“Jose’s Cocina,” Ororo read the snow-covered sign. “It sounds fine to me.”
Logan stuffed his keys in his coat pocket and sauntered over to join his teammates as they piled out of their shiny black rental SUV.
“Think it’s authentic?” Jean asked.
He snorted. “La cocina de Jose.”
“Gesundheit,” Scott quipped.
Logan would’ve whapped the idiot in the back of the head if he didn’t fear knocking his glasses off. “That’s how you would say ‘Jose’s kitchen’ in Spanish, Cyke. Not Jose’s cocina. La cocina de Jose.”
“Huh. So . . .”
“So it’s probably not authentic, but who the fuck cares. Let’s eat.” And with that, he made his way inside.
Logan heard only two people moving around in the kitchen, and the restaurant itself was fairly quiet. An old man sat in one corner, eating only chips and salsa while he watched college football. A group of college-age boys were watching the game too, their dinners long finished as they sipped on beers and margaritas. A young couple, an old couple, and three bikers rounded out the mix-and-match crowd.
Well, at least we won’t be the only table full of weirdos, he thought sardonically.
A young woman emerged from the back, a large tray of food balanced on one hand and a pitcher of tea in the other. She caught sight of the four X-Men and pursed her lips in a little ‘O’ before rushing off to fill the tea and set down the plates for her patrons.
“Hi, how y’all doin’ tonight?” she asked somewhat breathlessly, sliding the tray under her arm and making her way over to them.
“Four,” Jean replied.
“Oh. Um, of course.” She shifted the pitcher to her other hand and grabbed up four menus. “Follow me. Um, sorry if y’all were waitin’ long. Y’all from outta town?”
“Yes,” Scott offered, “New York.”
“Oh, wow,” she said with genuine awe as she arranged the menus and silverware on their table. Logan noticed that little wisps of mahogany hair were sneaking out of her ponytail, and her cheap white blouse had come untucked at some point. She looked a bit careworn, but she smelled really good.
Really good. Whoa. He breathed her in again, surprised by his visceral response. He’d felt it before, that instant animal attraction, but never so intensely.
Something in him made him lean closer, drawing in more of that scent. Attractive, was the only way he could describe it. And now that he took the time to notice, she had nice features too. Real pretty eyes if you ignored the dark circles underneath. And that sweet southern drawl, that was nice. Unexpected, but nice.
Jean shot him a knowing—and perhaps vaguely disgusted—look, and he realized abruptly that everyone else had taken their seats while he was still standing there, sniffing the waitress. He cleared his throat and slid in next to Ororo.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000