I’ve got her. I know a hangry woman when I see one. “Good, we’re having homemade pizza and hanging out.”
“Are we now?”
“Yes, because all work and no play makes Jessie a dull girl.” I bend down, booping her nose.
“I amnotdull.” She all but yells before jumping up off the couch.
“In all the time I’ve lived here, all I’ve seen you do is work and readcliterature.” I raise a brow, daring her to argue.
She stomps into the kitchen, and I follow. She shoots me a challenging look before pulling a bottle of wine out of the fridge. It’s been there since I moved in. Uncorking it, she takes a long pull straight out of the bottle.
Damn, girl.
This wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’m down. I smirk as I cross the kitchen to her. Taking the bottle out of her hand, I take my own drink. I’m not a big wine guy, but I’ll drink whatever she wants.
“I’ll show you dull, but first I need a shower.” Her eyes flick to my still-damp hair.
Images of Jessie in the shower flash through my mind.
“How long until the pizza is done?” she asks.
“About ten minutes.”
She turns on her heel and leaves me standing in the kitchen, holding the bottle of wine, breathing through my growing erection at the thought of her in the shower.
I check the pizza before grabbing a wine glass out of the cabinet and pouring her one. I hear the shower as I make my way down the hallway. After listening at the door to make sure she’s in the shower, I slowly open the door, creep in, and set the glass on the counter, then successfully sneak back out and into the kitchen.
I take the pizza out to rest. By the time it’s ready to cut, Jessie walks back down the hall.
She’s wearing black leggings and an oversized blue sweatshirt. Her hair falls around her shoulders, and I have to stop myself from staring. “Do we need a new rule?” she asks.
My heart rate kicks up.What the fuck did I do now?“Uh, I don’t know?”
She holds out the wine glass, now half-empty, and I smile. “I thought you might want some. The door has a lock, you know?”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t rib me further. I fill two plates with pizza and move to the table.
When she picks up a slice, she asks, “Is this pineapple? Most people hate it, but it’s my favorite.”
“You don’t say.” I take a slice of the nasty little yellow-spotted pizza, eyeing it warily.
“How did you know?”
“I can read minds,” I deadpan before taking a bite.
I must make a face because she laughs. “You obviously don’t like it, so fess up. Who told you? Gran or Kacey?”
I choke down the bite. “Kacey. For the price of one Barnes & Noble gift card.”
“And you never thought to just put it on half the pizza?”
“Well, when I thought of that, I had already spread the pineapple, so now I’ll eat it . . . or starve,” I reply, setting down the slice.
“You are so dramatic,” she teases as she steals my plate and starts picking the pineapple off my slices, adding them to hers. “So, I was thinking . . .”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “I do have a lot of PTO. And we’re fully-staffed at the moment, which is rare. So . . .” She slides my plate back to me. “Does that offer to join you in Arizona still stand?”
