Page 24 of The Cutting Edge
“So you live with your boss. Your friend. Not a boyfriend, or husband?” he says like he has no ulterior motive whatsoever. It’s all I can do to keep from grinning like an idiot.
“My best friend. Who’s also my boss. Are you trying to super-casually suss out if I’m single?” I tease, “Because you could just ask me.”
“Who me? No. I’mmuchsmoother than that.”
Logan hands me silverware, a plastic lobster shell cracker, and a napkin, then opens the lobster container in front of me, and then the one in front of him.
“Pick your crustacean – this one or that one.”
“This one is perfect, thank you so much,” I say, indicating the one in front of me.
“Speaking of ‘the one,’ are you dating anyone?”
“Wow, that wasverysmooth,” I tease Logan. His eyes are dancing, full of mischief.
“I know, right? It’s all about the transitions.”
“Ah, I see. No, I’m not dating anyone.”
“Good to know,” he smiles. He opens up the container of lobster mac and cheese next, “We’re a bit short on space on your tray table here. Do you mind if we just share?”I don’t know. Do you have any paperwork showing you’ve clean-tested for boy cooties in the last 6 months?”
“I do,” he says, patting imaginary pockets on his chest, “but I seem to have left them in my other jacket.”
“IguessI’ll let you slide this time,” I say, batting my eyelashes for emphasis.
“You’re a kind and generous person,” he laughs, digging into the insulated bag. He pulls out something small, makes a quick motion with his thumb, and then sets it on the one tiny free spot not already covered by food on the tray table.
A small, white, battery-operated candle flickers to life in the center of the table, encircled by a tiny bow made of glittery purple yarn.
I gasp dramatically as though I’m just about to unveil the murderer in a whodunnit where all the party guests are suspects, “You ARE trying to stealth date me.”
“A little bit,” he smiles, melting my heart, and starting to thaw some parts further south.
“The sparkly purple yarn is a nice touch.”
“Poppy’s idea. As was the candle.”
“It must be convenient to have a kid, so you can blame any of your big first date moves on her if they crash and burn.”
“Super convenient,” he agrees, unwrapping his fork, and placing his napkin on his very large lap. “Uh, are you saying I’m crashing and burning?” He ties the grinning lobster bib around his neck, snaps his fingers like lobster claws, and gives me a cheesy come-hither grin, mimicking the lobster’s pose on the front of the bib. ”How about now?”
“Nice, very suave,” I grin back, “I’ll let you know.” He’s fun, and it suddenly feels like it’s been a long, long time since I had any.
“Ah, I almost forgot. I have a present for you,” he smiles.
“What? That’s crazy. You brought me this amazing dinner AND a present? Maybe I should hang around the practice rink concussion zone more often.”
He responds with a grin and a little wink, “Maybe you should.”
He already sent me flowers. What could he possibly have brought me?”
He carefully pulls a piece of pink construction paper out of the side pocket of the insulated bag he transported our dinner in. It’s a picture of Logan, Poppy, and me holding hands in front of an ice rink. There are little glitter heart stickers over my head and Logan’s. And also I seem to be bleeding from the head in the picture.
“You’re such a talented artist,” I say. ”I really appreciate the realism.”
“Iama talented artist, but my preferred medium is pancakes. This is from Poppy.” He pulls back the lid on the lobster macaroni and cheese. “Ladies first.”
“So you’re like, a pancake Davinci.”
