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Of course he has a favorite.
Unlike other patrons who aren’t the biggest fans of my family, she greets me with a friendly smile while we sit down, and she takes our orders.
No matter what other people think about my family, Shirley has never let outside influence change her opinion of me. In high school, I’d come to the diner to do homework, and Shirley always brought me free milkshakes.
I order a coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast. If I’m stuck with him, I might as well eat.
“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” Kyle asks from across the booth when our food is dropped off.
“I don’t have one,” I answer with honesty.
He dramatically gasps at my answer. “What? Who doesn’t have a favorite breakfast food? Pancakes or waffles with delicious maple syrup.” He tips his head back and groans. “Mmm … chicken and waffles.”
Goose bumps run up my arms. His food-loving groan turns me on.
I am ridiculous.
When he glimpses at me, I shrug, acting like I wasn’t imagining him making the same groan while inside me. “I grew up on generic cereal and toast, so I wouldn’t consider any of those as my favorite.”
Even now that I can afford decent breakfast foods, it’s never been my thing—most likely because of skipping meals in college in favor of studying.
His eyebrows scrunch together. “I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with not having a favorite breakfast food?”
I straighten my napkin in my lap. “I’m not a breakfast person. Sue me.”
He points his fork in my direction, syrup dripping from the ends. “One day, I’ll make you breakfast in bed. You’ll eat my pancakes while naked and love every bite. Watch and see.”
I snort. “You’ve lost your mind.”
This conversation needs to take a different turn, pronto. It’s making me imagine things I shouldn’t. Eating his pancakes while nakeddoessound like a fun time.
He drops his fork and focuses all his attention on me. “All right then. Chloe Fieldgain is not a breakfast person; got it. Let’s move on to the next question. What is your favorite food then?”
I chew on my lower lip. “I don’t have a favorite food.”
I’m not a foodie. I live on a diet of salads and quick meals. It’s not entertaining, cooking for one.
He gapes at me. “Everyone has a favorite food, Chloe. If you picked one thing to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
I hate the question. It’s a typical first-date question that no one has ever asked me.
Shit.
This is most definitely not a date.
I drum my fingers against the table while thinking. “Uh … grilled chicken, I guess.”
“Grilled chicken?” he slowly repeats in a disapproving tone, making me feel judged. “Grilled chicken is the one thing you’d pick to eat for the rest of your life?”
I shrug. “Why not? It’s healthy and easy to make.”
I had my fair share of cooking for four when I was younger. It’s a chore now.
He gives me a confident smile. “Jesus, as your neighbor, I’m officially taking it upon myself to change your favorite meal into something less boring.”
I glare at him in reluctance. “All right then, favorite meal judge, what’s yours?”
It doesn’t take him but a second to answer. “Pussy.” The word falls from his lips with pride and no shame, as if he’d said it was chocolate cake.
