Page 15 of Blade

Fuck me.

I like the twinkle in her eyes. “Do you have toaster waffles?”

Fuck. Me.

“I don’t. I’ll add them to the list. How about pancakes?”

She beams. “I love pancakes.”

“Then pancakes it is. Anything else? Bacon? Eggs?” Surely, I can get some protein in her.

“Bacon is gross. It smells good, but when it’s undercooked, it’s nasty, and when it’s overcooked, it’s too crunchy.” She shudders.

She is the Littlest Little who ever existed without knowing it. I’ve hit the Little lottery.

“Bacon is out then, but apparently, you don’t mind if I eat it because the scent doesn’t bother you.”

She gives me a firm nod, pulling her shoulders back. My ability to have this discourse with her without being a dickhead about it is giving her the confidence to keep talking.

“What about eggs? Yay? Nay?”

“Eggs are good if they’re scrambled, but they have to be cooked all the way. Runny is nasty.” She sticks a finger in her open mouth, feigning gagging.

“Got it. Fully cooked scrambled eggs. Any other types of egg for future reference?”

She bites her lip and stares at me, hesitating.

I close the small space between us, cup her shoulders, and slide my hands up to her neck. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t be yourself with me, June. Be exactly who you are. I will never judge you. Right now, we’re just discussing eggs.”

“I like egg salad if it has the right amounts of mayonnaise and mustard on white toast without crust. Oddly, I don’t like mayonnaise or mustard in any other combination.”

“That’s not odd. They taste totally different mixed together with eggs. I eat egg salad, too, and I don’t normally eat mustard on other foods.”

Her eyes are wide, and she graces me with a giant smile. My approval of her food quirks is huge to June and earning me brownie points left and right.

“When I make egg salad, I’ll let you help me add the mayo and mustard so we get it just right.”

“Thank you.” She leans forward, wrapping her arms around me. She holds me tight, even with her broken arm.

When she releases me, I kiss the top of her head and angle her toward the island in the swivel chair. “Hands on the counter so you don’t fall, Little one.”

She giggles as she flattens her good palm on the surface. Her other hand isn’t much help, but she sets it on the granite anyway.

“What do you like to drink, silly girl?” I ask as I head for the fridge.

“Juice?”

I turn around. “Are you asking me?” I tease.

Another giggle. “Do you have apple juice?”

“Nope. Only orange. I’ll add it to the list. I have orange juice. Milk. Water. Flavored water.”

Her eyes light up. “The sparkling kind?”

“Yes.” I swear, I shall live my life to please this woman. It’s worth it to see her face. I open the fridge. “Let’s see… Mandarin orange, strawberry-kiwi, black cherry.”

“Yes! Black cherry.”