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I frowned. “How do I know you’re the pizza man?”
“You have a peephole?”
Was this some kind of test? “Um, maybe?”
“See my badge? It says pizza man.” He made a sound of derision. “Release the door. I don’t have all night.”
I didn’t appreciate his attitude. “Excuse me, you don’t have all night? You are approximately,” I consulted my watch, since my phone was in the other room, “forty-five minutes late. I never eat past six-thirty.”
“Oh, so very sorry, lady, but it’s Saturday and the shop gets busy. Now you want this double cheese and pep and sausage or what?”
Something about the way he said lady had my hackles rising. And maybe my nipples a little too, because I must have heretofore unexplored masochistic tendencies. “Your tip is in serious peril right now. Also, that was only double pep and cheese. No double sausage. Single sausage,” I enunciated carefully, not fully realizing what a juvenile male would get out of my statement until he snorted.
“Got it. Too bad Fritz didn’t get it on the phone though, because this pie is covered with extra sausage. Want me to take it back and get you another one? Dinner’s gonna be real late tonight then.” His tone was openly mocking. “Or maybe you want me to pick it off for you?”
Barely smothering a snarl, I pressed the door release. “Come on up.” I gritted my teeth, my innate manners kicking in. “Please.”
I’d just shove the money at him and make do with my extra sausage. It wasn’t as if that was a problem I had to contend with in any other area of my life.
A knock sounded a moment later. Jeez, had he run up the stairs? Must be younger than he sounded.
I yanked open the door and frowned at the big, muscular figure looming in the shadowy hallway. This was what I got for not using the peephole. Small town or not, I knew better. At least then I would’ve had some warning.
Some time to prepare, since now there was no doubt my nipples were doing a double-barrel salute.
I knew this man.
Just as he knew me.
Dare cocked his head, shifting his pizza box more under his arm as he let his gaze drift over me in a slow perusal. He took long enough for me to recall every bit of my outfit, from the dangling strings hanging down my thighs from my almost obscenely short cut-offs to my bare feet to the knot under my breasts that barely hid my bra.
He was checking out all of that, and he did not seem to be finding any part of me lacking. I flushed all over, gripping the knob to keep highly inappropriate things from leapfrogging from my mouth.
Sexual innuendoes were not out of the question.
Jesus, if only I’d known I was discussing sausage with Dare, I would’ve turned down the bitchy and turned up the flirty.
His had to be stupendous. His sausage, I mean. His flirt quotient probably wasn’t bad either, once he dialed down the growling.
As for me, I had to have some serviceable flirtation skills somewhere. Especially when he was eating me up with his eyes and not being shy about it.
“Fancy seeing you again, Nuts Lady,” he said finally, moving forward and lightly pushing the pizza box into my stomach. “Got enough pie in this box for two?”
I swallowed over the lump in my dust dry throat. The man was a sex wizard. A master. He made pizza talk into the highest form of foreplay, and I was so there for it.
“I’ve got enough pie in this box for everyone.” As he chuckled and my face flamed, I dropped my gaze to the design on the carton. It was an old Italian dude with a huge mustache. “It’s an extra large.”
“My favorite size,” he said lightly.
When I didn’t say anything, he lifted a brow. “Can I come in?”
I wasn’t sure if he was just asking about entering my apartment or entering me, but either way, the answer was hell yes. I stepped back and waved an arm. “Don’t mind the mess.”
“Moving day?” He stepped over the assorted crap on the floor and glanced back, his gaze roaming over me once again. As slowly as if
he had all night. “New to the neighborhood, huh?”
All at once, the reality that he worked at the auto shop next door slammed into me. And by into me, I meant in between my legs.
