by Lily Kate
The name fits her. It’s a normal enough name, but also a little bit feisty, somewhat bouncy—just like her boobs. Now, I know that’s not the classiest thing I could say, but it’s impressive when a girl can fill out a stupid red polo shirt like she can, and they were even more noticeable in the tank top she was wearing today. I’m allowed to comment on her chest—it’s that fantastic.
Also, she’s funny. Half the time I’m not sure whether it’s intentional or not, but the whole thing works for her. I want to get to know her better, and not only her boobs—her face too, and her personality, I’m just not sure how to get there. At the moment, the only thing I can think of is ordering more pizzas.
See, I’m only in town for a few more weeks, just until we get this business sorted out with the Ice Queen, and I’m not looking for anything long term. I’m not even looking for anything short term. I’m looking for one night, maybe—two tops.
Andi seems like the sort of girl who doesn’t have time for bullshit. She probably considers a one-night stand bullshit, and that’s completely fair. I want a no-strings-attached, fantastic night with Andi, and for once, I’m not sure how to get it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d make sure it was fantastic for her, too—I’m not a pig. I just don’t have time for a relationship. I’m also honest and up front, so I’m not going to ask for something she’s not willing to give.
But even so… I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s rude to ask a woman if she’s up for a roll in the hay and a few orgasms? I intend to make it worth her while.
It makes everything more difficult that I didn’t have the balls to ask for her phone number while she was right in front of me—although, I really do think it has less to do with my balls than the fact that she distracted me with the news about my car, and that she glanced at my crotch, blushed, and then sent my mind spiraling toward dirty places.
Plus, it just feels like I’m being a perv if I ask for her number while she’s holding a pizza. She must get hit on all the time as a delivery girl. With a chest like hers and a smile that makes me want to hold her, take her inside, and never let her leave, it’s a no-brainer—she probably has dates lined up every night of the week.
To add proof to my theory, she did already turn me down once. I asked her to come inside for a slice of pizza, and while most girls would’ve dropped the pizza and taken off their clothes right there, she ran away so fast she left her bumper behind.
Now, I’m not trying to be cocky here, but when a young, single hockey player is having a great season and looking to sign the deal of the year, bunnies come running. I can’t help it; it’s a fact of life.
But I don’t want a bunny. I don’t get any satisfaction out of sleeping with a bunny, even if I’ve fallen victim to their charms once or twice. I prefer a girl with her head on her shoulders. Andi’s head might be a little awkward, judging by the things that come out of her mouth, but I can tell she’s a nice girl.
I’m pacing around my kitchen like an angsty teenager. Andi persists in my mind, no matter how hard I try to get her out. It’s not until I glance at my watch that I’m startled into action.
Exhaling a less-than-enthusiastic sigh, I head upstairs to get ready for my night out with the Blonde Bitch. We’re going to some hoity-toity restaurant in The Hills and then to some show at the Pantages to “talk” and “get to know each other.”
I have no clue why she cares about my personality—if I’m good enough on the rink, I’m good enough to be signed—but Lawrence set this up as a favor. As much as I sometimes can’t stand my brother, he’s gone out on a limb for me, and I won’t let him down.
As such, it’s time to shower, shave, and hit the road.
And try not to think about Andi. Though she left a temporary dent in my bumper, she left a permanent impression on my mind.
CHAPTER 9
Andi
It’s been another week, and I’ve heard exactly nothing from Ryan Pierce. I suppose crashing into a man’s car will have that effect on a relationship—not that what Ryan and I have between us is a relationship. It’s nothing at all, really.
Although, I did answer the phone once this week for Angela, and I thought I heard his voice. I hung up immediately. It might not be mature, but it was for the best. Our insurance companies can work things out without me getting involved.
In fact, it is best for the city as a whole if I cut off all contact with Ryan Pierce. I nearly totaled one car after a quick glimpse of his abs; if I saw Ryan naked, all of Los Angeles would be in flames. It’s safer if we don’t have contact.
