He took the offered snack and water, and bit into one of the apple slices. “Granny Smith. My favorite.”
Paige knew that. She’d grown up ignorant to the various types of apples. He’d turned her on to the many different options when it came to the fruit, and it had changed her world.
“There’s a small bathroom behind the garage.” She pulled a key out of her pocket and gave it to him. “Here.”
He smiled. “Does this mean you’re going to talk to me?”
“No.” She backed away and shut the door again.
An hour later, Paige sat down to enjoy the beautiful spinach salad she’d made with the fresh produce she’d ordered from the market. She’d just poured her homemade Italian dressing on top when she heard a car door slam.Maybe he’s finally leaving?
She stood and walked to the front of the house, just in time to see a pizza delivery guy step onto the porch. Andrew wasn’t there anymore, though. Instead of the thrill of victory, she’d only felt the sting of defeat. He’d honored her wishes, yes. She should be happy about that. But it still felt like he’d deserted her again, given up without a fight.
For a few seconds, she stood there, torn between opening the door or not. The guy looked innocent enough, like a young school kid delivering pizzas for prom money. His blond hair fell just below his ear. The skater jacket, skinny jeans, and Vans were new, and he didn’t strike her as the type who would watch a romantic comedy.
Paige had already made the mistake of opening the door to Andrew, though—without properly assessing the threat level. Luckily, it had beenhimand not a reporter or someone else. But . . .
Fuck it. Decision made, she pulled the door open and smiled. “I think you have the wrong address. I didn’t order a pizza?”
The young guy’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?” Shaking her head, she confirmed that she hadn’t ordered anything to eat. “You have the wrong address.”
The man set the pizza down on a chair and fumbled with his bag, shoving his hand inside and pulling a piece of paper out. He read her address aloud. “This is the address I have.”
“But I didn’t order a pizza,” she insisted.
“I did.” Andrew climbed the steps, wiping his hands with a paper towel. “I ordered the pizza.”
Paige’s mouth fell open.What. The. Hell?
“Thanks, man.” Andrew handed the delivery guy several bills.
The young man grinned with wide eyes. “Wow! Thankyou, sir!” He turned to her and waved. “Bye, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Now, she felt “punked”andold.
Andrew opened the box of pizza and smirked. “Looks good.”
Oh my God, it smells so good. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him that. Instead she said, “What are you still doing here, Andrew? And why did you order a damn pizza?”
“I’m hungry,” he said simply. “Figured I’d get something for dinner.”
He held the open box out to her, but she didn’t look inside. Pizza was not on her diet. She’d spent the last week eating a shitload of bad stuff. She needed to get back on her plan.
Glaring at him, she growled, “I told you to leave. Why are you doing this?”
“I told you. I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” He bit into a slice. A slice of herfavoritepizza.
The pizza looked like heaven smothered in cheese and sauce. The juicy tomatoes glistened, the chunks of feta cheese glimmered, and the thick pieces of chicken glowed like a beacon of bright light. The pizza called to her. The pizza wanted her to eat it. And the man eating it looked just as appetizing, with his smooth brown skin and his broad shoulders and his muscular arms and his long fingers.
Wait a minute . . .She shook her mind free from that wayward thought, because it had no place there. He was her agent. That’s it, that’s all. Yes, she used to count him among her small group of friends, but he wasn’t even that anymore. Closing her eyes, she decided to try a different tactic.
“Look, thank you for coming to check on me. But I’m fine. If you want to help me, contact the studio and let them know that I need more time.” She plastered a smile on her face. “Okay?”
Andrew narrowed his eyes on her as he chewed.
“Okay?” she repeated.
“Want a slice?” he asked, completely disregarding what she’d said. “It’s good. It has—”
