Laird never said a word about his eating habits. He just munched down his lumberjack breakfast and smiled every so often. It was like a complete one-eighty from what he had been before when Mhairi was having her baby, and it was kind of weird. But it was also really nice to just sit and share somebody’s company.
Who knew what the deal was. Maybe he’d just been having a really bad day before.
Or maybe it was just the shared camaraderie of a healthcare professional after a long shift. Devon had that with Raven sometimes after they’d both been on for two days in a row and helping birth three or four babies at a time. Which meant maybe he’d earned a little respect from Laird during the process.
Who knew? He was just going to take it as it was—two dudes, one hot, one him, not being into each other.
“Oh my God, that was so good.” Laird leaned back in his seat after a bit, putting a hand on his belly. “I think I might explode, but I needed that.”
“Pancakes feed the soul.” Devon grinned, although hewas less “I’m going to die from full” and more “I’m going to nod off right here.”
“I can accept that as a basic fact of life. Turkey sausage? We might have a problem.”
“Turkey sausage? It’s not my favorite, but I tend to get a little bit of a queaze if there’s too much fat. It’s a thing,” he admitted.
“Huh.” Laird’s grin went a little roguish. “That’s because you run. Bounces everything around.”
“Aren’t you a firefighter? Don’t you have mandatory PT?”
“I do, but I circuit train.”
“Lots of weight training.” He nodded. He could totally tell. “It works for you. You’re built like a brick shithouse.”
“Thanks. That’s good, right?”
“It is. I think the whole idea of that idiom is that a brick crapper is going to be so much more sturdy than a rickety old wooden one.”
Laird threw back his head and laughed, and the sound combined with the sight of that tan throat working was just so incredibly sexy that all he could do was sit there and blink. That wasn’t fair. The guy was beautiful as it was, but laughing, he was intense.
“You’re really beautiful.” Hopefully he didn’t say that out loud.
The way Laird’s eyebrows went up, he had a feeling he’d blurted it right out.
“Thank you. I have to say, you’re growing on me fast, honey. I was in a mood when we met, and I apologize.”
“I appreciate it. It happens to all of us.” And he meant that. God knew everybody had their bad days, and under stress, it could get worse.
“Yeah, it seems to happen to me a lot.” Laird chuckled. “I try not to be a dick, though, so I always apologize when it’s due.”
Millie brought the check, and Laird pulled out his wallet.
“It’s my treat, you drove.” He fumbled with his wallet, blinking. His fingers just wouldn’t work.
“Hey, I’ve got this. You can get it next time.” Laird handed over his card to Millie, who didn’t have a whole lot else to do besides run back and forth since they were the only folks in there. “And I’m going to drive you home, too. Listen, if the storm gets worse and you need to get out tomorrow so you can get your car, call me, okay? I have tomorrow off, and I have chains for my truck.”
“Are you sure? I mean, thank you. Is it going to snow? Probably, huh? Stupid weather.” Spring here could be so mercurial.
“It started while we were in here eating. I was worried you were going to freeze in your car.”
“Yeah, I was knitting.”
“What were you making?”
“Socks. I make a lot of socks. I find them portable and mindless.”
“I like socks. My gran used to knit ones with extra thick soles to wear as slippers.” The bill got paid, and Laird had him up and moving, feeling dazed but happy to go along.
“Making socks is just a good way to keep your hands busy.”
