By Penelope Ward
The next morning, I woke up happier than I’d been in a long time.
The prospect of seeing Tate again filled me with anticipation. It was a wonder I’d gotten any sleep.
His words from last night still replayed in my head over and over.
“A responsible person wouldn’t be struggling with whether to protect you or eat you.”
God, I hoped he ultimately chose the latter.
We hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers, so I was pleased to see a message come through the dating app from him.
Tate: I’m heading down to breakfast in a few. Care to join me?
Blair: Only if you order me four different kinds of beverages to choose from. BTW, it’s never too early for an espresso martini.
Tate: You’re about two years too early.
I laughed as I typed.
Blair: Very funny.
Tate: See you in a few?
Blair: Maybe…
Tate: Brat.
Blair: You like that about me.
Tate: You’re not wrong.
My mouth hurt from smiling.
When I got downstairs, I saw Tate before he saw me. He sat at a table with a huge pile of food spread before him. How did this man look even more hot today? He wore his baseball hat backward, which was absolutely my weakness. The way pieces of his hair poked out the sides? Scrumptious. Every look he’d rocked was sexier than the last.
I walked over to where he was sitting. “Hey, you.”
He gave me a once-over, and his eyes filled with something that seemed a hell of a lot like desire as he appraised the floral sundress I wore, the top of which was held up by two skimpy strings. My current look wasn’t as dramatic as last night’s, though. Today I had gone for fresh-faced and sassy.
“Well, hello.” He smiled. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby…”
“No comment.”
“You’d better not.” I took the seat across from him. “How did you sleep?”
“Best sleep I’ve had in a while, actually.”
“Must have been the company you kept the night before.”
“I did have an amazing time with you last night.” Tate smiled.
He seemed genuine, and I felt myself blush. “Likewise.” I gestured to the food. “Hungry much?”
There were eggs, bacon, a huge stack of pancakes, home fries, and fruit.
“All of this is for both of us. Have you seen that buffet line? I waited for like twenty minutes. Didn’t want you to have to do the same.”
“Well, I guess I win for being fashionably late. Thank you.” I grinned. “Between the variety of drinks the first time we met and this private buffet, I’m starting to think this is your thing—hoarding food.”
He gestured to the plates. “Eat up.”
How I wish I could.
For some reason, I wasn’t all that hungry—at least for food. But it was amusing to watch this big, strong man devour his breakfast.
“What are your plans today?” I asked as he munched.
“Depends on whether a certain girl wants to hang out with me.”
“I wasn’t gonna be presumptuous. You’re the one who’s been resistant.”
“Only to certain things and for your own good,” he clarified. “I’m not resistant to your company in the least. I quite like it.”
“So what’s another safe activity we can do so you don’t have to feel like a creeper?”
Tate stopped chewing for a moment. “I was thinking maybe we could go kayaking, if you’re up for it.”
My mouth curved into a smile. “I would love that, actually.”
In truth, I could take or leave kayaking. But any activity where I’d be in close proximity to Tate today was fine by me.
“Cool. I already booked it.”
“Now you’re the one being presumptuous.”
“Maybe, yeah.” He winked before stuffing a big piece of pancake into his mouth.
Never thought I could be jealous of a pancake, but here we were.
I reached my fork across the table and began eating off his plate. As I leaned forward, I accidentally rested my foot on top of his at one point. To my surprise, he didn’t move it away. The contact sent a rush of desire through me.
I popped a piece of pineapple into my mouth. “Do anything interesting when you got back to your room last night?”
“Not particularly.” He chewed.
“After what you said about contemplating eating me, I think you might be lying.”
He stopped mid-bite and shook his head. “Even if I did do what you’re implying, I wouldn’t admit it.”
“I’m pretty sure you just did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your face is red. You’re fidgeting. The signs are all there.”
I strategically selected a banana, holding it firmly in my hand as I slowly peeled it and took a big bite. Tate’s eyes remained fixed on me the entire time. “It was the only way I could sleep,” I added.
He nearly choked on his coffee.
“What you said riled me up,” I told him.
“Some things can remain private.” He glared. “You know?”
“So, you don’t want to know about my soothing Epsom salt foot soak?”
Tate reached across the table, grabbed my banana, and took a frustrated bite.
Tattered Stars
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Fourth Wing
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Echoing Books 