Downtown.”

      “Should’ve known.”

      “What do you mean, ‘should’ve known’? I’ll have you know that downtown Miami is very cultural. A lot of history there, as well,” she explained. “And why do you live in Southside Chicago, anyway?”

      “It’s my home. I was born and raised there. It’s where I grew up. I’m proud of my home. I envy your upbringing. Must’ve been nice, growing up in the Bahamas.”

      “It was restricting. I outgrew this place. Quickly!”

      It had been years since she’d lived on the islands. A native of the Bahamas, she’d gone away to college and vowed never to return to the islands permanently. And even after the completion of her family’s bed-and-breakfast, the Grove, she still had no desire to return. However, visiting properties with Samson caused her to remember why she loved the Bahamas so much. It was still her home, where her family lived, and still one of the most beautiful places in the world.

      Her father was a retired physician, and he was the best example of what she wanted in a man. Genuine and caring and very intuitive, he was part of the reason she’d never settled down with anyone. No one could ever compare to him. That and the fact that her mother’s voice was forever in her head about everything. Her mother’s little anecdotes and lessons lived in her mind. She didn’t know why she listened to her mother, though. Beverly Talbot had done the opposite of what she constantly encouraged her daughters to do. She told them to follow their dreams, when she’d abandoned her own dreams only to follow their father’s.

      “Sometimes in life, we make sacrifices, Alyson.” That had been her mother’s excuse. “I wanted a better life for you guys. That’s why I didn’t follow my dreams.”

      Alyson and her siblings had certainly benefited from their mother’s sacrifices. Their parents had somehow managed to put every one of them through college. Everyone except for Alyson’s youngest brother, Denny, who’d chosen the military instead. He was currently away completing officer’s training in the United States. The rebellious one with a mind and style of his own, he’d certainly been the exception to the Talbot family rule.

      Somehow he’d also managed to weasel his way out of working for their family’s business. The Grove was their inheritance—passed down to them from their grandfather Clyde Talbot. They each had a stake in the business. Jasmine had been the first to move back to the islands to oversee the construction of the family’s B and B. She’d written the business and marketing plan. And after the renovation had been completed by her fiancé, she’d been instrumental in hiring staff and overseeing the day-to-day operations.

      But Jasmine was becoming overwhelmed. Their youngest sister, Whitney, a schoolteacher in Texas, had made promises that she would move back home after the school year ended, but so far that hadn’t happened, and Jasmine needed help. Planning a wedding and running the Grove was certainly taking its toll on her. As a result, Alyson found herself on the islands more often than she wanted to be. It had been weeks since she’d been to her home in Miami.

      “If we’re done looking around, I should lock up.”

      “I’m done,” said Samson.

      Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a text message from Stephen.

      Taking a bit longer than expected. Might be another hour...maybe two. Sorry J

      “Really, Stephen!” she said aloud.

      “What?” Samson asked.

      “He said he might be an hour or two longer,” she explained. “I apologize.”

      “Don’t,” said Samson. “Let’s just make the best of it.”

      “How?”

      “There’s a beautiful beach a few steps from here. I say we take advantage of it.”

      “I say we don’t. I’m not even dressed for the beach.”

      “When was the last time you just let your hair down?”

      “I can’t remember. I don’t have time to let my hair down.”

      “Well, today you will.” Samson grabbed her hand and ushered her out of the kitchen and through the living room, straight to the front door.

      “Just let me lock up.”

      * * *

      Samson didn’t waste any time removing his hat and laying it atop a huge rock. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and all Alyson took in were golden brown abs and strong arms and the