Page 5 of Landing Her Eagle
Five minutes pass.
Logan: Daphne?
Five minutes more pass.
Logan: Daph? C’mon. I’m sorry. I was teasing. Please talk to me.
Daphne: I know. I’m used to you being a perv. I wanted to take a picture.
Logan: You took one? Show me!
Daphne: Ta-da! :clown picture:
Logan: Ack! Creepy clown pictures are not cool. You owe me an actual picture.
Daphne: Here you go. I showed you mine. Now show me yours.
4
LOGAN
I stareat Daphne’s picture. It’s a selfie showing her face and upper body. I can see the quilt her gran made her in the background, so she’s in her bedroom, sitting in that armchair she insisted I help her drag back to her apartment when we were in college. She was confident she could reupholster it and, after many trips to the fabric store and hours of forcing me to watch YouTube videos with her, she did it. She picked the dark green checked pattern I liked the most, saying the green reminded her of my eyes. She’s pulled her dark brown curls up in a clip atop her head, with a few escaping to caress the side of her neck. Long, dark lashes frame her sparkling brown eyes. Her lips. Man, her lips are full and tipped up in a sweet smile. Her lips are a bit sparkly.
Me: I like your lipstick.
Daphne: Thanks. My friend Andie recommended it. It feels weird to have something on my lips.
I imagine having my lips on her lips. Are they soft like they appear? Is that lipstick kiss-proof? How would it feel smeared across my mouth after kissing it off her? On other parts of me? I groan and start typing my reply.
Me: Very nice. Make sure you wear it this weekend for your selfies at the lighthouses.
She’s wearing a Hamilton University Rugby Club T-shirt. MY T-shirt. It’s ridiculous, but I’m jealous that the cotton is caressing the curves I long to touch.
Me: You’re in another one of my shirts! You have a closet full of clothes and you keep stealing mine. I’m going to end up traveling topless!
Daphne: And I’ll get thank-you notes from ladies and guys the world over. This shirt is from school! You haven’t worn it in like seven years!
Me: Because you’ve had it!
Daphne: Whatever. The fact of the matter is, it won’t fit you. You’ve gotten all… muscly since then.
Well, well, well. She’s noticed. About time.
Daphne: I’ve shown you me, show me you.
I snap the pic and text it to Daphne. It’s late, so I’m already in bed. I get comfy on the soft, white sheets while I wait for a response that doesn’t come. I wake the next morning with my phone resting on my face and disappointment in my heart.
5
DAPHNE
“Wowsers,”I whisper. I’m surprised my phone didn’t spontaneously combust from Logan’s picture. Damn, he’s fine. He was texting from bed, and his chest was bare.
“The man should never wear shirts. It would be a crime to cover something so glorious.” I steal his shirts as a public service, not because I miss him and can pretend he’s holding me while I sleep.
Soooo many muscles. Is it physically possible he has a twelve-pack of abs? His muscles have muscles. Shifters are typically more muscular and agile than regular humans, and wow, his shifter genes are glorious things. No regular human would get so ripped taking pictures. I’ve never seen him in eagle form, but I’m sure he’s gorgeous when he’s shifted too. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m justnormal. Why would someone so extraordinary want someone like me for anything other than friendship? Oh, that’s right—he doesn’t.
White sheets pool around his waist. He has a light dusting of hair on his pecs, and his brown happy trail disappears below the sheet. I try to scroll to see more, but the picture stops right below the sheet’s edge. Darn.
