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And this place wasn’t a wild place. There were regular breakfast items on the menu.
Meaning…
“I’ll have four eggs, over easy. Two orders of bacon. Two orders of toast.” I faltered. “Do y’all have avocado toast?”
She shook her head, so I scrunched up my nose. “Okay, then I’ll have one pancake.”
“One pancake?” Cannel drawled from beside me. “That’s it? One?”
I shrugged. “I want something sweet. But if I have three pancakes, then I’ll eat three pancakes. And I only want one.”
Not to mention that the pancakes were the size of my head.
I only needed one because one was actually three regular-sized ones.
The waitress took Cannel’s order next, making me smile with amusement.
“I’ll have three pancakes.” She continued. “Two eggs, over medium, and one order of bacon.”
The waitress looked at Cannel with a narrowed glare. “You’re sure?”
Cannel’s eye twitched. “Sure.”
The waitress shrugged then left without another word.
“So you like blueberry muffins?” she asked teasingly.
“Actually,” I admitted, grimacing slightly. “Not that much to be honest. I’m more of a pumpkin or a banana nut muffin kind of person. However, the one time that I came here, I asked if I could have the blueberry ones because the banana nut one she gave me tasted like they used salt instead of sugar. And now she thinks they’re my favorites.”
She started to giggle, and I watched, enraptured, as that sound seemed to pierce the thickness of my chest and wrap around my heart.
“Do you think she’ll bring you a blueberry muffin even though you didn’t order one? I wonder if she’ll get suspicious because of that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t come here often enough for that to matter, truthfully. I think, out of everyone here, she’s the only one that would even notice.”
“Why is that?” She batted her eyelashes at me.
She knew exactly why.
“She finds me attractive,” I droned.
She scoffed. “She finds you more than attractive. She’d have your babies for you if you only asked her. Or hell, she’d probably do it if you told her. That alpha male vibe you have going on is incredibly...” She lifted her hands and mimicked claws. “Rawr.”
I rolled my eyes just in time to see the waitress come out with a fuckin’ blueberry muffin on a plate, along with our drinks.
“Thanks,” I drawled as she sat it down in front of me, along with an extra mug of coffee I didn’t order. Again, assuming, just because one time I’d done it, that that was what I always wanted.
“Oh, no problem!” she chirped. “I made sure to get a fresh one that they just pulled from the oven. Be careful, it might be kind of hot.”
“Oh, do you mind getting me some milk?” Cannel asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes all over again. “I can’t eat blueberry muffins without milk.”
The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, anger leeching into her features.
“Sure,” she replied sharply. “I’ll get that out as soon as I get y’all’s orders put in.”
She walked away with an exaggerated huff, and Cannel pulled the blueberry muffin over to her with a smile. “I, however, do like blueberry muffins. I also like them most when they’re really hot. With milk.”
“You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t spit in it,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t do that. Mainly because this is the place where you can watch them making your food. They’re famous because there’s a large man that makes all the food in the back, and he has like four kitchen staff that help him plate everything. They actually subscribe to his channel and everything.”
She pulled out her phone and pulled up something through the browser. Once she was where she wanted, she propped her phone up against the extra mug of coffee between the two of us. There, we watched a very large, very tattooed, very muscular, very intimidating, badass biker prepare our food.
And Cannel was correct. The waitress didn’t spit in our food.
She did, however, ‘drop’ Cannel’s food, apologizing fakely as she said, “I’ll get right on getting you another stack of pancakes.”
I rolled my eyes and passed over my single pancake.
Cannel stared at it in awe. “That’s a big pancake.”
“It is,” I confirmed. “You can bring me another one when you’re done. We’ll just keep the one pancake.”
The waitress looked like she’d swallowed something bitter.
“I was so wrong.” Cannel giggled as she finished off the last couple of bites of her muffin. My muffin.
Then she had to go and ruin the sweet by licking her fingers of the blueberry juices, making me go hard without a single thought to where we were at, and what we were doing, and how inappropriate it was to have a hard-on in the middle of a damn diner.
“About what?” I croaked.
Her phone pinged.
I forced myself to look back toward my breakfast, picking up my fork and cutting into my eggs.
