butterfly disco. “You remembered that?”
She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his response.
*
Logan froze. Was that panic in Emma’s eyes? Was it creepy that he remembered what she’d ordered for breakfast eight years ago?
Yes. Yes, it is. Logan’s inner voice sounded a whole hell of a lot like Lucky.
Shit.
He didn’t want to tell her about his photographic or eidetic memory. Maybe it was just a knee jerk reaction because of how badly people had responded to it in his childhood, but the last thing he wanted was for her to know. Still, he needed to pull himself out of the hole he’d just dug, and he needed to do it fast. All he’d wanted to do was make her a nice breakfast, not get into a discussion of why he had some freakish mutation that allowed him to store information like a computer.
Grabbing a large fork full of eggs that he’d made for himself, he nodded. “Yeah. Mainly because of how you lit into that girl I was with.” Then he stuck the food-filled utensil in his mouth, surprised there was room with the foot currently residing in it.
Emma’s brow pulled together just above the bridge of her nose and Logan could see that she was fervently trying to remember what he was talking about. Then she shook her head. “I don’t remember… I don’t think I lit into any…” As she stopped mid word, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Oooooh, that’s right. What was that girl’s name? Lisa or Libby…”
“Lia,” Logan interjected. “I remember you giving her one hell of an earful about the nutritional benefits of your breakfast.”
Scrunching her nose in what was quite possibly the cutest expression ever , Emma dropped her eyes to the table as she tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think I was that bad.”
Logan made it a general rule not to waste his time arguing with anyone over anything if he didn’t absolutely have to, but letting this subject drop was just not going to happen. “It was. You told her, loudly , that your well-balanced breakfast had every one of the food groups covered. Milk. Grain. Meat. Fruit. Then you proceeded to go into detail about how exactly they were represented in your meal.”
Even if he hadn’t had a photographic memory, he would’ve remembered that breakfast. Lia, who he’d hooked up with the night before and had invited herself to join him and his friends, had ordered an egg-whites-only omelet and argued with the waitress about how they didn’t have three different types of peppers to put in it. He had cringed at every word the girl had said.
Then, when their food had arrived, she’d made a snide comment about what Emma had ordered. In return, Emma had put her firmly in her place. In Emma’s place-putting speech she’d not only explained why her meal was balanced nutritionally, but she’d also waxed poetic about how every taste complemented the other. The sweet tartness of the muffin was the perfect counterpart for the salty goodness of the bacon. The tart citrus of the orange juice was the yin to the bitter sharpness of the rich java.
It was a beautiful moment he’d always remembered fondly.
This morning, with Drew’s words hanging over his head about no one taking care of her and the long days she’d had, he’d wanted to do something nice for her, so he’d taken a chance that this was still her breakfast of choice. Since he’d never heard someone speak so passionately about any meal before, he’d figured he had a better-than-fifty-fifty chance that it was.
“Oh.” A light shade of pink flushed on her smooth cheeks. “I think I do remember something about that,” she said right before pulling a huge chunk off the top of one muffin and stuffing it in her mouth.
“You do, huh?” he practically growled. He was fighting the strongest urge to wipe off the small piece of crumb that had landed on her chin. Actually, he had the urge to kiss it off. Or lick it off.
Totally oblivious to his inappropriate-urge
She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his response.
*
Logan froze. Was that panic in Emma’s eyes? Was it creepy that he remembered what she’d ordered for breakfast eight years ago?
Yes. Yes, it is. Logan’s inner voice sounded a whole hell of a lot like Lucky.
Shit.
He didn’t want to tell her about his photographic or eidetic memory. Maybe it was just a knee jerk reaction because of how badly people had responded to it in his childhood, but the last thing he wanted was for her to know. Still, he needed to pull himself out of the hole he’d just dug, and he needed to do it fast. All he’d wanted to do was make her a nice breakfast, not get into a discussion of why he had some freakish mutation that allowed him to store information like a computer.
Grabbing a large fork full of eggs that he’d made for himself, he nodded. “Yeah. Mainly because of how you lit into that girl I was with.” Then he stuck the food-filled utensil in his mouth, surprised there was room with the foot currently residing in it.
Emma’s brow pulled together just above the bridge of her nose and Logan could see that she was fervently trying to remember what he was talking about. Then she shook her head. “I don’t remember… I don’t think I lit into any…” As she stopped mid word, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Oooooh, that’s right. What was that girl’s name? Lisa or Libby…”
“Lia,” Logan interjected. “I remember you giving her one hell of an earful about the nutritional benefits of your breakfast.”
Scrunching her nose in what was quite possibly the cutest expression ever , Emma dropped her eyes to the table as she tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think I was that bad.”
Logan made it a general rule not to waste his time arguing with anyone over anything if he didn’t absolutely have to, but letting this subject drop was just not going to happen. “It was. You told her, loudly , that your well-balanced breakfast had every one of the food groups covered. Milk. Grain. Meat. Fruit. Then you proceeded to go into detail about how exactly they were represented in your meal.”
Even if he hadn’t had a photographic memory, he would’ve remembered that breakfast. Lia, who he’d hooked up with the night before and had invited herself to join him and his friends, had ordered an egg-whites-only omelet and argued with the waitress about how they didn’t have three different types of peppers to put in it. He had cringed at every word the girl had said.
Then, when their food had arrived, she’d made a snide comment about what Emma had ordered. In return, Emma had put her firmly in her place. In Emma’s place-putting speech she’d not only explained why her meal was balanced nutritionally, but she’d also waxed poetic about how every taste complemented the other. The sweet tartness of the muffin was the perfect counterpart for the salty goodness of the bacon. The tart citrus of the orange juice was the yin to the bitter sharpness of the rich java.
It was a beautiful moment he’d always remembered fondly.
This morning, with Drew’s words hanging over his head about no one taking care of her and the long days she’d had, he’d wanted to do something nice for her, so he’d taken a chance that this was still her breakfast of choice. Since he’d never heard someone speak so passionately about any meal before, he’d figured he had a better-than-fifty-fifty chance that it was.
“Oh.” A light shade of pink flushed on her smooth cheeks. “I think I do remember something about that,” she said right before pulling a huge chunk off the top of one muffin and stuffing it in her mouth.
“You do, huh?” he practically growled. He was fighting the strongest urge to wipe off the small piece of crumb that had landed on her chin. Actually, he had the urge to kiss it off. Or lick it off.
Totally oblivious to his inappropriate-urge
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