He chews it slowly, frowning, and I realize we forgot to get drinks.
That’s what the fast-food restaurant next door will be for.
Drinks and the bathroom.
They go together.
“This is horrendous,” he says.
“Right?” I agree as I munch on my own fillet.Mmmm. Delicious greasy fish. “Can I have a fry? Please? And wait until you try the hush puppies. I don’t know what their secret ingredient is, but I also don’t think I want to know. I just want to eat it.”
He takes another bite of his fish, this one larger. “Truly awful,” he says with his mouth full.
Oliver Cumberland.
Talking with his mouth full.
Oh my god.
I’menjoying this road trip.
Road trip in general? Yes. Sign me up. Sounds fun.
But with Oliver?
This is unexpected.
He hands me a french fry, then shoves three of them in his own mouth and makes a rough, low noise of pleasure in the back of his throat that has my nipples tingling.
He dives into the bag again and pulls out another piece of fish.
I eat my own fry slower, watching him inhale the food.
This isn’t normal.
Definitely not for him.
Possibly not for anyone from my old life.
Two more fish fillets later—yep, he’s eatenallbut the one piece he gave to me, and I realize belatedly that not only didn’t we get our bonus two fish for free, but we didn’t get the full five we paid for either—he finds the hush puppies.
He doesn’t even stop to give it a squinty eye before he pops the whole thing in his mouth.
There’s that rumbly growl of pleasure again, this time with his head dipping back against the seat rest.
His knees are cramped under the steering wheel.
His hands are coated in grease.
And he’s moaning in pleasure over fast-food hush puppies.
Once again—this isnotthe same boring man who proposed to my sister.
He’s someone else entirely.
But that doesn’t give me permission for my body’s reaction to him.
Not in the slightest.
