Was I obsessed with money? Yes. But only because I didn’t have any despite working like a million jobs. I’d become good at spinning my wheels day after day without getting anywhere. It was frustrating.
When a big man wearing a tight t-shirt that stretched across his muscled chest opened the door, I discovered I could forget all my obsessions at once because I suddenly had a new one.
His smile widened when he saw me, as if he knew who I was.
His dark hair was wet, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. Of course, I immediately pictured him naked, water cascading down his body.
Did I lick my lips? I wasn’t sure, but he focused on them just before he smiled knowingly. “How much do I owe you?”
His voice was deep, and he had a slight accent whenever he said a word with anosound. I couldn’t place where he’d gotten it, but he definitely hadn’t been born in America. He sounded familiar, too. It wasn’t just the house I somehow recognized. It was him, too. But I knew we’d never met before. I would’ve remembered him. Right?
I cleared my throat. I knew the second I spoke that something stupidly inappropriate would come out of my mouth. I wanted to avoid that, but the only way was to give myself a little pep talk to shut the fuck up about anything besides the guy’s order. “Um...” I had to look at the ticket. “Eighteen seventy-four.”
He grabbed a wallet off the table behind him. The first thing I noticed was that there was only one wallet and no purse. The second was the exceptional craftsmanship. I could tell it was custom even from a distance. I wanted to ask about it, but I said the first thing that came to mind. Like an idiot. “Do you live in this big house all alone?”
Shit. Did I just ask a paying customer about his living situation? Worse, I said it all breathy, like I was Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to the president.
He smirked. “Do pizza delivery drivers usually ask that?”
Only when they wanted to climb the customer like a tree. That was what I was thinking, but what came out of my mouth was, “Only for guys named Grymley Reaper.”
The guy chuckled and handed me two twenties. “Keep the change.”
That was a generous tip. “Thank you.”
I took the pizza out of the warming bag and handed him the box. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“I suppose I can’t stop you.” He smiled with his eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone do that before, especially not someone whose dark gaze saw right into my soul.
I’d seen that dark gaze before. Somewhere in my mind, a memory stirred, and I knew, in fact, that I had met him before. I just couldn’t put my finger on where.
“Would you think it was weird if your delivery driver texted the phone number you provided on your order?”
“Yes, considering that’s a landline. Hang on.” He set the pizza on the entryway table and grabbed a pen and paper. He wrote on it, then handed it to me. When I looked at it, it had his name, Grym, and a phone number. “That’s my cell.”
“Seriously?” Someone as hot as Mr. Death Angel couldn’t possibly be into someone like me. Could he? I worked at a pizza joint and ate more than I should, and it showed. I’d been told I was cute and had a nice smile, but I wasn’t sure whether people were trying to spare my feelings or if it was actually true.
“I look forward to hearing from you.” There went the smiling-with-his-eyes thing again. His eyes had been sad the last time I saw him. The sparkle was missing. But when had that been?
“Okay. Well, enjoy your pizza.” I waved, then thought about his entryway table and how I’d like to make something like it. The design possibilities floated through my head.
“Stay safe, Elliot Coyne.”
I was a little disappointed our time together was so brief. There was something about being in his presence that soothed me. I felt safe. Not that I felt unsafe anywhere he wasn’t, but he’d given me a sense of security I hadn’t felt since my mom passed away. It was odd that he would.
Wait. Did he just call me by name? I turned, but he was already closing the door.
The door clicked shut.
With the empty warming bag under my arm, I took out my phone and texted the number he’d given me. It could be fake.
I put him in my phone as Mr. Death Angel.
I have another question.
Of course you do.He ended with a winky face emoji.
I grinned and fist-pumped because he answered so quickly. Then I remembered I was still in his driveway. He could probably see me if he looked out a window, which would be so embarrassing. Just to make sure, I turned and searched every window. I saw him at the door, which had fancy colored glass.
