He chuckles low under his breath. “I think I took advantage of you quite a few times in that booth. You remember the night we came back from that concert in the Springs? You were high as hell.”
I slide into the booth where I sat before building a fort beneath the table. “Yeah,” I bite back a smile and pull my jacket up onto the seat next to me, “how could I forget? That vibrator with the remote was the best gift you ever got me. I had two orgasms in the car on the way here,and another in this very booth.” I bite back a nervous grin, wondering why I said that?
We’ve been talking for a measly five minutes, and I said vibrator and orgasm.
Vibrator and orgasm.
What the hell?Those are not words a soon to be mother uses with the man she’s trying to sideline for the betterment of everyone’s lives.
“It was memorable for me too. The way you squirmed when I extended your orgasm after you erupted, I was hellbent on seeing if you would crack and scream out for the whole place to hear,” he says, donning a devilish smile. “I still have it if you’re interested. You left it at my place before you skipped town.” He leans back on the opposite side of the booth, seemingly in an attempt to slow himself down, his long arm stretched out over the back, his tattoos peeking from the cuff of his flannel. “How’s all that going, anyway? I hear you’re dating. Does he buy you toys to play with in public too?”
I pinch my lips together as my eyes widen. “Wow, we’re getting right to it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s what I do best. Straightforward to a fault.”
I nod slowly, avoiding the dating topic completely. “The newspaper isn’t what I was expecting. I mean, I love writing,youknow I love writing, but… I don’t know. There’s no inspiration in San Francisco. At least not the kind that sparks me.”
He perks as he says, “Yeah? I thought you were excited about the city? Hell, you had a shrine to it in your cabin.”
“It wasn’t a shrine.” I roll my eyes. “It was a vision board, and I was excited… until I got there.” I shrug. “You know me, I get all excited to leave the house until it’s time to leave.”
“That mean you’re coming back?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head and twist my straw around in my Coke while I talk. “Ben thinks I haven’t given it long enough. Apparently, acclimating takes time. He movedfrom Oklahoma and I guess it took him like a year to get used to city life. He’s been there fifteen now, and he loves it.”
“Ben?” Wyatt widens his gaze. “Who’s Ben?”
Well, that was stupid.
“He’s the senior editor at the newspaper.”
“So, he’s not the guy you’ve been dating?”
The sizzle from the flat-top griddle sings in chorus with the low country playing over the speakers. I try to lose myself in both before finally answering.
“We’re not dating. We’ve just gone on a few dates.”
Wyatt tilts his head back and forth slowly as his jaw tightens. “A few dates… so you’re dating?”
“No.” I smile nervously. “I’m not dating anyone. We just went out a few times.”
He rolls his shoulders back as though they’re tense. “They do things different in the city then, ‘cause around here, if I take a girl out a few times, we’re dating.”
“So, you’re dating?” I glance down at the table as the words slide out. I’m not sure I want to know.
“Nope,” he says flatly as Betty returns to the table with a silent sorry on her lips for me. I wasn’t planning on holding a grudge, but the sweet scent of my cranberry pancakes is more than enough to forgive even the most heinous crimes.
“Can I get you two anything else?” Betty smiles sweetly and tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear with a faint smile. I get the feeling she’s rooting for us, which I’m not sure how to feel about given the circumstances.
Wyatt and I look toward each other than back toward Betty simultaneously. “No. Thank you.”
For a second, the table is silent and I’m not sure what to say. He’s obviously upset that I went on a few dates, but he doesn’t really have the right to be. That’s what happens whenpeople break up. They go on dates. They meet people. They try to put their lives back together again.
His massive body resituates in the booth as he tugs the pie plate in front of him. As long as I’ve known this man he’s been a pie first kind of guy. I used to wonder how we’d explain that to our kids. How do you convince a five-year-old to eat their vegetables first when Daddy is eating pie?
“People do things differently in the city,” I say grabbing the syrup from the tray near the window overlooking Main Street. “In the city, people date multiple people until they find someone worth spendingalltheir time with.” I shrug. “It was weird for me at first too, but then—” I take a bite of the cranberry pancakes and sigh. “Oh my God, this is good!”
He glances toward me, holding his gaze a beat too long before slicing into his pie. “So, you like this guy?”
