Page 24 of My Favorite Hero

She narrowed her eyes, staring at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.”

“You look tired.”

“I always am after three days straight. This time, it was four. I’m beat.” I swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm beer. “Got your date lined up?”

She tilted her head. “I wasn’t aware I was going on a date.”

“With your delivery guy.” I indicated the wall that separated our living spaces. “Sorry I showed up. I’m sure Cal would have loved to help you test out the new bed,” I said with an exaggerated eye roll. I snorted into my almost-empty can. “Although I’m sure you can do better than a deliveryman.”

She stared at me, and I wasn’t sure if she was about to punch me or laugh in my face.

Maybe both.

She leaned down, her hand on her hip. “For your information, Cal is working part time as he goes to school to pay for his rent and tuition. His wife, Lori, is already working full time so he can get his degree. He invited me to go out with them and some other friends, as a group, since he knew I was new in town and thought Lori and I would get along.”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise at her tone. I had a feeling that punch was coming next.

“And if you think I’d bed some stranger who delivered my furniture, you are a lousy judge of character.”

“Right,” I muttered. “My bad.”

She turned and picked up Barney, ignoring Miller’s low whine of protest and how unhappy her cat looked.

“I get you’re grumpy. But today, I would add asshole to the list.”

She turned, pausing by the door. “I brought you dinner to say thanks for helping and because I figured you’d be tired. I’m not going to take it back since I want to think you’re being an asshole because you’re tired. And because I’m a bigger person.”

She left, allowing the screen door to slam shut behind her. Then as quickly as she walked out, she burst back in again.

“For future reference, Thorne, I would at least wait until he bought me dinner and a drink before I let him help me test the bed. You might want to remember that.”

And then she was gone.

I set down my beer and groaned.

She was right on all counts.

I was tired. I was a grump, and today, I’d acted like an asshole.

A jealous asshole.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I lifted the lid on the plate, staring at the food she had left me. Pot roast. Hot, fragrant, still-steaming pot roast. With potatoes and carrots.

Smothered in onion gravy.

Goddammit, I loved onion gravy.

I grabbed a fork and sat down, taking a mouthful of the meat. It fell apart as I cut it and was so flavorful, I slammed my hand on the table and cursed.

“Dammit, this is good.”

I ate steadily until the plate was clean. Then I grabbed a slice of bread and mopped up every bit of that gravy. I sat back with a groan.

Why the fuck had I pissed her off, today of all days? I couldn’t exactly ask for more now. I wanted to, but I was certain she’d slam the door in my face. I’d be Oliver Twist, begging for seconds, only to be cast aside.