Page 66 of Must Be Love - Irresistible Bachelors

I close both boxes and stack one on top of the other.

“What are you doing?” Amber asks.

“Uh. Putting the pizza in the fridge? Did you want another slice?”

She shakes her head. “No, but why are you taking both boxes? There are three slices in each.”

“I don’t know. There’s plenty of room in the fridge. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just dumb to put two boxes in the fridge when you really only need one.”

“I don’t see the big deal.”

Amber throws up her hands in frustration. “Of course you don’t! You’re so dense. Why would you put two boxes in the fridge when you could consolidate?”

I throw the pizza boxes back on the table and open the lids. I toss the meat slices in with the cheese and push one box away.

“There! Are you happy? Only one box will go into the fridge.”

“Was that hard? No, it wasn’t.”

“It would have been just as easy to put the two boxes in the fridge. It’s practically empty! Why do you care so much about stupid pizza boxes?!?”

Amber freezes, biting her lip. Shit. I didn’t mean to yell at her like that, but this argument is ridiculous. She’s obviously not mad about the pizza boxes. There’s been something else on her mind since her friends arrived.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re right. It would be silly to leave the pizza in separate boxes with so few slices left.”

Amber blows out a breath. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad about it. It’s just pizza. Who cares how you stock your fridge? You’re right; it doesn’t matter.”

“It mattered to you.”

She laughs. “It shouldn’t have. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. She’s tense at first but slowly melts against my chest, wrapping her arms around me.

I squeeze her tightly then pull away, heading for the kitchen with the single pizza box. I stow it in the fridge and press the button on my single-serve coffee maker. As quickly as I can, I prepare two cups, adding cream and sugar to Amber’s the way I know she likes it.

When I return to the dining room, she’s sitting with her arms crossed on the table, her head leaning against her elbow.

“Hi,” she says when I walk in.

I take the seat next to her and slide the mug of coffee toward her.

“Hi.”

“I’m really sorry.”

I put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Amber shakes her head. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.”

She sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. “I don’t know. I had that deadline at work I told you about, which was really stressful. We got it all done, but we were just under the wire. I don’t mind pressure. It just sucks sometimes.”

“I get that. At least it’s behind you. You have a bit of breathing room before your next big deadline, right?”

Amber nods. “Yeah, we’ve got until January now. Fires will pop up, and we’re constantly needing new copy for ads online, but that stuff is easy. It’s the big campaigns that suck sometimes.”

“Maybe you need a vacation.”

“Yeah, maybe. I can’t really afford it right now, though. I have a convention coming up in January that I’m excited about. It’s only four days, but it’s in Florida, and it’ll be nice to get away from my desk for a while.”

“My mom lives in Florida,” I mention.

“Yeah? Maybe you can come on the trip with me and visit her.”

I grin. “Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

I kiss her cheek. “I think that would be lovely. Now, more about your day. Is it just work bothering you?”

“No, I guess. I mean, this evening was stressful. It was crazy having you meet my friends. I was nervous you wouldn’t like them, or they wouldn’t like you.”

“I get that. Honestly, I was nervous, too.”

Amber smiles. “I could tell. You did well, though. They really did like you.”

There seems to be something more here that Amber isn’t telling me. But I don’t want to push her. She has opened up a lot already, and things seem to be less weird between us right now. If I ask too many questions, she might shut down again.

We stay here, cuddled together at the dining room table, until the coffee is gone. I stroke Amber’s hair, but we don’t talk. The silence is comfortable.

It’s well after midnight when I glance at the clock on the wall. The trains in New York run all night, so Amber won’t have any problem getting home, but I don’t want her to leave. It feels like we’ve made progress. I don’t want to lose that if we go our separate ways now.

But the timing doesn’t feel right for a sleepover. This truce we’ve called is precarious. Something bubbles between us, and I have no idea what it is.

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