Page 90 of A Pizza My Heart

“Shut up,” she mutters, her cheeks reddening more and more by the second because she knows I’m right.

She wants me. She wants mebad.

I lean in, ghosting my lips over her ear. She shudders at the contact and her breath hitches in her throat.

God, I want to kiss her so fucking much.

“Your moans have been haunting me since I dropped you off.”

“Foster!” she whispers harshly, voice raspy. She pushes me away, her eyes ablaze with desire. “We’re at work!”

“So?”

“So stop making me all…” Her voice shakes. “All…”

“Horny?”

“Yes!”

Her cheeks darken two shades at her admission.

I give her a wolfish grin.

“Ugh.” She tries to look disgusted, but she’s so far from that it’s not even funny. She clears her throat. “Anyway, five dates is the rule.”

“Therule oryourrule?”

“Mine. I mean, every girl is different. There isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, it’s just the scaleIuse for dating.”

“First”—I hold a finger up—“you said hard and fast.”

She groans. “How old are you?”

“Sixty-nine, obviously.” I grin. “Second, what number date are we on again? Surely we’re getting close to five.”

“Slow your roll, horndog. Date two will be tonight.”

“It will be?”

“Yep. We’re both off and don’t have to come in until after noon tomorrow. And since you suck so bad at choosing date venues, I’m taking charge and deciding where date two will take place.”

“To be fair,youtechnically picked the location for date one.”

“Oh, come on. Ithadto be at Slice. It just made sense.” She pushes away from the desk and stands, grabbing a stack of papers and stacking them together. “Tonight—you, me, date two. Pick me up at nine.”

“Nine? That is way past my bedtime.”

“You’re too young to have a bedtime.”

“I have a failed marriage under my belt, and that shit ages you. I’m practically in my mid-thirties now.”

“Ah, yes. The failed marriage you won’t tell me anything about—I almost forgot about that.” She twists her lips. “You know, you keep being all elusive about this and I’m going to have to assume you’re the one to blame.”

I wince at her accusatory tone. “It’s…complicated, Wren.”

“So you said, but that’sallyou’ve said.”

I can tell she’s frustrated I haven’t given her any details. I’m not trying to keep her in the dark; I’m just not sure I want to tell her how badly I suck.

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