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“Good idea. I like to keep a man on his toes,” she says through a yawn.
“You want me to leave?” I ask.
She shakes her head and then lays her cheek against me. “What kind of person would I be if I sent you out into the night, milk drunk?” she mumbles.
Five minutes later, her breathing evens out, and I know she’s fallen back asleep.
I tuck one of the small square pillows that garnish the sofa behind my head and join her in slumber.
I awaken to the feeling that someone is watching me, which is jarring.
I jolt up onto my elbows to find Maxi perched on my chest, staring at me.
“You snore,” she states.
“I do? Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t apologize. I like it. It wasn’t loud; it was a rhythmic vibration. I think it actually helped me sleep, like the hum of a fan.”
“Then, you’re welcome,” I tease.
“Where are you taking me to eat?” she asks.
“I didn’t know I was.”
She sits up suddenly, straddling me, and punches me lightly in the gut. “What kind of girl do you think I am? You can’t just spend the night with me and not buy me breakfast in the morning. I thought you were a gentleman,” she cries.
I lean up to meet her nose to nose. “You keep moving on top of me like that, and you’ll find out how ungentlemanly I can be,” I warn.
She grins and bears down on my morning wood.
I groan.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Tuttle,” she dares and then stands and trots off down the hall. She stops at the bathroom door and calls back over her shoulder, “I call first dibs on the shower. You think about where we’re going. Keep in mind, I like biscuits and gravy.”
Maxi
After Corbin showers, he throws on the same clothes he had on yesterday, and we head out in his truck. He takes me to The Buttered Biscuit, which he promises makes the best biscuits and sausage gravy in town, outside of his mother’s.
There is a line outside the door, and Corbin leaves me on a bench to put his name on the list. Once he rejoins me, several of the people milling about come over to greet us and chat with him.
It’s obvious that the townspeople respect him. They offer him handshakes and brag about his work at the fire station. Many of them inquire after his parents and brothers. I feel like I’m getting a peek into the window of his life.
When his name is called, we are escorted to a booth, and the waitress offers us coffee.
“Do you kids know what you want?” she asks.
“We haven’t gotten menus,” I reply.
“It’s all biscuits. Egg, sausage, bacon, livermush, country ham, chicken, pork chop, cheese, butter and jam, honey, or gravy. You can do any combination of those. On a biscuit,” she prattles off.
“Okay, I’ll have a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit with a gravy biscuit on the side,” I order.
“And I’ll have three livermush biscuits, extra crispy, with mustard. Thank you, May,” Corbin adds.
He offers me the cream and sugar, and I doctor my coffee.
“What’s the plan for the day?” he asks.
