Page 10 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming

RANSON

R anson pushes his shopping cart down the aisle, looking for polenta.

He’s making the ladies osso bucco, which takes two hours, so he’s heading straight to Lyric’s after the store.

When he told her what he was making, she joked about him doing too much.

But in the words of Luther, it’s “never too much.” At least, when it comes to her.

There’s something about this woman that makes Ranson want to give her the world. But for now, dinner will have to do.

Right after he gets all the ingredients in the cart, Patrick calls. He’s been expecting him to call all day. He’s a busy dad of Ranson’s twelve-year-old niece and goddaughter Courtney, so he’s not surprised to only hear from him now.

“Hey, bruh,” Ranson answers.

“‘ Hey, bruh .’ That’s all you have to say?”

“Obviously, I didn’t listen to your advice.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I know, I know, but I’m drawn to her. C’mon, man, when have you ever heard me say that about a woman? Especially lately.”

“Never. And you’re right, you are in a bit of a dry spell.”

Ranson has always been the serial monogamist of his brothers.

Kordell is the “date ’em for a few months and move on” type of guy, Lionel is the “I’m too busy to date, so sex will have to do” type of guy and Braxton is the “Date? Naw, I just want some pussy” type of guy.

Ranson is the only one who goes from one serious relationship to the next, but lately, he’s been so busy with his investing that he hasn’t had time to date anyone.

And Lord knows, no one has ever piqued his interest like Lyric.

“Fuck you,” Ranson jokes.

Patrick laughs. “Look, man, if this woman has got you this worked up that you’re kissing her in public while risking the wrath of your father, then go for it.”

“That’s what I plan to do. I’m heading to her spot now to cook her and her girls dinner.”

“Find out if any of them are my type. I’m in a bit of a dry spell myself.”

“That’s because you’re afraid Sheila will scare off any woman that comes near you. I’m telling you; you’ve got to get her ass out of your guest house,” Ranson tells him. “You can co-parent without her being on your property.”

“I know, and I’m working on it. I promised her I would buy her a house.”

“Fuck, if that doesn’t get her out, I don’t know what will.” Ranson chuckles.

“It’s costing me a pretty penny, so it had better work,” Patrick jokes.

Patrick is being really cool about his situation because if this had happened to Ranson, he wouldn’t be so nice.

Sheila is Courtney’s mother. She has been trying like hell to get her hooks into Patrick for literally over a decade.

And he refuses to budge. He’s a mix of Kordell and Braxton in that he’ll sometimes date women, but it never goes beyond a couple of months—or he’ll just fuck them.

Ever since he lost the love of his life years before Ranson even met him, he’s never been serious about anyone.

Sheila thought getting pregnant would change that and has been attempting to get Patrick to change his mind ever since.

“I’ll talk to Lyric about which one of her friends would like to meet you.”

“Cool. Good luck with Lyric. From what you’ve told me and what I’ve read, she sounds like the total package.”

“She is.”

When he pulls up to her house, he notices how nice her neighborhood is. It looks like a little town tucked into a big city.

Her house is warm and inviting. The only thing missing is a pie cooling on the windowsill. Maybe that’s what’s drawing him to her, that familiar feeling he gets whenever he’s back home. Lyric gives him that sense whenever he’s in her presence.

He rings the doorbell.

Lyric answers, her hair in a bun and her face clean with light gloss. She has a versatile face. Whether she’s all done up or without a stitch of makeup, she’s gorgeous. She’s dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a UCLA T-shirt. This woman could make a potato sack look good.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon. I hope my ambition to make you an impressive dinner didn’t cause you to leave work early.”

“I had to leave early anyway; all the phone calls were driving me crazy.”

“So, then, it is my fault, just not in the way I thought?”

“A little bit.” Lyric makes a tiny gesture with her thumb and forefinger.

They share a chuckle.

“Come on in.”

He looks around her house and digs the color scheme, noting that it’s very B they are a trip .

“Oh, and make sure you introduce me as the good doctor. I don’t want to know his name either. We don’t need to see or know anything about each other until the blindfolds are off,” Aimee adds.

