Page 43 of My Hotshot

“You know,” he said, “I don’t think I ever stopped being mad at myself for leaving you.”

I blinked at him, startled. “Duane…”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then. Thought I needed to get out of town, find something else. I didn’t know that I’d already had it.”

A lump formed in my throat. “It’s okay. We were kids. We didn’t know anything.”

He leaned forward, eyes steady. “Still. I should’ve fought harder for you.”

The sound of a car pulling up out front broke the moment.

We both looked toward the front door.

“That’ll be the pizza,” he said, standing up and finishing the last of his beer.

I gave a small smile and moved to grab my wallet. “My treat.”

“Nope.” He shot me a look. “You invited me to watch tow truck drivers. Least I can do is cover the food. I paid for it online.”

I shook my head but let him have that one.

Duane stepped back into the house, pizza box in hand, and his grin smug like he knew damn well what kind of magic he was carrying in that cardboard square.

“You want to watch TV while we eat, or eat at the island?” he asked, shutting the door behind him with his boot.

“Um…” I glanced toward the living room. “We can eat in front of the TV.”

He nodded, and I headed for the kitchen to grab a couple of plates while he made his way to the couch. By the time I joined him, he had set the pizza down on the coffee table and flipped the lid open.

“Ohwow,” I gasped, as the smell hit me like a brick wall of garlic, cheese, and perfection. “That smells amazing. Lottie and I are definitely ordering from here from now on.”

“Told you,” he said, reaching for a slice and laying it onto a plate. He handed it to me with a little smirk. “You won’t be disappointed, babe.”

I took the plate, still mesmerized by the aroma, and sat beside him on the couch. I brought the slice to my mouth and took a bite, and I actually moaned. “Oh mygod,” I said through a mouthful. “This is incredible.”

Duane chuckled and grabbed a slice for himself. “I wasn’t lying, babe.”

I got up to grab our drinks from the kitchen and returned with another beer for him and my water. I handed him his bottle as I sat back down.

“Fire up the tow truck drivers,” I told him.

He grinned and grabbed the remote, flicking through the options until he landed onHighway Through Hell. He hit playon the next episode, and the show jumped right back into chaos: wrecks, snowstorms, and the heroic rescue of a jackknifed semi.

“There are a lot of episodes,” I said. “We’re going to be watching this for a while.”

If you want to keep watching them with me, I almost said, but kept it to myself. My stomach was full of butterflies—and soon, pizza.

We ate while watching the show and sat side by side like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t take long before slice after slice disappeared, and we demolished the entire pizza without either of us realizing just how much we’d eaten.

I leaned back and rubbed my stomach with a laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I ate that much pizza. Lately, Lottie’s been a bottomless pit, eating me out of house and home.”

Duane laughed and brushed a crumb from his shirt. “Rocky’s been the same way. Olive keeps hollering at him to get out of the kitchen.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m hoping Rocky is a kid and not one of your friends.”

He nodded. “Rocky’s Olive’s son. She’s Cue Ball’s ol’ lady.”

I blinked slowly. “My brain is struggling to comprehend all of those names at once.”

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