Why make a big deal of it?
He scrolled through his phone, clearing out old messages and emails, and realized he had tomorrow off thanks to Cash making up for the weekend.
Smith hadn’t talked to his brothers in more than one-word sentences since that dinner almost two weeks ago. They tiptoed around his growls and brusque attitude. But he didn’t care, still so angry about things beyond everyone’s control. He knew he shouldn’t blame them for growing up with their mother. They hadn’t had an easy time of it either.
But fuck, at least Angela hadn’t raised them to believe they had nothing going for them. Meg still fucked with his head, hearing her in his dreams and at times like this, when he should have been stoked about sharing a meal with Erin. Smith instead wondered why Erin wanted to be with him. For what she might get out of him? Money? Favors? Sex? That seemed to be her only interest. Yet she’d had time to hang with perfect Brad Battle, a fucking fireman no less. Pussy magnets, those firefighters.
But Erin had told him no. Or so she’d said.
What if she’d been lying?
He ordered their pizza and tried to control his thoughts, ignoring the notion he’d never be good enough for anyone or anything, wrestling familiar demons a constant trial. He tried to distract himself with a book and finally lost himself in a wizarding world far away, where evil wore black and the white knights won in the end.
If only life were that simple.
Someone knocked at the door.
His palms felt damp. Smith wiped them on his jeans, conscious he wore a form-fitting Tee-shirt on purpose. Hell, if Erin only wanted him for his body, he could handle that. As long as they could be honest with each other, he could deal with all his emotional bullshit, shoving it behind simple pleasure.
Feeling better about things and knowing he could please a woman, no question, he took back some well-deserved arrogance and opened the door.
The pizza guy stood there with two pies. Disappointed it wasn’t Erin, Smith paid the guy and stepped back inside.
Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t shown up.
When she finally knocked, he opened the door and snarled, “You’re late.”
She shoved the plate of goodies at him and snarled back, “You’re welcome.”
His ire faded, the sight of Erin in a mad was nothing compared to the sight of her bare legs. She wore shorts and a sweatshirt with butterflies on it.
“It’s October, and you’re wearing shorts?” Not that he was complaining. Though he’d seen her bare legs before, he’d been focused on other parts of her. But now, seeing those toned thighs and calves, her smooth skin so close, he wanted to touch her.
She blew out a breath, and her hair flipped up. “Something’s wrong with the heat in my apartment. It feels like a sauna in there. And my oven was acting weird. This is the second batch. The first one burned.”
“I’ll take a look at it.” He started to move past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Can we please just relax? I’m frazzled.”
He took a good look at her and nodded, now feeling bad about needling her. “Sure. Come on.” He led her to the kitchen island where two plates sat. “Extra cheese or the works?”
“One of each.” She smiled.
His surly mood vanished as if it had never been. Funny how her happiness seemed contagious, especially to a guy who didn’t usually have much to smile about. He served up the pie, giving himself the same. “Beer? Soda? Water?”
“Beer would be good. And don’t even think of calling me a lightweight,” she growled.
He held his hands up in surrender, trying not to smile at her. “No problem. You want an ale or a lager?”
“Something light.”
He handed her a pale ale and took a lager for himself. Then he stood across from her and watched her gobble down her pizza. He ate with her, and for a time, they didn’t talk, too full of cheese and dough.
“Sorry if I was crabby,” Erin apologized first.
“Me too.”
“What? You’re sorry I was crabby?” She grinned. “Or you’re sorry you answered the door like a jerk?”