In other news, it has been a promising week for the comedy business! I’ve had gigs more nights than not. I performed at seedy clubs and dark venues where it was probably best my car lacked a bumper, but at least it was something.
I even picked up a part in a movie—a low-budget movie, but the part paid a hundred bucks for the day and offered free food. I went for the food.
“Andi, quit talking to yourself in the mirror!” My dad pounds on the bathroom door at Peretti’s. “We’ve got an order for you.”
I’m not talking to myself; I’m on the phone with the insurance company, speak of the devil. Surprisingly, they’d heard nothing about a car crash between my old clunker and an uber-fancy Ferrari.
I pestered the insurance lady so much she finally huffed off the phone and said she’d review her records. It’s not that I want to pay for an expensive fix on a Ferrari, but I’d rather go in debt over it than have my dad find out.
“I’m coming!” I yell, whispering to the insurance woman that she’ll be hearing from me soon. “One second, I’m waxing my face.”
My dad makes a disgusted noise in his throat and yells at me about improper use of company time. I nod along in the mirror and take a look at my thighs. They might be a little bit skinnier because, for the past week, I’ve been parking the car around the block and running to and from our building every time I have a delivery. I haven’t figured out what to tell my dad about the missing bumper.
My dad’s footsteps march away, and I quickly hit redial. “Hello, Amanda, it’s me again…” I pause as Amanda the insurance lady transfers me at hello.
“Ma’am, as I’ve explained every day for the past week, I will call as soon as I hear something,” Tom says. Tom is the exasperated operator I’ve talked to every other day this week. Tom and I are friends.
“Are you sure? Remember what I told you yesterday—”
“I remember, Andi. I have your name and your number memorized, unfortunately. I know that in the event of a claim, I should not call Mr. Peretti, who is listed on the account. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Good, yes. Very good.” I nod to myself. “Thanks Tommy.”
“It’s Tom. We’re not friends, Andi. I’ve gone over this with you.”
“Got it.”
“Goodbye, Andi.”
“Bye, Tom.”
My father pounds on the door. “I don’t care if you have a mustache, I hope you clocked out for this, Andi!”
I close my phone and slide out from behind the door. “Dad, we’ve talked about this. When I’m in the bathroom, you have to leave me alone.”
My dad’s thick black hair stands up like a miniature afro. “I would, except you’re missing a very important call. Until you graduate, you’ve gotta listen to me.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. I am about to start my last semester of school. I’ll graduate this winter, one semester early, with my degree in accounting. My dad reminds me quite often that if I want to work for the family business and live at home while trying to get a foothold in the comedy industry, I need to be in school. Once I get my degree, I can “try that comic thing” with his blessing. If it doesn’t work, I can be an accountant.
“Delivery, Andi!” Angela saves me from this conversation. “You’re gonna love this one.”
I worm around my dad and lean my arms against the counter. “Cool, where to?”
“Los Feliz.”
&nb
sp; I shake my head. “Oh, no. No, no, nope.”
Angela gives a fake pout, and then she lifts up a pizza. It has a smiley face. “Say hello to your new lover boy.”
“I’m sick.” I fake a cough. “Can you please, please go for me?”
My dad shakes his head. “Ryan asked for you. Put a smile on your pretty face and deliver the pizza.”
“I don’t have a pretty face,” I moan. “And how do you know his name?”
“Then find one, somewhere,” Mr. Peretti says. “Borrow Angela’s. Smiles wants his pizza.”
My dad has taken to calling Ryan “Smiles”. Earlier this week, when Ryan hadn’t called in for a few days, Papa Peretti cornered me and asked if I’d done anything to upset our number one customer. I didn’t really lie, I just…dodged the question.
“Gotta go, Dad!” I lean against the counter and try one last attempt to persuade Angela. “Please, please, can you make this one delivery for me?”
