Hit the Spot Page 69

Didn’t matter, though. That didn’t stop Tori from saying it. Didn’t stop me from feeling it either.

It did, however, still prove to be not enough of a crowd for her, and Tori made that known when she dug her phone out of her back pocket and sent out a mass group text after making that announcement.

“What’d you say?” I asked her after she tucked her phone back into her pocket.

“Same thing I just said. That you’re mine and I’m yours and I’m claiming you. And for them to spread the word.” She smiled big.

“Who’d you send it to?”

“Everyone on my contact list.”

My brows lifted.

Tori got a text from Sunshine exactly one minute later. I didn’t know what it said but figured it was something good since Tori was smiling reading it and replying. Shortly after that, I got a text from Dash.

She’s crying her eyes out and won’t go back to sleep. What the fuck?

 

 

Then he sent me another one.

Heard the news. Happy for you.

 

 

Aside from those two getting on us, the phones had been quiet.

“You’re incredible,” I whispered against her cheek.

With her legs thrown over one of mine, Tori leaned into me, giggling and sucking pancake syrup off the side of her thumb.

We were sitting in a booth with enough food in front of us to feed a small army.

Turned out, claiming me worked up one hell of an appetite. After skimming the menu, Tori ended up ordering more food than I did.

“I’m so awake now,” she murmured, licking her lips, smacking them, and setting her fork down on her plate. “Can this be our thing?” she asked.

“What?”

“Breakfasts at midnight. Here. Always here.” She turned to look at me, reaching out and taking hold of my face. “I don’t ever wanna sleep again,” she whispered, grinning through her sugar high.

I smiled and spread my hand across her stomach. “Told you the food was some good shit.”

“It’s not the food.”

I stopped smiling.

Tori stared at me for a breath, then she pinched her eyes shut, swallowed, shifted closer while keeping hold of my face, and when she was practically in my lap, opened her eyes and her mouth to give me something else, something important, I could tell, but her words were halted when our waitress walked over.

“How’r we doin’?” she asked kindly.

Tori bowed her head and grumbled under her breath. Her hands fell away.

Laughing, I slid my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. I kissed the side of her head, then looked up at our waitress, answering, “We’re good.”

“Can I get ya’ll anything else before the kitchen closes? Our cook’s about to head out.”

Gasping, Tori’s head shot up. Her eyes were panicked as she stared into my face.

“Babe, I think we’re good. You still got another stack of pancakes,” I told her, thinking she was freaking out about the kitchen closing.

My woman could eat. I fucking loved that.

“No, um …” She looked behind her, saying, “We’re good. Thank you.” Then when the waitress moved away, Tori turned her head around to look at me again. “I need to tell you something,” she said, gripping on to my faded black Hurley tee.

I looked down at her holding-tight hands and then back into her face. “This serious?” I asked, brows lifting.

“It is.”

“You scared to tell me?”

She nodded, swallowing before admitting softly, “I’m just worried it’ll mess things up. And God, I don’t want that. I don’t want to go backwards.”

I felt my mouth twitch. “Don’t gotta worry about that,” I promised.

She shook her head, letting her eyes fall away. “That’s sweet, but you don’t know what I’ve done.”

What she’s done?

Jesus.

Now I was starting to get worried.

“Babe, just tell me. It ain’t gonna mess shit up.”

Fuck it. Whatever it was, I was so fucking deep at this point, she could plot to have my ass killed and I’d give her a pass.

Tori heard me promise this, looked at me, nodded, then closed her eyes again, so tight this time it made little wrinkles pop out next to them. “Up until very recently, I’ve been having Stitch do stuff to your food,” she admitted.

Immediately, I started grinning. Not smiling. Fucking grinning. And not knowing when Tori would open her eyes again, I held that grin for a breath and then wiped it clean from my face.

“I was trying to get you to stop coming to Whitecaps,” she continued, eyes still pinching shut. “And I thought maybe if you got sick from the food, you’d stop coming, but then you weren’t getting sick and so I just kept doing it out of spite and ’cause I liked you but I didn’t want to like you. Same with messing up your order all the time. It was stupid and childish and I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” She peeked one eye open, then the other. “I’m really sorry, Jamie,” she repeated, shifting closer again. “I don’t think he was doing anything besides dropping it on the floor for five seconds. Honest. I think that was it. I had Syd requesting it, too, but then she started liking you and wanting us to be together, and I think she stopped requesting it once that happened. But every time I waited on you, I would do it.” She brought her hands up to my shoulders, my neck. She leaned her face an inch away from mine. “I know I’ve probably messed this up,” she continued, voice trembling. “You have every right to be mad and hate me and—”

Not being able to hold it in any longer, I dropped my head back and roared with laughter.

“Um, Jamie?” Tori’s hands put pressure on my chest.

“Nine months,” I choked out, eyes watering so bad I had to wipe underneath one. “Nine fuckin’ months I’ve been eatin’ food that’s been dropped on that dirty-ass floor and you’ve been arrangin’ that? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

Tori’s brows drew together. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not fucking with you. I did that. I arranged it. It was called the Loser Special. That was my idea, too.”

I burst out laughing again, propping my elbow on the table and sticking my face in my hand.

The Loser Special?

This was fucking fantastic.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, wiping underneath my eyes again. “Even had a name for it. Goddamn, babe.”

“I don’t understand how you’re reacting right now,” Tori said, her voice soft and worry-filled.

Hearing her and the stress in her tone, I tilted my head, lifted it, and looked into her face. She wasn’t crying, but she didn’t look far from it.

“Legs,” I murmured through a laugh, lowering my hand to the table. “What the fuck?”

“You’re laughing,” she whispered. “You’re laughing and you should hate me.”

“Why the fuck should I hate you?”

“’Cause I was awful. I’ve been awful. I’ve done awful things.”

“Could’ve found out about that months ago. And you could’ve kept doin’ it. Straight up? Wouldn’t have mattered. I still would’ve been showin’ up and lickin’ my fuckin’ plate clean.” I flashed her a smile, laughing still. “Jesus,” I mumbled. “You think I’m gonna hate you after hearin’ that? Do you know what you just gave me?”

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