Page 69 of Screwed
She walked in but frowned. “Why are you starving?”
“Just got home. Haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Well, cookie shots can’t be your dinner.”
“It can be my appetizer. Lemme at ’em, darlin’.”
She held the box out of his reach, which made him laugh. “You have to eat a meal first.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I had a salad at home.”
“A salad.” He shook his head. “You need more than that. I have leftover pizza.”
“Sounds…delicious.”
He grinned, opening his fridge door. He withdrew the box of Giuseppe’s pizza. “You want a piece or not?”
“Eh, sure.” She leaned against the counter that separated his small kitchen from the dining area. His kitchen that was about a tenth the size of hers. “What kind is it?”
“Their special. Ham, pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, and olives.”
“Ugh. I hate olives.”
“Right. We’ll pick the olives off your piece.” He remembered that from a time in college they’d all been out for pizza, probably not long after she and Beau had started dating.
He sighed as he slid a pan with the pizza into the oven.
“You need to turn it on,” Callie said.
“I know that, darlin’.” He punched the buttons to turn on the oven and set the temperature at 450.
“You’re supposed to turn it on and let it warm up to temperature before you put the food in.”
“What difference does it make? The food’s still going to get warm. It’ll take longer if I wait for the oven to get hot.”
“Also, at that temperature it’s likely to burn. You should turn it down.”
“Callie.” He walked to the counter, placed his hands flat on the granite, and leaned over so they were nose to nose. “Shut up.”
Their eyes met, and awareness snapped between them. Her lips twitched. “Just trying to help.”
He breathed in her sweet vanilla and brown sugar scent, leaned in a little closer, and kissed her, catching her bottom lip in his teeth. She sucked in a breath through her nose, and the heat around them intensified. “I think you were just trying to annoy me, darlin’.” He licked over that plump lip, then drew back. “Something to drink? I was about to have a beer.”
“Um. Sure. I’ll have a beer.”
He pulled another bottle from the fridge, popped the top, and poured it into a glass for her. He slid it across the counter.
Still looking a bit dazed from the kiss, she picked up the glass and took a gulp. And another.
“I need to change.” He tugged at his tie to loosen it. “Be right back.”
“Sure.”
He shed his suit jacket as he jogged up to his bedroom and then into the walk-in closet. He hung it up, tossed his shirt into the bag he used to take his shirts to the cleaners every week, and hung the suit pants up as well. He pulled open a drawer to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Moments later he was walking barefoot into the kitchen as Callie was climbing onto a stool at the counter.
He glanced at the oven and saw the temperature was now 375. He shook his head. “You had to do it, didn’t you?”
