“You haven’t?” Her eyebrow lifts in disbelief.
“Nope. Scouts honor.” I tap two fingers to my temple.
“You were a boy scout?”
“Lasted a day.” I grin. “But it’s the truth about the food. I just broke my breakfast virginity with you.”
Her cheeks turn deep pink.
Too much?
Like I care. I want her. Bad. Fuck everything I’ve said these last few days about staying away. I can’t. I’m not holding back with her anymore. There’s something here with Mia, and I have to find out what it is.
Our gaze holds for one beat … two…
She looks away to the food. “The waffles look really yummy. Well, it all looks yummy. And the pancakes look … delicious, and the toast is…” She’s stumbling on her words. It’s cute to watch.
“Toast,” I finish for her with a chuckle.
As if on cue, her cheeks flush again. She starts to chew on the inside of her lip. Watching her do that makes my c**k pulse and my heart race.
“You should eat. You missed dinner last night.” I push the tray toward her.
She pinches her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger. “I am quite hungry.”
Tentatively, she reaches out and picks up a waffle, putting it on her plate.
I sit and watch as she pours maple syrup on the waffle, then lifts it to her mouth and takes a bite. Her eyes close on the food, and the small moan that escapes her stands my guy to attention.
Fuck. Me.
It sounds exactly like the moans I spent most of last night imagining her making.
I shift in my seat, tilting my body from her view, then cross my leg over the other to hide the boner I’m now sporting.
I dig into the pancakes and start piling them up on my plate.
Dozer trots over and lies by my chair, giving me the doe eyes.
I take a pancake off my plate and give it to him. When I look up, Mia’s gazing at me with a smile.
My chest starts to ache again.
“This is a good waffle,” she says, tearing off another piece and putting it in her mouth. “Am I okay, to give Dozer some?” She gestures to my greedy ass dog who has swallowed the pancake I just gave him whole, and is now eyeballing the food in Mia’s hand.
“Sure.” I smile.
“Here, Dozer.” She pats her leg, holding out the rest of her waffle to him.
Dozer is over there quick flash. Taking the waffle, he swallows it whole, then lays his head on her knee, gazing up at her for more.
And that’s how the rest of breakfast goes. Dozer having Mia’s full attention while she continues to feed him her breakfast, in-between feeding herself.
And I sit here watching. Like the third f**king wheel.
Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I’m getting c**k blocked by my dog. Dozer and I are going to be having a serious man to man chat.
I’m feeling pretty relieved that we’ll be out of here soon, and I’ll get to have a little one on one time with her.
Yes, I’m completely aware of how pathetic I sound. You don’t need to tell me.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Mia says, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “It was delicious.” She rises from her chair, handing me her plate. I put it on the tray.
“Are you sure you’ve eaten enough? Dozer had most of it.” I nod at him, passed out on the floor, content with all the food he’s had from her.
“I’m good.” She presses her hand to her stomach indicating that she’s full.
I don’t know how she can be after the small amount she ate, but then she is only a tiny thing.
“You want a hand clearing away?” she offers.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just dump them in the kitchen and wash them later. You ready to head out for Farmington now?”
She pauses by the chair, her fingers gripping the edge of it. “Sure.” She smiles.
It’s one of her forced smiles. I’ve gotten pretty used to recognizing them over the last couple of days.
I lift the tray, balancing it on my forearm. “We can go later if you want?”
She contemplates this for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. We should go now.” Her eyes meet mine. “If I don’t, I’ll chicken out.”
Chapter Twelve
Mia
“My car or yours?” Jordan asks.
I look between his Mustang and my Mercedes.
The Mercedes that Oliver bought me two years ago. The day after he’d broken my arm.
Apparently he didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident.
It didn’t feel like an accident.
The car was supposed to be an apology.
All it did, all it does, is remind me of my weaknesses. Remind me of my life before now. Of every single beating before and after it.
It reminds me of him … them.
“Yours,” I reply. “If that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” Smiling, Jordan pulls his keys from the pocket of his jeans.
“I’ll pay for gas,” I say as I walk toward his car. I don’t want Jordan to think I’m taking advantage of his kind nature.
He stops by the hood, the smile quickly changing to a frown. “No way.” He shakes his head.
“Of course I’m going to pay for the gas you’re using to do me a favor.” I open the door and slide onto the leather seat.
The car dips as Jordan folds his tall, lean body into the car. “No way. I’m not taking any money from you for gas. End of.” His tone is forceful.