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I tried not to bug my eyes at the cost.
One: I was in the wrong business, even if I was a lawyer.
Two: If Dolly made it through the night, I was getting her fluffy little ass insured.
I signed, paid, and all but dragged Immy out of the building before Kate could hit me with any more forms. There would probably be a charge for their dinner on there, too.
Shit. Talking of dinner: it was almost eight, and I hadn’t eaten.
“Get in. We’re getting pizza.” Immy got right into her car and slammed the door before I could answer.
I could go for pizza.
I got in next to her, and I’d barely clipped in my seatbelt when she reversed out of her parking space. “We?”
“Well, I’m not taking you home and then going back out for pizza,” she said smarmily. “And the stupid ass place never gets my order right, even though ‘pepperoni’ is really not me speaking Chinese.”
“Can you speak Chinese?”
“If I could, I’d be wasted teaching ceramic painting to seven-year-olds.” She hit the blinker stick. “If you don’t want pizza…”
“I’ll take a pizza,” I said quickly. “Nothing wrong with pizza.”
“Good. You’re paying.”
“I am, am I?”
“Yes. I’m a starving artist, and you’re a fancy lawyer.”
“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard, and I have a three-year-old.”
“Fine. I drove you to the vet even though I can barely stand to be around you. I deserve free pizza.”
I grinned. “There it is.”
“Don’t grin at me, Mason.”
“Why? You afraid you might, smile back at me? That would really mess with the whole hating me narrative, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, shut your face.” She huffed out a breath and turned down another street. “I like pepperoni pizza with a cheesy stuffed crust, and they do these amazing little garlic bread balls that go well with their ranch.”
“So you’re telling me I should order you a pepperoni pizza with a cheesy stuffed crust and garlic bread balls with ranch.”
“I was just telling you what I like.”
“Mmm.” I fought against a smile. “Noted. Anything else? Would you like me to run to the liquor store across the street for a bottle of wine?”
“It would be a nice thank you for my sacrifice.”
“Your sacrifice?”
“Fine, my neighborly goodwill.”
I rolled my eyes as she parked, then got out of the car. “I’ll order, run to the store, then come back in time. Does that sound acceptable, Your Highness?”
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “You get the pizza. I’ll go grab the wine.”
“The wine? Are you sharing?”
“Not freaking likely.” She snorted and pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Anyone who shares wine isn’t someone worth spending time with. I thought everyone knew that.”
“Testing you.” I grinned and got out of the car, then stopped. I got my wallet from my pocket and pulled out a twenty, then passed it to her over the top of the car. “For wine. And beer.”
Immy rolled her eyes but she took the bill I offered her with a flourish and turned, slamming the car door behind her. I shut my door and waited as she locked it, then watched her go.
Jesus, she was hot.
I shook my head and turned around toward the pizza place before I chased after her and grabbed her to kiss her. That was how I felt in general when I looked at her now anyway—the urge to pull her against me and kiss the hell out of her.
I wished that was a new development.
I’d honestly wanted to since the moment I’d seen her on the front porch when I’d moved in.
I stepped inside and placed the order, then took a seat to wait. It wasn’t that busy, which hopefully meant I wouldn’t be hanging around here for too long.
Which, in turn, meant I wouldn’t have to sit here and think about kissing Imogen anymore.
For at least five minutes, anyway.
Maybe.
Fuck.
This was not how I’d planned my evening. First Dolly’s little feast—and I still had to figure out exactly how she’d gotten into that chocolate—and now all I could think about was grabbing Immy and kissing her.
And the pizza.
Jesus, I needed to pick something to obsess over and get on with it.
My order was thankfully called before I could wrap myself up in any more knots. I took it from the young girl and checked everything, then thanked her and headed back out to Immy’s car.
“Oh, God, that smells like heaven,” she groaned when I got in. “Belt up, let’s go, I’m starving.”
Laughing, I clipped my seatbelt into place and held tightly onto the pizza boxes as she tore out of the parking lot onto the main road.
“All right, we can’t actually eat the pizza if we die on the way there,” I pointed out.
“Well, at least I won’t be hungry anymore,” she grumbled, hitting the blinker stick.
“You’d rather be dead than hungry?”
