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“Shut up,” I reply, taking one of his fries and dipping it in ketchup.
“I shit you not. She ran to the highest-priced divorce attorney in the state and attempted to break it off in my ass from day one. Pardon the expression,” he says, cutting his massive cheeseburger in half with a knife and holding it out to me.
My tongue practically hangs out like a dog as I look at what he’s offering me. Even though I have a perfectly good, delicious meal in front of me, I have a sudden craving for his juicy burger.
But I won’t eat his food. That’s rude and completely unfair to him.
These fries, however, are fair game. He did put them in the middle of the table.
I shake my head at his offering and take another fry dipped in ketchup. As I chew, I cut into my chicken-fried steak, but my eyes remained glued to the half of his burger he left on his plate. “She’s always been a petty bitch, so nothing shocks me anymore where she’s concerned,” I state, scooping a small bite of my gravy-covered meat with a dollop of mashed potatoes. The moment I put my food in my mouth and start to chew, it sits heavy on my tongue and takes several long seconds of chewing before I swallow.
It’s not the food.
I’m certain my meal is delicious. In fact, I know it’s a fairly popular menu choice, but for some reason, it’s just not right.
Setting my fork down on my plate, I reach for my glass and take a sip of water as Logan asks, “So, what’s the deal with the douchey ex? He still bothering you?”
I shrug, replacing my glass. “He just thinks I should give him another shot. He’s wrong.”
Logan chews his burger, nodding one time as he swallows. My eyes drop to his plate once more, and I can’t help but wish I would have ordered a burger. Though the mashed potatoes and gravy sounded really good, it’s just not hitting the spot the way I anticipated.
“Here.” Logan hands over the second half of his burger once more.
I open my mouth, prepared to decline again, but my stomach growls, a loud noise triggered by the amazing aroma floating from the food in his hand. Reaching out, I snatch the burger and take a huge bite. “Oh my God. This is amazing,” I state, my eyes practically rolling back in my head as I chew and swallow. I don’t even care I was talking with my mouth open.
“Not bad, huh?” he asks, the hint of a smile on his lips.
After I consume my half of the burger, we end up sharing the rest of his fries, and he munches on my chicken-fried steak, all while I try not to notice how comfortable and easy this feels. Meals were never like this with Curtis, mostly because he was on his phone the entire time and only half listening to anything I said. When we first started dating, I could appreciate his determination and drive, but over time, his main priority remained his work. It became evident I was second to his job, and that’s not where any woman wants to be in a relationship.
“Thank you,” I tell him, feeling stuffed and oddly satisfied, while still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You’re welcome,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
“I can get it. You bought that time I joined you and your mom and Gram,” I insist, reaching for my purse.
“Get used to it, Cupcake. I plan to keep feeding my baby.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks as Susie drops off the check and grabs our empty plates. “How was it?”
“Delicious, as always,” Logan answers, giving me a knowing grin.
My thighs clench together, even though I’m certain that’s not what he meant. “Yes, very good, thank you.”
“I’ll be right back with your change,” Susie announces.
“Keep it,” Logan offers, sliding out of the booth. “Ready?”
We exit the diner together with farewell waves to the staff and step out into the warm August evening air. “Thank you, again, for dinner. You really didn’t have to. And…I’m sorry I ate half your burger. That was rude.”
He grins this boyish, sexy smile that makes my heart do weird things in my chest. I’ll blame that on the pregnancy hormones. “It’s fine, Hal. As long as you’re carrying my baby, you can eat whatever you want off my plate,” he tells me with a shrug.
“You may live to regret that statement,” I quip. I’ve never been one to pick at food on someone else’s plate, but in this case, I might continue to make an exception.
A heavy, slightly uncomfortable air hangs between us. I can feel his eyes on me, even though I don’t glance up to confirm. Instead, I toe at a rock on the sidewalk with my foot.
“Will you call me if you need anything?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I glance up again, finding nothing but sincerity in his dark eyes. “Okay. When I have my first appointment, I can let you know.”