“You know I don’t do deliveries,” she said. “Plus, I’ve got three pizzas waiting in the oven. No offense, but if I leave you in charge of them, this place will be burned down by the time I get back.”
“That might be true, but at least we could collect insurance money.”
She shrugs. “It won’t be so bad. Drop it on the front steps and play ding-dong ditch. Say it’s a free pizza. He’s tipped enough for ten free pizzas.”
I nod, thinking maybe she has a point. “Yeah, all right. I think I can do that.”
“But if they’re having sex, don’t ring the doorbell. That’s a real mood killer,” Angela says with a serious expression. “That sort of ding dong ain’t welcome in the heat of the moment.”
“Lovely. Your visuals are really out of this world.”
“And if he opens the door in his undies again, take a picture.”
“No, that’s creepy.”
Angela gives me a skeptical expression. “Right, and hiding in his bushes isn’t.”
“What am I supposed to do, whip out my phone, snap a photo, and say gotcha?”
“God, you need to learn how to be sneaky.”
“I’m not a creep! I don’t need these skills.”
“Oh, you’re a creep, you’re just a bad one.” Angela shoves the pizza toward my chest. “Now go before your dad has an aneurysm.”
I grumble and slink out of the store, beginning my half-mile jaunt to the car. I look longingly at the empty company parking space. Maybe I should talk to Ryan about the car. Maybe we could make some sort of deal where I could clean his toilet or rake his leaves for the next three years in order to work off the damage.
There could be worse things in life. I might catch another glimpse of his abs.
Silver lining, folks.
CHAPTER 10
Andi
“What are you doing?” Ryan opens the door to his brother’s home.
I’m bent over, ass in the air as I arrange the perfect smiley face on the pizza, just how Ryan likes it. I was also preparing to ding-dong ditch my dad’s star client, but I’ve been caught in the act, which defeats the whole ditching part.
The note I was writing flaps in the breeze and draws both of our gazes to it. As Ryan’s eyes light with curiosity, I find myself praying an eagle will swoop down and carry it away for me.
“Ryan!” I stand, stretch, and pretend not to be embarrassed. Not that I’m counting, but this is the third time he’s opened the door to find me in a strange position. “How’s it going?”
He leans against the door, this time dressed in washed-out jeans and a half-zip sweater, the kind with soft fabric, a half-collar, and a whole pile of sexiness. He looks relaxed and so freaking sexy I almost squash the pizza as I take a step backward.
“Why’s the pizza on the ground?” His eyes are still focused on the note there and, by the time he looks up, understanding has dawned in his eyes. “You were going to ring the doorbell and leave.”
“Not exactly.”
“You were going to ding-dong ditch me.” Ryan steps over the pizza and moves close enough that I can smell his cologne. “Why?”
It’s delicious, like a pan of warm-baked brownies, and I take a deep inhale. “I would never do something like that.”
“Right.”
“I was trying to put the extra Parmesan cheese packets in the box like you asked for. Angela forgot, and we at Peretti’s like to deliver top-notch service.”
His eyes turn all sparkly, as if he’s amused. The smile curving his lips upward makes my insides tingle. The thought that I made Ryan Pierce smile is like getting all I ever wanted for Christmas. It’s incredible the way he’s looking at me like I’m someone important, someone he might like to be friends with, and I want to say more funny things just to keep that grin on his face.
“Where can I leave a review?” he asks. “Ten stars on a scale of one to five. You’re perfect.”
I’m melting inside like one of those lava cakes. He’s standing barely a foot away from me, hands shoved into his pockets. That sweater is calling my name; it wants my arms inside, wrapped around Ryan’s tapered waist, my head on his chest, that gorgeous smile pressed against my forehead.
“It’s nothing.” I wave a hand, feeling my cheeks redden. “I’m going to head out now. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I have to pay you.”
