Page 11
Story: Because of Logan
Okay, new subject, I think.
“Are you going to eat all that?”
I point at the giant muffin.
She laughs as her gaze drops. She’s shy. “It might take me a couple of tries, but I think I can tame this monster.”
I break off a chunk of the large slice of lemon pound cake and save the three chocolate chip cookies for last.
“You have a sweet tooth too, I see.”
Her eyes land on mine and move away again as if she’s unsure of where to look, but her shoulders drop, and her gaze lingers a little longer each time.
“If you make a donut joke, I’ll give you that ticket after all,” I say but follow it with a laugh so she knows I’m teasing. “Yes, I have a weak spot for sweets, and this”—I pick up one of the chocolate chip cookies—“is my greatest weakness.”
“Oh, Pat’s cookies are good, but mine are better,” she whispers with a guilty look toward the counter where Pat is.
I don’t look back as to not give away that we’re talking about her.
“I love to bake. You should eat my cookies. You’d love them.”
I can’t help the smirk that comes over my face.
“I want to eat your cookies, and I know I’ll love them.”
I know she did not mean the double entendre as I did, but I can’t help myself.
Her eyes go wide as she gets my meaning.
“Sorry,” I’m quick to apologize. “I’m teasing. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Skye sighs, and her shoulders drop a little more. The tension leaves her, and she settles into her seat, either finally relaxed in my presence or defeated, accepting there’s no forgetting the embarrassing moments we shared a day ago. I sense it’s the latter, and it bothers me.
I watch as she picks up her mug with both hands, brings it to her lips, and blows on it. Steam and the scent of chocolate hang in the space between us. She licks her lips before taking a tentative sip, and finding the temperature acceptable, she takes a long drink. Her eyes close in bliss as the flavors of her chocolate cappuccino touch her tongue. The entire moment lasts no more than a few seconds, but it’s so sensual, so captivating—I’m utterly lost in it. My pants get tighter. I shift, trying to give my inconvenient growing erection a little space. She opens her eyes and a smile of pure joy graces her face. There’s no subterfuge. Her innocent enjoyment of the drink in her hands turns me on even more. I’m surprised by the appeal it has to me.
She puts the cup down on the table, small hands still wrapped around it.
“This weekend was a disaster. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my entire life. And believe me, I have stories to tell.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It was the perfect ending for a boring night. I don’t remember ever having so much fun on a traffic stop.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Glad someone enjoyed it.”
Her words drip with sarcasm.
There’s a little fire to her after all. I find that I’m enjoying myself and her company. There’s something about this cute and awkward girl that makes me feel lighter. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this carefree.
“So you have a birthday coming soon, right?”
I know her birthdate because I read it on her twin’s driver’s license.
She looks confused and I clarify.
“Friday night, or Saturday morning, rather, your sister said you had a birthday coming.”
She averts her eyes, remembering the exact circumstances in which her birthday had been mentioned and what her sister had said she’d get her.
“Are you going to eat all that?”
I point at the giant muffin.
She laughs as her gaze drops. She’s shy. “It might take me a couple of tries, but I think I can tame this monster.”
I break off a chunk of the large slice of lemon pound cake and save the three chocolate chip cookies for last.
“You have a sweet tooth too, I see.”
Her eyes land on mine and move away again as if she’s unsure of where to look, but her shoulders drop, and her gaze lingers a little longer each time.
“If you make a donut joke, I’ll give you that ticket after all,” I say but follow it with a laugh so she knows I’m teasing. “Yes, I have a weak spot for sweets, and this”—I pick up one of the chocolate chip cookies—“is my greatest weakness.”
“Oh, Pat’s cookies are good, but mine are better,” she whispers with a guilty look toward the counter where Pat is.
I don’t look back as to not give away that we’re talking about her.
“I love to bake. You should eat my cookies. You’d love them.”
I can’t help the smirk that comes over my face.
“I want to eat your cookies, and I know I’ll love them.”
I know she did not mean the double entendre as I did, but I can’t help myself.
Her eyes go wide as she gets my meaning.
“Sorry,” I’m quick to apologize. “I’m teasing. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Skye sighs, and her shoulders drop a little more. The tension leaves her, and she settles into her seat, either finally relaxed in my presence or defeated, accepting there’s no forgetting the embarrassing moments we shared a day ago. I sense it’s the latter, and it bothers me.
I watch as she picks up her mug with both hands, brings it to her lips, and blows on it. Steam and the scent of chocolate hang in the space between us. She licks her lips before taking a tentative sip, and finding the temperature acceptable, she takes a long drink. Her eyes close in bliss as the flavors of her chocolate cappuccino touch her tongue. The entire moment lasts no more than a few seconds, but it’s so sensual, so captivating—I’m utterly lost in it. My pants get tighter. I shift, trying to give my inconvenient growing erection a little space. She opens her eyes and a smile of pure joy graces her face. There’s no subterfuge. Her innocent enjoyment of the drink in her hands turns me on even more. I’m surprised by the appeal it has to me.
She puts the cup down on the table, small hands still wrapped around it.
“This weekend was a disaster. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my entire life. And believe me, I have stories to tell.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It was the perfect ending for a boring night. I don’t remember ever having so much fun on a traffic stop.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Glad someone enjoyed it.”
Her words drip with sarcasm.
There’s a little fire to her after all. I find that I’m enjoying myself and her company. There’s something about this cute and awkward girl that makes me feel lighter. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this carefree.
“So you have a birthday coming soon, right?”
I know her birthdate because I read it on her twin’s driver’s license.
She looks confused and I clarify.
“Friday night, or Saturday morning, rather, your sister said you had a birthday coming.”
She averts her eyes, remembering the exact circumstances in which her birthday had been mentioned and what her sister had said she’d get her.
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