Page 28 of Taking What's Ours

“No problem. There aren’t too many dishes I make well, but an omelet I can pull off.”

I get myself a glass of juice and set out some plates and silverware.

Before I know it, she’s carrying over the skillet and sliding one big omelet on my plate.

“I thought we could just cut it in half.”

“Good thinking.” I grab a knife and do the honors, sliding one half onto her plate.

She returns the skillet to the stove and slips onto her chair, tucking a leg under her.

Forking off a piece, I shove it in my mouth and moan around the bite. “Hmm. That’s good.”

“So, you’ve got a motorcycle, huh?”

I still as I slip the fork from my mouth. “Yeah. Didn’t I mention that?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh. Thought I did.”

“How long have you ridden?”

“I don’t know. I guess since right after I got out of the service. Have you ever been on one?” I ask.

“Never had the opportunity. I never knew anyone with a motorcycle before.”

“And what’s your opinion on them?”

She shrugs. “Don’t really have one.”

“I’ll have to give you a ride, just so you can make an informed decision.”

She grins. “I’d like that. You’re a good rider? Safe on it, I mean, right?”

“Absolutely. I’d never endanger your life, angel. Not a chance.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and I demolish my half.

She looks at my plate. “Guess you really were starving.”

“Guess I was.” My gaze meanders over her as she studies her plate. Her skin looks smooth as silk, and I want to let the back of my fingers trail down her arm. Hell, I want to do more than that. I long to cup my hand around her nape and drag her to me for a taste of her mouth.

She sips her juice. “How’s your thumb doing?”

Glancing down, I hide the bloody bandage from her. “It’s fine. All good.”

“You sure?” she asks, like she doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah.” I stand, knowing I need to get her out of here before I do something stupid, like make a move on her. “I’m pretty tired. You must be, too. Why don’t you hit the hay, and I’ll clean up in here?”

She stands, nervously. “Are you sure? I could help.”

“No, you go on. And here…” I move to the counter and give her the remaining slice of ham in the package. “Here’s a treat for Rosie.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She takes it and moves to the door. “Well, goodnight, Dylan.”

“Goodnight, Elaina. Be sure to lock up.” I watch her until she’s safely inside the apartment, then close the door and lean against it, wondering how much longer I’ll be able to hold out.

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