Andrea hadn’t even thought about his scars.Even with them, he was still handsome.The scars hadn’t affected his baby blues eyes or that panty-melting smile.“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s fine.”His voice cracked like a whip.She had offended him, and she hadn’t meant to.Andrea had just assumed he needed people’s attention to feed his ego, when it was the opposite.He wanted to verify if he were still desirable just for being himself and not looks.
“Do you always make pizza from scratch?”she asked, trying to lighten the mood back up.
“Yes, delivery and frozen don’t taste near as good.”His voice was back to being jovial, but she knew it was a cover.He did that a lot.Hid pain with humor.
“You should add a pizza oven in the backyard if you like it so much.”
“I used to have one in my old backyard.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”He glanced over at her, a look of puzzlement on his face.“Why do you look surprised?”
“I don’t know, you seem like a guy who would have a grill or smoker in your backyard, not a pizza oven.”She shrugged, not knowing how else to explain it.
“Well, that just goes to show you shouldn’t judge a person on looks.”
Again a dig at her careless comment, but he was right.Every preconceived notion she had about Michael was wrong.He was constantly surprising her.
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, what?”he asked, leaning over to place his ear near her.“I didn’t catch that.”
“You are right.You don’t have to look so smug about it.”
“Never.Your dough is looking good.”
“Thanks.Watch this.”She tossed the pizza up like she’d seen in movies trying to spin the dough in midair.It half turned then fell back toward her.She tried catching it but only managed to get a corner and tear the rest in half.Well, that didn’t go as planned.She knew it wasn’t going to be masterful, but she thought it would at least hold together.
“Not bad for your first try.”
Anyone else would have probably laughed at her clumsy attempt.“Can you do it?”
Michael didn’t say anything but worked the dough, so his fingers were under it, and tossed it in the air about a few inches above his fingers.It spun several times before falling back down, and he caught it.
She couldn’t even accuse him of being a showoff since she’d asked him to do it.“Is that another skill you learned in the Army?”
“Navy,” he corrected.“And no.”
“A lover?”she guessed.
Michael gave her a side glance that he didn’t appreciate her always blaming lovers in his life for everything.She honestly shouldn’t.The man had a past.Even he’d admitted it.She shouldn’t hold that against him.“No, but I did travel through Italy, and a pizza maker showed me.I’m nowhere near his skills.”
“How did you manage to get them to teach you?Isn’t that like trade secret?”Andrea didn’t want to assume it was a woman who’d taught him.
“It’s not like I was asking for the recipe.I ate there a few times and asked questions.Finally, he took me in the back and showed me.”
“And you started making your own pizzas after that?”
Michael looked thoughtful.“Yeah, I guess I did.I bought one from the store when I came home and almost gagged.I’ve made my own ever since.Okay, dough is ready.Now for the toppings.I have more stuff in the fridge and pantry, but this is just the basics.I wasn’t sure what you like.”
“I’m easy.”She shrugged.“With pizza toppings,” she quickly added, realizing the innuendo she’d left hanging.
“Noted.”Michael chuckled.“So what’s your pleasure?”
Andrea looked over the assortment.“No pineapple?”
