“Come inside for a slice,” Ryan says easily. “It’s just pizza, I promise.”

“No, I…can’t. I have other deliveries.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“You’re going to deliver my other pizzas?”

“I have a different idea.” Ryan raises an eyebrow. “I’ll pay your dad for all the deliveries you need to make tonight. Will that keep him happy?”

I tilt my head to the side, trying to decide if he’s drunk. He doesn’t look it, smell it, or act like it, so I conclude he’s sober. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ryan reaches out and grabs my hand. “Will you come inside for a coffee? My brother’s housekeeper is home, so we won’t be alone. I promise I won’t try anything on you. I’m just new out here, and I like your company.”

I bite my lip. It’s tempting—very tempting—but I can’t decide yet, so I let my mouth babble away. “Hey, how did you know I was outside the house? I didn’t even knock when I showed up today.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Me?” I squeaked.

“I mean it, Andi! Your visits are the most eventful parts of my day.”

Well, that does it. I’m a puddle. I don’t even know what he means by eventful, but the fact that he was waiting for me to arrive with those puppy dog brown eyes of his makes me weak. So, I agree, somewhat overenthusiastically.

“I think I’m in love with you—” The words slip out, and before I can rein them in, they’re out there, sitting right there in the open.

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost disappear into his hairline.

I have to do something, so I stutter. “Y-your abs. Love th-the abs.” This is not much better, but I’ve already failed enough today, so I leave it at that. No sense digging my hole any deeper.

Then, Ryan does something I don’t expect. “Well, if that’s the case, then here. Hopefully this will make your decision easier.”

I’m confused as he reaches for the bottom of his sweater. He lifts the edge, exposing the slightest hint of skin there. Though I can’t see much of him at all, what I can see is solid—hard, defined skin completely and utterly ready for kissing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, still staring.

“My abs would like to invite you inside for a coffee.”

He lets his abs sit on display for a solid thirty seconds. I hate to admit that, during those thirty seconds, I look, and I look, and I look some more. When he drops his sweater again, I clear my throat and meet his gaze.

“Do you flash all your delivery girls?” I ask, and luckily, this breaks the tension.

Ryan laughs a deep, genuine laugh that makes his chocolate eyes dance. He adjusts his shirt. “You’re the first, Andi. I’m doing whatever I can to get five minutes with you. I’d beg, but that wouldn’t be very manly of me.”

If anyone else had shown me their abs and invited me inside, I’d have called them a cocky bastard and hightailed it out of there. However, the way Ryan’s eyes glimmer with life, fill with amusement, dare me to say yes, I can’t help it. I snort.

“Fine,” I agree. “You’ve worn me down. I’d love a coffee.”

“I’m glad we’ve made up,” Ryan says, pulling me into the house, his hand wrapping around my lower back. “I don’t know how I’d survive if you broke up with me.”

“Eat a salad?”

He frowns. “Don’t joke about such things.”

 

***

Andi

Me: Angela, can you cover for me? I had something come up and won’t be able to make it back for my next delivery.

Angela: Ooh, let me guess. What is…

Me: You watch too much Jeopardy.

Angela: What is …Ryan’s penis?!

Me: Please cover?!

Angela: On it.

Me: Thank you, I love you times a million. xoxoxox<3<3<3<3

Angela: Enjoy his hockey stick.

She sends an eggplant emoji. It’s obvious what she’s insinuating with that poor fat eggplant, so I turn off my screen before Ryan can see the messages. Then, I follow him into his brother’s home.

Ryan’s busy giving me a moment of privacy as I finish sexting with Angela and her eggplants. When I look up and smile, he closes the door behind me.

I step farther into the entryway and take special care to brush against the front of Ryan’s sweater. He smells edible—shower gel mixed with the scent of the pizza on the nearby table. He smells so great, I wouldn’t mind sniffing him, but I refrain, because that’s weird.

I look up and admire the vaulted ceilings, which make the entryway feel a little like a museum. “Nice place,” I say, but it feels like I’ve called the Louvre pretty good.

Ryan shrugs, unimpressed. “It’s my brother’s taste.”

Past his shoulder, stainless steel appliances glimmer down the hall. Over the scent of pizza, I smell flowers, which is different than my house. Our house always smells like food—my sister is usually baking one cake or another, though sometimes she’ll try her hand at cookies. She gets it from my mom. My mom loved desserts.

“The place smells fabulous.”

“I’ve never figured out how it smells that way. I’m guessing it’s some cleaning shit Marissa uses.”

“And Marissa is…”

“The housekeeper.”

“Right.” I finger the flowers on the entryway table. “Beautiful.”

“I suppose.” Ryan looks through the flowers. “I don’t know why she stocks them since my brother and Lilia are hardly ever here. They travel all the time.”

“I think they’re a nice touch.” I pause awkwardly, looking down at my feet, wondering if this is the sort of home where I should take my shoes off and bathe them in frankincense before walking around.

My jeans and collared shirt feel wildly out of place, despite Ryan’s jeans and sweater. He looks like Zeus on Zeus’s day off, while I look like…well, a pizza delivery girl.

“Wine?”

Ryan gestures for me to follow him into the kitchen before I even have a chance to say yes or no. I’m just here for a slice of pizza, I remind myself.

“This escalated quickly,” I say with a smirk. “What happened to coffee?”

I decide this is a shoes-off sort of place and slide my feet out of my sneakers. I stare at my socks, wondering if they need to go too.

“Leave your socks on,” Ryan says, reading my thoughts. “Don’t think so hard. Whatever goes at your home goes here, too. Now come into the kitchen and please, relax.”

Damn, I like a man taking charge—especially when that man fills those jeans out the way he does, and…oh, God. I’m staring at Ryan’s ass again, and he catches me in the act.

“Would you like to touch it?” Ryan doesn’t look at me as he selects an ancient-looking bottle of wine from the rack above the counter. “Be my guest.”

“Touch it?” I step forward, reach for the bottle, and poke my finger at it.

“I meant my ass.” He turns, catching me in his arms. We’re in an awkward sort of hug, and I can’t quite meet his eyes because I don’t have a good answer. “I caught you staring.”

I cross my arms, determined to look confident, even if I feel like a trembling leaf inside. “I saw you checking out my rack earlier. Fair is fair. You look at my boobs, I look at your ass. I’m all about equality.”

“Me too.” Ryan sets the bottle of wine on the counter, takes out two glasses, and sets them down, but he doesn’t pour the drinks—not yet. Instead he puts his hands on my hips and guides me back, pressing me gently until my rear end hits the countertop.

My breath catches in my throat, and all of a sudden the world crashes around me. Here I am, Andi Peretti, standing in the kitchen of Ryan Pierce, and his hands are in the vicinity of my vagina. No. Shit.

I find my voice as he holds me against the counter and ask, “What are you doing?”