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He shrugs, completely deadpan. “It was ordered for you. There’s a note.”
Without further ado, he shoves the two flat boxes into my arms. I’m immediately overwhelmed with the smell of garlic and cheese. The note tacked to the front of the box reads simply, “So you’ve got one less thing on your plate today before the game—Ruslan.”
It’s so strange to think that, just a couple of months ago, I thought Ruslan Oryolov was the spawn of Satan. The man hell-bent on ruining my life and putting me in an early grave. But somehow, in a matter of weeks, he’s become the knight in shining armor I never knew I needed.
How did he even know about Josh’s game?
Well, clearly, Josh told him. But the fact that he remembered? That he considered what my day might look like, only to try and make it easier?
I have genuinely never been this turned on. Sure, the man’s hot as sin—but even those amber eyes, those powerful arms, that strong jaw, all that pales in comparison to the turn-on that is an unexpected, thoughtful gesture. If I saw him help a grandma cross the street right now, I’d probably mount him in the middle of the pedestrian path.
I give the delivery guy a tip and a distracted thank you and walk the pizzas into the kitchen.
The moment Ben sees me, his eyes narrow. “You ordered pizza again?”
I set the boxes down on the counter and quickly slip Ruslan’s note into my pants pocket before he can see it. “From Phoebe. She wanted to do something nice before Josh’s big game.”
“What game?”
“Ben, are you kidding me? He’s only been talking about this all freaking week.”
Ben coughs and snaps his fingers towards the fridge. “Pass me another beer, will ya?”
“It’s one in the afternoon. Do you really need a drink?”
He scowls at me. “For God’s sake, when did you become such a pain in the ass? You’re not my wife. If you’re not sucking my dick, you’ve got no right to nag me, either.”
I glare at him furiously. “Now, Iknowyou’re joking.”
“You’re the one who started it,” he mutters. “Hey—the beer…?”
I ignore him and call for the kids. “Lunch, munchkins!”
Ben tosses me a dirty look and shoves past me to fetch himself another beer. The girls tumble into the kitchen, all knees and elbows, their little noses pointed upwards like hunting dogs on the scent.
Reagan gasps when she spots the pizza boxes on the counter. “Pizza! Woohoo!”
While the girls celebrate with a pizza dance that Caroline invented and takesveryseriously, Josh strides into the kitchen, already in his team uniform. He sits down opposite Ben, his eyes flitting sporadically to his father before going right back down to his lap.
The moment the girls stuff their faces with pizza, Josh makes use of the temporary quiet. “Dad, do you wanna come to my game today?”
Ben takes a swig of his beer and shifts in his seat. “Uh…”
I grit my teeth and cross my fingers, praying silently. How could he say no to that sweet face? Only a monster would say—
“Listen, kid, I’d really like to, but I’ve already got a helluva headache and sitting out in the sun isn’t gonna help.”
Guess that makes him a monster.
I walk up behind Josh and scowl at Ben. “It’s anindoorcourt.”
His mouth goes stupidly slack. “Still, it’s best I sit this one out. I’m not feeling great and you wouldn’t want me throwing up all over the court, right, J?” Josh nods silently and Ben lets out a satisfied burp. “Good kid. I’ll make the next game.”
Then he proceeds to heap his plate with pizza before he leaves the kitchen. A few seconds later, his door slams shut.
I sit down next to Josh. “I bet you’re the only kid there with his own personal cheerleading squad.” I cringe at how falsely bright my voice is. “Me, Caro, and Reagan—and you know Care Bear has that dance she’s been torturing me into learning. Heck, even Aunt Phoebe is joining!”
“I know.” Josh gives me a tight smile. “Anyway, I’m not hungry. May I be excused?”
