Page 33 of Landing Her Eagle
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Okay, here goes. “When you said twelve inches, were you serious? I know shifters are more muscular and stronger, but is that true…everywhere?” I’m not sure it’s going to work if that’s the case. “It’s just a normal penis, right? Nothing weird?”
The car swerves slightly. I don’t think he meant I could askanything-anything. He pulls into the parking lot of an elementary school and rests his forehead on the steering wheel, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
He wipes tears from his eyes. If it wasn’t about forty miles to walk home, I swear I’d get out of this Jeep and start hoofing it.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just…that wasn’t a question I expected.” He takes a deep breath, turns in his seat, and takes my hand. “Daphne, it’s a normal penis. It’s not magically going to turn into something crazy like a duck’s corkscrew dick or an echidna’s four-headed cock when we make love.”
I reach for my phone.
“Oh, no! Don’t google either of those!” Logan covers my screen with his hand before I can call up Google. “Are you seriously worried about this?”
We’ve made out and felt each other up, but not a lot below the belt. I wasn’t about to have sex for the first time just to be abandoned a week later. Mother Nature helped me out for once by having my period start Tuesday morning, so my resolve didn’t get tested.
“Um…you face the possibility of having a twelve-inch thing shoved in you sometime and see how mellow you are about it.” I’m trying not to be some kind of cliché virgin scared of a penis, but come on…twelve inches?
“I was joking! No man wants to admit this, but I’m normal-sized.” He chuckles. “When the time comes, it will work. Trust me.”
Trust him. Because he has experience in this area while I don’t. I didn’t need that reminder right now.
“Daph…”
Now I have tears. I wipe them away and offer him a smile. We have this weekend together, and I’m not wasting it crying.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Want to try that hot dog place?”
“Sure,” he answers. I can tell he wants to press me on this and discuss it further, but one good thing about being best friends for so long is that he knows when not to push. I’m grateful for that because I want to enjoy the remaining time we have together, not waste it talking about stuff that doesn’t matter right now. He’s leaving Monday. When he comes home in December, if we’re together then, we can talk about it.
I end up with a basic cheese dog, but Logan got creative ordering the Buffalo dog with spicy-hot Buffalo sauce, onions, and bleu cheese.
We sit on a bench on the Promenade, Cape May’s concrete version of a boardwalk, and enjoy the view of the ocean. It’s cool with the breeze coming off the Atlantic, but the sun is nice, and it’s a good excuse to snuggle up against my gorgeous boyfriend. No matter what, he’s always warm and toasty. I don’t know if it’s him naturally, or if it’s because he’s a shifter, but there are nights in bed it’s too much, and I need to shove him away when he wants to snuggle and I don’t want to roast.
But at times like this, it’s quite handy. Since he finished his hot dog first, he puts his arm around my shoulder while I take the last couple of bites of my dog. He idly toys with the end of my ponytail, wrapping it around his finger and then releasing it. I feel his sigh…and then I smell it.
“Dude! If you’re going to be breathing on me after that hot dog, you need to chew gum or pop a breath mint.” I crumple up the wrapper from my hot dog and take a sip of my soda before rooting in my bag for the roll of Mentos I keep in there for situations like this.
“Here, take two. You need them.” I thumb two out of the roll directly into his mouth. I can feel him laughing as I pop one into my mouth too. My lunch choice was nowhere near as egregious as his, but fresh breath is always pleasant.
Logan glances at his phone to check the time. “We have a couple of hours before our room is ready. How do you want to spend them? We can walk around the shops. Take a trolley tour. Oh, see if they still set the Adirondack chairs up on the lawn, snag a few, and people-watch while enjoying the fresh air.” Logan checks to see if any of his ideas spark interest.
They’re all appealing, but I’m suddenly struck by something I want to do.
“How about we go play mini golf at Sunset Beach and walk the beach to see if we can find any Cape May diamonds?” I ask. “They have a gift shop too. I have fun poking around in there.”
He smirks, and my choice of phrase echoes back to me in a new light.
I groan. “That’s the only poking around happening today, buddy. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
He laughs as he stands from the bench and holds out his hand to accept the trash from our lunch. “My mind may be in the gutter, but you knew exactly where to find it, sunshine.”
I laugh because he’s not wrong.
“Mini golf. That sounds fun. I haven’t beaten you in mini golf in years.”
Scoffing, I rise from the bench. “Dream on, Morris. You have never beaten me at mini golf, and that is not changing today.”
