“Maybe I will.” She reaches across the table and grabs my box. I watch as she tears it open and fishes out a caramel. “Catch.”
There’s no time to protest because there’s a Milk Dud sailing through the air. I react on instinct, leaning forward and catching it in my mouth.
She rolls her eyes. “Show-off.”
I pretend to dust off my shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”
We order, and when the server returns with a smorgasbord of breakfast food, it occurs to me we might have gone overboard.
My stomach grumbles at the sight of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. Thick slices of French toast topped with powdered sugar. Freshly squeezed orange juice.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” I say.
“Admitting defeat already?”
“Not a chance.” I reach for a strip of bacon, inhaling the scent of salty pork, and Lucy swats my hand away.
“The camera eats first.”
She says it with such a prim and proper air that I can’t help but laugh. “By all means.”
Lucy snaps pics of our breakfast buffet from all angles, occasionally checking her photos and rearranging the dishes, presumably to improve the lighting.
When she finally puts her camera away, I’m grinning like a damn fool. “Now can we eat?”
“Be my guest.”
I grab a strip of bacon and wait for her to sort out the dishes, because hell if I can remember who ordered what at this point.
“Do you plan to do a photo shoot before each meal?” I ask as she drowns her French toast in syrup.
“Abso-freaking-lutely. Food is part of the experience. Route 66 is about more than just quirky roadside attractions. There are soda fountains and candy shops and retro diners galore.”
I spear a hash brown, which is sliced so thin it’s practically a potato chip. “And you’ve mapped them all out?”
“You know it.” She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. “Did you want to see the itinerary?”
“Nope. I’m just going to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” I smirk, remembering the stakes. “Unless, of course, you’re ready to call it quits and head back to Austin?”
She snorts. “You wish.”
We eat in silence for a while, both of us stuffing ourselves like it might be our last meal. The food is incredible, and I can’t remember the last time I sat down for a hot breakfast. I’m always on the go, and it’s a lot of effort for one person.
“Dios mío.” Lucy moans, and the sound goes straight to my cock. “This orange marmalade is everything. You have to try it.”
Fuck the marmalade. I want to hear that moan again.
Lucy holds out a piece of toast. “Seriously. Just try one bite.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice.
I lean in and tear off a chunk with my teeth, but I’m not looking at the toast. Hell, I barely taste the orange marmalade. My brain is crowded with thoughts of the woman sitting across from me, licking her lips.
She stares at me expectantly. “It’s good, right?”
“Delectable.”
When we’re done, Lucy excuses herself to use the ladies’ room, swearing she’s going to make it the whole forty-five miles to Joliet without stopping.
