He shrugged. “I saw you eyeing it.”
With a quick twist, I removed the sticky white lid. “Can’t have fries without it.”
Logan seemed amused as I pounded the bottom of the ketchup bottle, failing miserably to make a pile in the middle of my fries. Nothing was coming out.
“Here, let me show you.” Instantly, his hand was across the table and I willingly relinquished the bottle to him. When he took it, he held the glass at the neck and tipped it in such a way that the thick red liquid poured out easily.
“How?” I harrumphed.
His hazel eyes lifted seductively. “The secret is knowing where the sweet spot is.”
My stomach did a full belly flop.
Oh. My. God.
Feeling heated, I knew a slight blush was coloring my cheeks. I sucked in a breath and willed all these strange feelings to go away. When I felt at ease again, I finally met his eyes. “Good to know.” I tried to act as if I was unaffected by his sexual innuendoes, but I knew I was failing miserably.
“More?”
My eyes widened.
“Ketchup.” He grinned.
Yeah, he knew what he did to me. I lifted the bun on my burger. “Of course,” I said as cavalierly as I could.
With that insanely hot smirk on his face, he poured some on top of the cheese before he pulled back.
I busied myself by cutting my burger in half and settling my napkin on my lap, but I couldn’t escape my turn for long. I was certain of that. With each passing moment, I could feel his focus on me. I took my first bite. “Mmmm,” I moaned out loud, unintentionally.
Logan sucked in a breath.
I couldn’t look at him.
“You like it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered once I’d swallowed.
Nervous flutters, more like tremors, had taken up permanent residence in my belly. And when he reached across the table and dragged his finger slowly up my chin to my lips, I nearly jumped. My entire body felt alive and I swear I could feel my skin sear at his touch. He pulled his finger away, and I saw it had ketchup on it. I’d never even felt it dripping from my mouth. I licked my lips where his finger had just been. Again, he gave me a knowing smile, and then when he knew I was watching, he inserted his finger in his mouth and sucked it clean.
My pulse raced at the sight.
I felt like a horny teenager, and I’d never been a horny teenager.
My heart pounded in my chest and I decided talking was going to be way easier than whatever this was. “I grew up in the military. My father was a brigadier general.”
I must have surprised him, because he paused mid-bite. “You’re a military brat?”
My huff of laughter was dry. “Anything but.”
That familiar smirk was back and I was beginning to think he only used it when he didn’t believe me. But he didn’t ask me anything else about that. Instead he asked, “Where was your father stationed?”
I dipped a fry in my ketchup. “Everywhere. My sister and I were born in California. That was my father’s home base, but he preferred international posts, and always volunteered to step in when a temporary base commander was needed. I grew up a little bit everywhere—in Germany, France, England, Italy, and Singapore. There were a few other countries, but we weren’t there long enough to say we lived there.”
Compassion filled his eyes. “Fuck. You moved around a lot. It must have been hard for you with the constant changing of schools and always having to make new friends. I know I used to hate just being shuffled back and forth between New York and Boston.”
I gave him a practiced shrug. “My sister hated it. I saw what that did to her. She was older than me and I didn’t want to be like her. But after a while, it was hard not to hate it. Every base looked like the last, but it wasn’t. I never had any friends. Then, when I was a teen, I found something that I loved about the constant moving.”
Curiosity gleamed in his eyes. “Oh yeah, what?”
I took a bite of one of my fries. “Instead of worrying about trying to make friends that I knew I’d have to leave, I threw myself into the countries and studied them. Their traditions. Common phrases. What each country valued. What they produced. I immersed myself in their cultures.”
He raised a brow. “Wow, I’m impressed.”
Already more than full, I pushed my basket away. “Don’t be. It wasn’t a life I’d wish on any child. I just tried to make the best of it.”
“Your mother and father didn’t know how much you and your sister disliked it?”
I gave him another dry laugh. “I’m not sure. I doubt it would have mattered if they did. My father only cared about himself and my mother was too concerned with making sure the General was happy.”
This was more than I’d spoken about my family in years, and to be fair, my mother wanted to keep my father happy to maintain a sense of calm in our household. She was more of a victim than anything else. I felt guilty not explaining that. But that would only lead to places I didn’t want to go.