Page 54 of A Pizza My Heart

I hop off the counter, forcing him to take a step back, something that’s hard to do in this already small bathroom. “I’m not paying a penny. Your dog caused this.”

“Are you going to hold this against him forever?”

“If I scar, yes.”

He points to the hallway where Mike is lying down, sleeping soundly. “But look how cute he is.”

As if on cue, Mike wakes, lifting his head, his tongue flopping out the side of his mouth.

“Cute, schmute.” I feel the grin tug at my lips though, blowing my annoyed façade.

Glancing back to Foster, I realize for the first time just how close we’re standing. His chest is practically brushing mine with every harsh breath he takes.

Or is that every harsh breathItake?

I can’t tell at this point.

“Cute, huh?”

Yes, you are.

The thought is automatic, giving me whiplash because…what in the world is happening here?

I stare at him, trying to figure out what’s going through his mindandmy mind. It’s barely past sunrise and I’m now up to three awkward and sexually charged moments.

Three.

With Foster.

How is this possible?

“Do you really have to think that hard about it?”

His words bring me back to the present.

Right. The dog. We’re talking about Mike,nothim.

I shrug, trying to play it off like that’s exactly what I was doing. “I mean, he’s okay.”

He doesn’t respond, and I don’t have anything else to say.

Instead, we stand here awkwardly, which is something we’ve never done before. It’s always been easy with us, effortless, but today it feels like we’re tiptoeing around one another.

Foster brings his hand to the back of his neck—something he’s always done when he’s in an unfamiliar situation—and clears his throat. “Right. I’m, uh… I’ll let ya shower now.” He points toward the living area. “I’ll just go make myself at home on your couch out there, test it out, see if it’s as comfy as it looked.”

“It is,” I assure him as he makes his way out of the room. “I’ll be out in a jiffy!”

“Great, now I want peanut butter. I’m raiding your cabinets.”

I roll my eyes and shove him out the door, locking it behind him, not because I don’t trust Foster, but because my worst fear in life is dying naked and what if someone breaks into my house and tries to murder me while I’m showering? I’ve seen horror movies—the naked chick in the showeralwaysdies.

I strip bare, cinch my shower cap down, and dive into the shower before the water’s even warmed up, desperate to wash all the sand off. Thank gosh I wore a hat so I can get away with not washing my hair, especially since I don’t have time to now. Ilovethe water, but I hate the sand. It makes me feel so gross and itchy.

As the water tumbles over me, I let my mind wander, relaxing for just a moment because I know today’s going to be a dreadfully long day with three hair appointments this morning and yet another shift at Slice this evening.

Crap. Make thatfourhair appointments today—I still have to cut Foster’s hair.

Speaking of Foster…

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