“I’ve got it, Sugar Tits! You’ll give me diabetes if I let you pour.”
“What? I like syrup with my pancakes!”
“I can see that.” I grin and douse my stack with a conservative amount before cutting a few bites with the side of my fork. “So, when you’re not basking in pancake griddle heaven, what other food do you enjoy this much?”
“Chinese, Thai, Sushi. I love them all. But there’s nothing like a stack of pancakes.” Lexi shovels in another mouthful. A groan of pleasure escapes from where her lips lock around the fork.Fork me. What I wouldn’t give to be a piece of cutlery.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice the sugar tits comment, either. That nickname ends here.” She points the fork in my direction before taking another bite.
My lips pull up with a big ass grin. “I don’t know ... ’CausethatI didn’t promise.” I pop in a mouthful of pancakes.
She shakes her head, rolls those eyes, and takes a sip of juice. “Hey, Trent.” She glances down at her plate, using her fork to push around the sopping mess she’s made of a perfectly delicious breakfast.
“Yeah?”
“I never said thank you.” She lifts her gaze and those eyes pierce me with their sincerity. “Thank you.”
I lick my lips and take a big gulp of coffee. “You’re welcome. For what exactly?”
She smiles and taps her fork against the plate. “Why did you bring me on your bus in Oklahoma?”
That night fills me with sadness and I rub my hands through my hair. “To keep you safe.”
“That’s it? No ulterior motives?”
“Lexi, that night, I ... There was no way I was letting you sleep in Big Betty. Not after what happened. What could have happened. No. I just needed to keep you safe. The best way to do that was in our bus. Simple.”
She scoops up her drenched pancake and brings it to her lips. Oh, those damn lips.“Well, then, thank you,” she whispers before the food goes inside her mouth and she does the groan again.
It’s all I can do to not pounce over the table, claim those lips, and join her in the sound.
“And thanks for not trying to get in my pants.” She grins, wider now, and I feel as though she’s playing some kind of mindfuck game. She’s gotta be on to me, inside my head, knowing I’ve been thinking unprofessional thoughts throughout this entire breakfast.
“Who says I’m not trying to do that?” I go with humor, always my best defense, and it works when she laughs aloud.
“You’re such a manwhore.”
“You got me.” I join in her laugher and pray my little obsession with her mouth dissipates the further into this tour we go. Lexi is a cool chick, more down to earth than I ever imagined, and she deserves the best. More than I could ever give, that much is true.
We finish our food in companionable silence and I hand the server cash before she can set down the check.
“I’ll leave the tip,” Lexi offers.
I take one last drink of coffee and stand up from the booth. “No, I already got it. You ready?”
“Don’t you need to wait for your change?” She slides out of the booth.
“Nah.”
Her eyes widen and she blinks twice. “But you handed her a hundred,” she whispers as if someone might overhear.
I laugh and sling my arm around her shoulder to steer her through the tables and toward the exit. “Like I said, there’s plenty for the tip.” I don’t do it all the time, but when I have a good meal, and a server who does their job efficiently, I enjoy passing on an unexpected tip to a stranger—hopefully making their day brighter.
“Trent Donavan! Is that you?” A woman’s voice calls from behind and while I know I have to turn around, I don’t want to. It’s been so nice having a reprieve from the fame, the special attention, the fake smiles and inflated compliments. Having a real conversation with a real woman. Something I didn’t know I even needed or wanted.
I turn, a casual expression plastered on my face, and brace myself for a line of autograph seeking fans. Only it’s not a fan, and I’m overcome with surprise at seeing a familiar face. “Cora!”
“Trent!” Her big screen smile strides over from a corner of the diner. “What are you doing here?”
