Lucky Me Lucky You | Clyde Logan x Reader

Chapter 6

You were awoken by a booming clap of thunder. The light coming from around the drapes in your bedroom was a leadened gray. The alarm clock on the nightstand said it was almost noon. You rolled onto your back and stared at the slow-moving ceiling fan. The house was silent as if in anticipation.

You bet the thunder had awoken Clyde, too. He'd probably be hungry. You were, and your stomach noisily agreed.

After finishing his sandwich last night, Clyde had kissed your cheek, thanking you again, and shuffled off to bed. It wasn't exactly disappointing, but you longed to really kiss him. A little peck here and a nuzzle there didn't a sexy time make. It was sweet, though, and you could use some of that—especially with him.

Despite his being in another room, you'd gotten out a silk slip to sleep in. You'd found it at the Goodwill in Madison. It'd still had the Woolworth tag on it. It was knee-length and the most delicate shade of blush-pink. It had embroidery by the neckline and spaghetti straps. It was one of prettiest things you owned.

You got up, made the bed, and pulled on a lightweight, ankle-length robe. While you could parade around in just your slip, and nothing else, it seemed tactless. If you were going to get in Clyde Logan's pants, you'd do it mindfully with more class than you probably had. That didn't mean you wouldn't adjust your slip to reveal some cleavage, of course.

The rain started, hard and heavy, just as you finished up in the bathroom. You stuck your head out the front door to find it less muggy and more cool. You left the door open, leaving the screen door to keep out insects. You opened the back door in the kitchen, too. The linoleum was refreshingly chilled under your feet.

With a thorough forage of the fridge, you decided breakfast would be bacon, eggs, and strawberry Eggos. You got the oven going for the bacon, the coffeemaker brewing, and set everything up to make it easy for yourself. After you placed the second batch of uncooked bacon in the oven and set the timer, you ventured to the closed door of the second bedroom.

You listened at the door for a second before softly knocking. Clyde didn't answer, but breakfast would be ready in less than twenty minutes. You eased the door open to find him dead asleep. He was star-fished diagonally across the mattress with one foot and arm hanging over the sides. You realized with seeing him that the bed was much too short for him.

You approached him and admired the way his wavy hair fanned across the pillow. You put a knee on the mattress and leaned over to touch his arm.

"Clyde?" You rubbed at his bare forearm as thunder rumbled overhead. "Clyde, honey, I'm makin' breakfast."

He stirred and then sniffed the air. His eyes opened and when he looked up at you, he dopily grinned. "Hey, angel." His voice was rough with sleep.

You smiled back as you felt your chest swell with affection. "Hey, I'm makin' breakfast."

"I can smell." He pulled his limbs under the comforter. "'s good."

"How do you like your eggs?"

He sleepily hummed and rubbed at an eye. "Over easy, if that's not too much trouble."

"It isn't."

You backed off and almost kicked his duffle. On top was his prosthetic, which was plugged into the wall outlet nearby. Before you left, you told him he had about fifteen minutes. He grunted in reply and rolled onto his side to face the door.

You heard him dodder to the bathroom a few minutes later. You'd just cracked three eggs into the heated skillet when he came up behind you. You told him there was coffee ready, with sugar and creamer by the maker.