Strung Out by Kaitlin Maitland

with his Porsche parked in the tiny employee lot out back.
    Erik looked around at the sparse Sunday morning traffic around the square. It was the first real cold snap of the season, and people had obviously decided to stay in bed. The damp, frosty air promised another of Boston’s frigid winters lay just around the corner.
    He’d headed around the hood of the car to open Talia’s door when she took care of that chore herself. “I was going to be a gentleman.”
    “I’m not the patient type.”
    Erik offered her his arm. “Not the damsel-in-distress type, either.”
    “You got that right.” She looked up at the brick building. “All the way to Davis Square for breakfast?”
    “This is my favorite place to eat on a Sunday morning.”
    Her eyebrows drew together. “It looks deserted. Aren’t we a bit early for brunch?”
    He pulled open the door and stepped into the softly lit restaurant. “I pulled a few strings. They don’t really open up until ten thirty. And there’s no way I can wait that long for food.”
    “Poor Erik; did I wear you out?”
    Her honest ribbing was refreshing. No games, no subterfuge. “I have to keep my strength up for round two.”
    “More like round I lost track. Who’s counting anyway?”
    “Mr. Erik! Welcome! Your usual table is ready for you.”
    “Thanks, Damon. I hope we didn’t put you out.”
    “Not at all. Better now than later on with the crush of brunchers who’d rather kill you than wait a few extra minutes for their food.”
    Erik followed Damon to his preferred spot in a shadowy alcove of the restaurant. The soft lighting and well-spaced tables were ideal for conversation and privacy. That and the selection of unique and tasty food was why Erik came here. Of course, he usually arrived with either a business associate or Desiree in tow. This was his first experience with a morning-after-breakfast, but he knew he could count on Damon not to mention anything.
    Talia took the chair Damon offered and settled in. “So, is this where you bring all your one-night stands?”
    He looked across the table at the woman who had spent no more than ten minutes brushing her hair into a ponytail, washing her face, and pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. How could one woman be so different from all the others? “I think the definition of one-night stand sort of cancels out the possibility of breakfast. Wouldn’t that fall under weekend fling?”
    She appeared to think it over. “I like that one. It sounds more adventurous. Although this is Sunday. So should we really be wasting time on breakfast?”
    “Do you have something you’d rather do?” The scorching look in her blue eyes was enough to harden his cock on the spot. Erik began to wish his favorite table was a booth along the wall.
    Her expression shifted, and she dropped her eyes. “I’m not usually like this. Although I’m sure you hear that from everyone.”
    “No, I don’t.”
    Damon and another white shirt-clad server appeared at that moment. Their arms were loaded down with plates. The aroma of pancakes, fresh home fries, eggs, sausage, and his favorite grilled pound cake slathered in blackberries and cinnamon syrup made Erik’s stomach rumble appreciatively.
    When the table was crowded with loaded plates of food, Damon deposited a carafe of orange juice and quietly left them to eat. Thinking mostly of his empty stomach, Erik began to load his plate with his favorites.
    “Most people order their food.”
    Something in the tone of her voice made him momentarily forget he was starving. “I always order the same thing.”
    She looked at the steaming plates on the starched white tablecloth. “You always order this much?”
    He wondered where this was going. “I like a little bit of everything.”
    She carefully selected a pancake, some home fries, and a portion of scrambled eggs to fill her plate. “That explains a lot.”
    Now completely distracted from the earlier goal of filling his belly, Erik