Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 9

I wake Thursday morning to the smell of hotcakes and sausage and brewing coffee, so I dress quickly and go out to the kitchen to see Jake pouring orange juice out of McDonald's cups into his drinking glasses. "Hey there."

He jumps and turns around. "Damn. You're up."

"Well, good morning to you too."

We smile at each other and he says, "Sorry, I just wanted to have this done before you came out. I was hoping it would help cheer you up a bit."

I put my hand over my heart, so touched I can barely say, "You're so sweet."

He comes over and gives me a hug, tighter and closer than our other hugs have been, and I cling to him tighter too.

"Just want you to be happy," he says gruffly against my hair.

"I am," I mumble into his chest, and right at the moment it's not a lie.

We hold each other a little longer then he says, "Better eat before the food gets even colder," and lets me go.

He's brought me two packages of butter and three of syrup, exactly how many I like on my hotcakes, and he even splurged and bought me a hash brown too though my meal didn't come with one.

"Didn't want you stealing mine," he says when I point this out.

"No, I guess not. Hey, are you going to pour the coffee?"

He gets up to do so and I, naturally, steal his hash brown and hold it under the table while  calmly eating my own with my other hand.

When he sits down, he takes one look at me and says, "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Yeah, right." He scans his plate. "Hey there, missy. Where's my hash brown?"

"You ate it already," I say innocently.

He comes around to my side of the table and looms threateningly over me. "Give it back now, or else."

I look up at him, unable to hold back a grin. "Or else what?"

Our eyes meet and lock, and I forget all about the game. My heart picks up speed and I can't look away from him.

He doesn't look away either. He slides one hand around the back of my neck, under my hair, making me shiver, then leans in and kisses me.

His mouth is sure on mine and heat floods me. I had no idea kissing could feel this good. It doesn't last nearly as long as I'd like, though; he eases back and says softly, "Eat your breakfast. Then we'll talk."

I can't imagine talking, not with my brain scrambled by the feelings he's given me, but I nod and silently offer him back his hash brown.

He smiles. "I'd have let you keep it." But he takes it anyhow.

We eat, which turns out to be tough work since my stomach is doing a nervous boogie.  He wants to talk. To tell me he shouldn't have kissed me? To say he's kicking me out?

Oh, God. Did the cops call while I was asleep?

I try to focus on eating but eventually I have to ask that one.

He shakes his head. "I promise I'll tell you right away when they do."

So that's not a concern. But everything else still is. I knew I liked him but I didn't realize I liked him. But I do. Am I about to lose him without even getting another kiss?

When I've finished my sausage and hash brown and most of my hotcakes, he says, "Are you done?"

I nod. I can't wait any longer.