Page 15 of What Haunts the Heart
“Really worked up an appetite last night, huh?” Oakley’s smile was almost wicked. He licked his lips. “We could always skip breakfast and go straight to dessert.”
I huffed. “I’m hungry for real food. Your dick ain’t gonna cut it this time, babe, sorry.”
“I guess we’re going out for breakfast, then.” He downed the rest of his coffee in a few long gulps, then stood and set the mug in the sink.
“Oh, and wear comfy shoes,” I called after him. “After breakfast, we’re going shopping. You need a costume to wear to the Halloween party, you know.”
I could hear the amusement in his voice as he said, “Joyful,” and disappeared down the hall. The shower kicked on with a hiss-squeal of pipes, and I returned to browsing Reddit on my phone while I savored my cup of liquid caffeine.
My stomach gurgled the whole time I was putting on clothes. I settled on a pair of my favorite jeans and a light sweater, since the days were getting more and more nippy. I ran some styling gel through my hair to give it a littleoomphwhen Oakley came up behind me.
Naked.
I spun on him, one finger raised in warning. “Ah-ah-ah.”
He pouted out his lips. “You’re no fun.”
“We aren’t traipsing around town smelling like sex.”
He stepped in a little closer, his fingertips grazing my cheek. “But I like it when you smell like me,” he replied softly. His lips curved into a half-smile before he kissed me, and damn it, I was weak for this man.
After a few minutes of groping and kissing like we were starved for one another, my real hunger clamored for attention. I pushed gently at his shoulders and leveled him with a look.
“Oak, seriously, I’m hungry.” My belly growled again. I patted it. “See? A man cannot live on cum alone. There will be plenty of time for that later, I promise.”
With a laugh, I grabbed his hand and off we went.
Breakfast was nothing to write home about, but the place hadn’t changed a bit since that first time we ate here. It had the same homey, country-style vibe, with its plaid-cushioned seats and sunny yellow interior. The wall border even had chickens on it.
The same table we’d shared years prior was open, so I led Oakley over and we sat down. The tabletop was decorated with a hodgepodge of old newspaper clippings, black-and-white pictures and articles about Vale Valley and all of its inhabitants, covered with a thick layer of acrylic. The framed photograph hanging on the wall between us was of Rosemary Vale, the founder of this little town.
A waitress in her forties wandered over, in no big hurry, probably because they weren’t too busy. Her graying auburn hair was twisted up into a messy bun with a pencil stuck through to hold it in place. She slid two laminated menus across the table in front of us and pulled out her scratchpad. “What can I get you two to drink? Ya need a few minutes?”
“Please,” I said. “Just water with lemon, thanks.”
Oakley flashed her a smile. “Coffee, black with two sugars, would be wonderful.”
She scribbled it down with a nod. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“What are you getting?” Oakley asked me as he flipped open the double-sided menu.
“Waffles,” I said. “And bacon.”
He laughed. “You reallydidwork up an appetite!”
“Told you. What about you?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I had their omelet the last time we were here,” he mused. “And I recall it being watery, so that’s a hard pass. I’m spoiled when it comes to eggs. Happens when you grow up with a live-in chef.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I admitted. “Mum couldn’t cook for shit, so I usually foraged. Cereal, oatmeal, blah-blah-blah. Half the time we didn’t have milk and if we did, it was spoiled. Needless to say, I learned how to cook through trial and error. I’ll have to make you eggs sometime, to see how I compare.”
His grin twinkled in his eyes and my heart did a somersault. “I’d love that,” he said. “Hmm. Have you had their biscuits and gravy?”
“Greasy, but good,” I told him. “Not a bad choice. You might get indigestion afterwards, though. Fair warning.”
He patted his flat stomach. “I’ve got a rock gut. I can handle a little grease.”
I smirked. “Your funeral.”