Ranson takes a bite of beef shank then takes a sip of wine.

“Got it. So, tell me, how did you ladies meet?”

They all look at each other and chuckle.

Lyric speaks first. “Aimee and I were college roommates, and one day, we ran into that sweet young woman over there.” Lyric points at Suchi.

“She had just been dumped by her piece of shit boyfriend, and she was crying. Aimee and I sat by her and asked her to come with us. We took her to the all-night diner we were heading to and let her talk it out. By the end of the night, we were all friends.”

“That’s beautiful. And how did Bridget join the crew?”

“That’s actually a crazy story,” Lyric says.

Aimee giggles. “A few weeks later, we were all having dinner at a local bar. Lyric is a sports nut, and some football game was playing, and she just had to watch it.”

“It was the Warriors vs. the Eagles. It was important!” Lyric argues.

“My dad took me and my brothers to that game. We had a whole a sky box to ourselves.” Ranson forks some meat and polenta.

“Ugh, we get it. You have money.” Bridget pours herself some more wine.

“Yep, so much money.” He pushes his chest out and winks at Bridget.

She rolls her eyes and waves him off, making Ranson tilt his head back and laughs.

Bridget continues the story. “Anyway, I was on the most horrific date in the history of dating. I’m talking about a whole list of loser qualities.

First, he forgot his wallet, and then he actually accepted a call during the date and stayed on the phone for twenty minutes.

Then, after all that, he had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to go home with him.

I, of course, said no, and he didn’t like hearing that.

He called me out my name, and I threw my drink in his face.

Next thing you know, he’s standing and shouting at me. ”

“Shit, what happened next?” Ranson dabs his mouth with his napkin.

“Me, Suchi and Lyric quickly realized what was about to happen, so we all stepped in and got in between him and Bridget. Dude saw that four women were ready to fight him, called us all crazy bitches and bounced.” Aimee takes a sip of wine.

“That dude was the only bitch.” Ranson shakes his head.

“Here, here,” Briget agrees.

Ranson raises his glass. “A toast to you, ladies. Here’s to meeting and getting to know four beautiful, intelligent Black women. You all truly are the blueprint.”

“I like him, Ric,” Bridget says.

“Yeah, I do too.” Lyric smiles at Ranson.

He smiles back.

This has been one of the most fun nights he’s had in a long time. The more time he spends with Lyric, the more he doesn’t want his time with her to end.

Hours later, Ranson stands by the front door with Lyric. Tonight was so much fun, and as much as he wants to stay, he doesn’t want to take any more of Lyric’s time and space.

“Good night, Lyric.” Ranson stares down at her.

Lyric, in turn, stares back at him. “Good night, Ranson.”

He leans down and kisses her. She kisses him back; this time, she licks his lips before pressing her lips against his.

Lyric is at least five foot nine, and at six foot two, Ranson doesn’t have to bend that much to kiss her.

Their tongues touch, and he tastes wine and the strawberry sorbet they had for dessert.

His hands make their way to Lyric’s ass as he moans into her mouth.

Her leg lifts and wraps around Ranson’s hip.

He lifts her other leg, wrapping both around him as he holds her up by her ass.

His lips move down to her neck, as he bucks his hips forward.

She follows suit and bucks her hips, matching his rhythm.

Their lips reconnect while they dry hump against the door.

“Shit,” Ranson grunts.

He squeezes her ass, which makes Lyric thrust faster. He speeds up to match her.

“Oh, fuck!” She bites his ear lobe.

The friction becomes too much. His face is buried in her neck as he unloads in his pants. “Argh!” he growls.

His hand snakes its way into her sweats and between her legs. He rubs her swollen clit through her panties.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whimpers and clutches on to his shirt. “I’m about to come.”

“Wet up my hand, baby.” Ranson breathes into her ear.

Lyric tenses, then explodes in his hand. He holds her firmly against him as the last of the orgasm works its way through her. He takes her the short distance to the couch and lays her on top of him.

“Do you want to stay over?” Lyric asks.

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses her forehead.

Shit, now I never want to leave .