“Oh, no. This one’s on me. You’ve over-tipped me so much I owe you a pizza.” I thumb over my shoulder. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt, so I’m going to head out, and I’ll—”
“Interrupt what?” Laughing, Ryan reaches for my arm. His fingers clasp around my wrist before I’ve made it off the steps. “I just ate, Andi. I ordered the pizza so I could talk to you. You’re not interrupting anything.”
This is the closest thing I’ve heard to a pickup line in almost a year, and it sends shivers down my spine, quite literally.
Ryan’s looking concerned since I’m shivering in the middle of summer in Los Angeles, but he must be used to my strangeness by now because he lets it go and turns his attention back to the pizza.
It’s now that I realize those damn eagles never swooped in to steal the note I’d been writing. He reaches over to grasp it. I see it happening, but I’m too late to stop anything. I make an attempt to lunge for it, miss wildly, and pretend to tuck hair behind my ear as he straightens, paper in hand.
“What’s this?” he asks.
I make a weak grab for it. “Please don’t read that.”
“But you’ve written my name on it. You were leaving this for me, right?” Ryan’s eyes twinkle as he pulls the note closer to his face.
I make a second feeble lunge for the note, but Ryan dodges, his athleticism obvious even in the simplest of movements. While Ryan dodges, however, my hand continues its trajectory toward his stomach where, instead of retrieving the piece of paper, I cop a feel of his abs—and what a damn good feel it is.
“Sorry,” I say, retracting my hand like I’ve been burned. “I was going for the—”
“Is this a breakup note?” Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, a grin blossoming across his face. “Andi Peretti, are you breaking up with me?”
“No.” I give up reaching for the note and stare at my toes. “I didn’t mean it.”
“But Andi…” That sexy smile peeks across Ryan’s lips as he steps forward, his breath hot in my hair. “How can we break up if we’ve never consummated our relationship?”
“Well, uh…” I step back. “It’s sort of a breakup note. I’m breaking up with you…as your delivery girl.”
Ryan reads the note once more, this time aloud.
“Dear Ryan, These last few weeks have been really, really fun, but I don’t think I can see you any longer. I’ve interrupted your sex life, crashed your car, and now I’ve ding-dong ditched you. I’m the world’s worst delivery girl. Please consider ordering from another pizza place. Sincerely, Andi.”
“I hate to point fingers,” I say once he’s finished, “but if you hadn’t answered t
he door in your towel, none of this would have happened.”
“How is that related to anything?”
“Forget about it.”
Ryan steps forward. “And what is this about my sex life?”
“The other night! Well, a few weeks ago now. The first time I delivered your pizza…”
He blinks. “That’s impossible.”
I cough. “Um, I’m pretty sure the sounds I heard weren’t in my imagination. Unless—” I clap a hand over my mouth. “Was it a movie?”
Ryan looks more confused than ever. “What are you talking about?”
“Wait a second, it couldn’t have been a movie.” I gesture toward his front window. “I saw shapes and…parts.”
He thinks for a long minute and then finally, he smiles. It’s more of a smirk than a smile really, and he laughs. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“That wasn’t me. It was my brother and his fiancée.”
“Lilia,” I fill in. “We’ve met.”
“Ah,” he says. “Well, yes. What can I say? They’re in love, and it is their place. I’m just crashing here on business. I am sorry you had to see that, however.”
“There’s one question I still need answered.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“If they were the ones having sex, why were you naked too?”
He runs a hand through his shaggy mess of hair. “I was hardly naked!”
“You had a towel around my waist.”
“My waist,” he says, calling me out on my Freudian slip. “I had a towel around my waist.”
“Yeah, well…” My face is heating. “You didn’t have anything on underneath.”
“You looked?”
“No, but—”
“It’s okay, I looked too.” He winks at me, and I forget my train of thought. Then he speaks again, and I snap back to attention. “And I liked what I saw.”
I swallow. “What did you see?”
“You, Andi. You are goddamn sexy.”
I’m flustered. Hot and bothered doesn’t even begin to describe it, so I do my favorite thing and change the subject. “You never answered my question, Mr. Pierce!”
