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She glances outside. “I’m not driving from here though.”
I coat my pancakes with butter and syrup, no fruit. “I’ll be right next to you.”
“Next to me while we drive off a cliff.” She cuts her pancakes in half, positions the four pieces separately on her plate, and tops each with a different fruit.
“That’s what guardrails are for.” I wink.
She chuckles then stares at her plate. “Should we wager on which one is my favorite?”
“I’ll go with strawberries.”
“I’m going with banana,” she counters, cutting up the one with blueberries first.
“You know I might have an inside track on this.”
She shakes her head. “If you would’ve bet me last week if I liked that soufflé, you would’ve said no, so you actually don’t.”
“Touché.” I nod at her to start eating.
I cut a forkful from my stack and pile it into my mouth, wishing we had some bacon. But I’m too lazy to actually make it, and I’m enjoying the game Lucy’s playing with herself.
She chews then suddenly stops. “It just burst in my mouth.” She laughs, her teeth blue.
I pick up a blueberry from the bowl and pop it in my mouth. “That’s the best part.”
“Not for me. Although I do like the taste.”
“Maybe try a muffin tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” She points at me with her fork right before she digs into her strawberry pancake. “Hmm…” She swallows. “I did enjoy that one.”
I wink because it’ll be the winner in the end.
“Now for the one that’s actually going to be the winner.”
“Hey now, you keep talking like that and I’m going to make an argument about you not being fair with your decision.”
Her laughter rings through the entire downstairs. I swear it’s still the best sound I’ve ever heard. When we had the impromptu party over here last week, she laughed too, but not when it was just the two of us.
She puts the banana pancake in her mouth and looks at the ceiling. “It’s okay. I like it, but it’s not my favorite.”
I grin.
“See? I didn’t lie. Technically you’re the winner so far.”
“And what do I win?” My voice is filled with innuendo I didn’t intend.
The room quiets and she stops moving. I’m not sure either of us can pretend that our thoughts haven’t lingered on sexual ones at times. I’ve caught her looking at me as if she wants to climb me, and every morning, I have to see her wearing no bra under a thin T-shirt. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to corner her and show her how the sex was between us.
“If you win, I’ll drive today,” she says.
“Deal,” I say, eager to get the thought of screwing her on this counter and eating blueberries and strawberries off her body out of my head.
“Okay then, last one.” She puts the pancake with raspberries in her mouth, chews once, and heads over to the sink, spitting it out. “I can’t do it. All these little things exploded in my mouth.”
I laugh and finish off the rest of my pancakes. “So is it safe to say I win?”
Turning around, she plucks a paper towel off the rack and wipes her mouth. “I always loved strawberries?” she asks, seeming a little disappointed.
