I slip inside and shoot off a text to let Lucy know I’m downstairs. She appears at the top of the steps a few seconds later, and I can’t stop smiling up at her like a happy puppy.
“Morning,” she says shyly as she jogs down the stairs.
In response, I grab for her hands and pull her to the entryway to the hearth room.
“What are you doing?”
I glance up to where the mistletoe is still hanging overhead, and I grin down at her before lowering my mouth to hers and kissing her a proper good morning.
“Wow,” she says, looking slightly dazed when I pull back. “That’ll give a girl some energy.”
I study her and frown. “You didn’t sleep well?”
She shakes her head. “I slept great, just not for very long. I was wired when I got home, because”—her cheeks flush—“of the hot tub.”
I am inordinately proud of that. I wag my brows at her, and she shoves me playfully. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”
“Can’t help it. I’ve made it my mission to kiss you to the point where you’re losing sleep.”
Her eyes widen, and her blush deepens. “Well, you accomplished that yesterday,” she says with a smirk. “I started tinkering with my manuscript and ended up writing almost ten thousand words last night.” At my puzzled expression, she adds, “That’s usually how many words I write in a week— a good week.”
I let out a surprised expletive. “I mean dang, Lu. That’s wild. All that writing and you must be hungry.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Starving, actually.”
The woman winks. She actually winks at me.
I cannot be held responsible for the growl that comes out of my mouth. I reach for her to pull her in for another kiss, but she side-steps me and laughs, taking off for the door. “Come on, TJ. I need sustenance.” She glances at me over her shoulder and shoots me a wolfish grin. “For writing and more kissing.”
The drive to the diner takes about twenty minutes. It’s a hole-in-the-wall spot at the end of a strip mall on the outskirts of Green Bay. The parking lot is deserted when we arrive. It’s early, and it’s the day after Christmas, so I can’t imagine we’re going to have to fight too many people for a seat.
Lucy looks around at the vacant, poorly paved lot, and I have a moment of panic. Is this type of place not up to her standards? She’s so normal and unassuming that I sometimes forget she’s used tothe finer things.
But then she takes one more look around, unlatches her seatbelt, and shocks me when she climbs over the console of my truck and sits in my lap.
“Hi.” She smiles up at me and loops her arms around my neck. “Is this okay?”
“You don’t even need to ask.” I lower my mouth to hers and let myself get lost in her again. I love that she’s comfortable enough with me to take initiative, to tell me what she likes and what she wants.
I’m quickly realizing Anton is right. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than spend time with Lucy, doing what she wants to do, and making her feel like she’s the most important thing in the world to me.
After a couple minutes and a few stops and starts, wherein Lucy was half out the door but I pulled her back to kiss her some more, we manage to leave the seclusion of my truck and get seated in a corner booth at the diner. I’m pleased to see the waitress standing behind the counter.
“That’s Betsy,” I tell Lucy, tipping my head toward her. She’s a single mom in her early forties, and she looks tired this morning. I make a mental note to check in about her boys. “I’ve been coming here since I got drafted to the River Foxes, and she’s never once blown my cover.”
“I’m so hungry right now, I think I’d be okay being found out if it meant I got French toast.”
I hand her a laminated menu. I don’t need one, since I always get the same thing. “You’re a French toast person, huh?”
“It’s the superior breakfast.”
“A whole platter of pancakes would beg to differ.”
Lucy’s brow puckers as she meets my gaze. “Pancakes don’t hold a candle to French toast. Sourdough bread, built-in eggs, and fresh fruit toppings. Come on. No contest.”
“I had no idea you were so passionate about this topic. Should I be concerned?”
“As long as you don’t get in the way of me and my French toast, you’ll be fine.”
