Page 105 of The Elusive Billionaire
Resting my chin on top of her head, I hold her more tightly around the waist. “I have no idea what a meet-cute is, but dating I can do something about. Come on.”
I hold my hand out to hers, palm up, silently praying she’ll meet me halfway.
When her hand slides into mine, another one of my walls comes crumbling down, and I lead her from our room.
“Grey, it’s late,” she whispers when I gently nudge her onto a stool at the kitchen island. “We’re going to wake everyone up.”
“Then I suggest you be quiet.” Moving through the kitchen, I quickly grab what I need to make blueberry pancakes and bacon, then set it all on the counter.
Savvy sighs, and I can feel her irritation from across the room. “Is this going to be your thing now? Trying to feed me? Do you have a note on your phone about all the calories I’ve consumed?”
My stomach chooses that moment to shut her up with a loud growl. “I happen to be starving, so can you just sit back and try to enjoy our first official date?”
“A, you never asked me on a date. And B? It’s one in the freaking morning, Patch. This isn’t a date.”
I shrug. “I beg to differ.” I slip a plate of bacon into the microwave and set it for three minutes, then dump the pancake ingredients into a mixing bowl.
“This is your kind of date?” Her arms are crossed as she studies me.
“Actually.” I pause and really think about it. “Yeah, dating for me in the past has been a means to an end. Dinner, drinks, fuck.”
“So romantic.”
I whisk harder, then add a dash of cinnamon and vanilla before spraying a pan and dropping a ladleful of batter in.
“That’s the thing,” I say. My back is to her as I scatter blueberries through the half-cooked batter. “Romance never had anything to do with it.”
“And it does now?” This is the feisty woman who gave me no choice but to fall in love with her.
“You’re wearing my ring, Savannah. The only thing that matters is romance.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch how her thumb swings the diamond around her finger.
“So you’re an expert on romance now?”
It’s my turn to scoff. “Far from it. Before Braxton and Madi, the only healthy, loving relationships I’d ever seen were between a bunch of dudes and a kid. Ace, Brax, Sage, and I? Yeah, that’s unbreakable love, but romance? I’d never seen it in action until the moment I walked into that bar and saw Madi lose her ever-loving shit over my brother being auctioned off for charity.”
A wide grin spreads across her face. “That wasn’t love, Grey. That was jealousy, pure and simple.”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug, then flip the pancake over. “But that kind of jealousy stems from love—I saw it in both their faces. And it intrigued me enough that I spent the next few months watching their interactions. Somewhere between fucking you in pantries and carrying you through mud piles, I realized that’s what I wanted, not the mind-numbing meaningless dinner dates and unfulfilling fucks. But late-night pancakes and pillow walls that never stood a chance.”
“I think I liked you better when you grunted answers. This talkative side of you is unnerving,” she grumbles.
I place two pancakes on a plate and remove the bacon from the microwave.
From the cupboard, I grab the real maple syrup Madi hides from Pops—that old menace would probably drink the stuff straight from the bottle if she didn’t—and place it on the counter.
My palms spread flat against the cool granite, and I lean over the top of the plate I placed in the center.
“Now, the real question is, are you a dipper or a soaker?”
Savvy frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“There are two kinds of pancake eaters. Do you dip, or do you soak them in syrup?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Oh, it matters. Think of it this way. Dipping is like having nice, boring, vanilla sex. Soaking every inch of the cake is like the messiest, dirtiest, most hardcore fucking there is. And I already know how you like to fuck, so I’m wondering…do you dip, or do you soak?”
