Spiced

by Jamie Farrell

  “You’re not—”

  “I keep trying to tell myself that, but I’m not listening yet.”

  He eased closer to her. His arms ached to hold her, and his heart hurt for her. “Your family know yet?”

  She shook her head. “Not ready for the inquisition and suggestions. Plus, things with Tarra and her breakup have gotten complicated. It’s not my turn to be an attention hog, and I don’t want the attention they’d want to give anyway.”

  “Family sucks sometimes.”

  “They mean well. They just… They think there’s nothing I can’t do. And I like that. I don’t want to be like Ginger, always needing validation. I don’t want to be like Cinna, bouncing around and mooching. But I don’t know how not to be me with them. Even though I’m not feeling all that much like I’m good ol’ Pepper Super Star right now.”

  “You’re still standing.”

  “I’m faking it.”

  He pinned her against the prep table. Not touching her wasn’t an option. “Know what you need?”

  “Somehow, I doubt you’re going to suggest a hug.”

  “Not even three weeks, and you already know me so well.”

  A smile broke through the clouds. A smile, and a spark of interest. Her fingers trailed down his chest. “What do I need?”

  “Pizza.” He snagged a piece behind her and brought it to her lips. “Pizza cures everything. Especially if you eat it while it’s hot.”

  Her surprised laugh brought more sunshine into the kitchen. “And here I thought you were offering something else.”

  “Yeah, and you’re going to need your energy.”

  He fed her two slices of pizza, teasing her and touching her and laughing with her. Then he locked up, took her home, and showed her his bedroom. Kicked Lucky out. Turned that laughter to gasps and moans.

  And he lost himself in being with a woman who couldn’t ever hurt him the way Tabitha had.

  17

  A week later, Pepper was unexpectedly alone after work. Cinna was tending bar at Suckers, and Mom had picked up Gran and George to take them to check out a new senior living facility. Sadie was asleep on the floor, and Pepper was trying to read a book.

  But the house was too quiet.

  She’d almost texted Tony eighteen times in the last twenty minutes, but she’d sent him some variation of Want to come over? or Want company? every night the last week. And every time, he’d cooked for her, entertained her with stories of life in the food industry, listened to her tales from the bridal industry, and in general, acted the part of the perfect boyfriend.

  He was the perfect boyfriend. Her perfect boyfriend.

  And the anxiety was settling in.

  What if she was being too clingy? Wanting to see him too much? Stifling him?

  What if she was getting boring?

  Dating without the pressure of settling down, getting married, and having kids was amazing. She’d never had this much fun with another person, just talking and cooking and playing Skee-Ball. Ice skating. Snowball fighting. Making love.

  But not having an end goal was weird.

  Or was this the end goal? It didn’t have a date, a milestone, or a way of measuring.

  They simply…were.

  But they could be more.

  He knew she couldn’t have kids. After his experience with his ex-wife, she had no idea if he wanted kids or not, but if he did, maybe he’d be open to adopting. In another few months, or maybe a few weeks if everything kept going well—

  No.

  No, this was about today. About no expectations. About fun and food and laughter.

  She dropped her knitting needles and grabbed her phone.

  Screw it. She liked him, he liked her, and if she wanted to text him, she would.

  As her thumbs hovered over the screen, debating if she should send him the nonsensical joke Noah had told her at lunch today about ninjas crossing the road, or if she should simply ask if he was busy, a message popped up.

  Chocolate bacon pizza—yes or no?

  Her thumbs answered for her. Will you marry me?

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered to herself.

  A bark of laughter outside her door answered.

  Sadie lifted her head and sniffed at the door while Pepper tossed aside her knitting needles—one more thing she was proving incredibly inept at—and lunged for the door.

  There he was, tall, dark, and drool-worthy in his red Pepperoni Tony’s jacket, a square pizza box in hand, phone in the other. “Somebody call for a stripper?” His eyes were twinkling, his lips spread in a wide, amused smile.

  “Gran’s not here,” she replied. “You’ll have to strip just for me. While you feed me chocolate bacon pizza.”

  “It’s messy.” He stepped inside and kicked the door shut. “You should probably strip too.”

  “Tony Cross, are you trying to get me naked?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to keep you naked.”

  If you don’t quit feeding me like this, I’m going to balloon up like a house, she’d told him two nights ago after he made an amazing shrimp alfredo.

  He’d snorted, rolled his eyes, and threw her over his shoulder to take her to his bedroom and kiss every last inch of her. And here he was again tonight, still touching her, nuzzling her neck, bringing her dessert—all the desserts—as though she were the sexiest woman on the planet.

  Fun. Food. Laughter.

  With kisses. And his hot hands sliding down her hips. Scents of garlic and onions and yeasty pizza crust, along with something sweet, tickled her nose. She pressed closer to the solid planes of his body, a thrill growing low in her belly where his hard length bulged against her.

  She’d never enjoyed sex for the sheer pleasure of it. It had always been with a purpose, another step in trying out a potential mate. Was he good? Did she enjoy him as much in bed as she did out of bed? Would she want to sleep with him for the rest of her life?

  A month ago, he would’ve been out of contention after their first mishap.

  Now, she wished he’d toss her over his shoulder and carry her up the stairs to have his way with her.

  “Delicious,” he whispered as he pulled out of the kiss. A spark of mischief that he hadn’t had two weeks ago lit his eyes. “Not sure you’re as good as my pizza though.”

  “You lookin’ for a fight, pizza man?”

  “Your eyes turn the prettiest green when you jut your chin out like that.” He bent to ruffle Sadie’s fur and tugged her toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I need an opinion.”

  “Are you riling me up so that I won’t go easy on you?”

  “Depends. Is it working?”

  “Not at all.”

  He laughed again.

  Something was working. Because she couldn’t stop smiling, and she couldn’t let go of his hand either. The man was wiggling into those cracks in her soul, filling them and making her feel whole.

  In the kitchen, he set the box on the table and filled a glass with tap water. She settled into a chair, peeked in the pizza box and discovered two different halves of Tony’s puffy-crusted pizza. One half looked like a s’more had melted over it, with bacon bits sprinkled over the marshmallow, and the other looked like it was smeared with Nutella, then topped with bacon and a drizzle of frosting.

  “What’s the difference?” she asked.

  “One’s going on the menu. One isn’t.”

  He took a seat beside her, his knee brushing hers while he lifted a slice of the Nutella side and held it to her lips. Chocolate and sweetness coated her tongue, with the salty bacon lingering as she chewed. Definitely Nutella. And real bacon. And that delicious brick-oven pizza crust.

  He was marriage material. Without a doubt.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Ohmygod,” she replied.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His shoulders, she realized. His shoulders didn’t ride as high as they had when she’d met him. They were still broad, but not so close to his ears.

  Warmt
h spread in her chest as well as her belly. Had she been good for him the same way he’d been good for her?

  “Scale of one to ten?” he asked.

  “Definitely an eleven.”

  “Your bias is showing, Miss Blue.”

  “If you weren’t so stingy with the bacon,” she added quickly.

  He handed her the water, amusement dancing across his features. “Noted.”

  She took a sip while he lifted a slice of the second kind. “It’s not marshmallow,” he said. “No expectations, just taste.”

  Intriguing.

  He held the pizza to her lips again, his hand resting casually on her knee, and this time, chocolate once again flooded her mouth, along with bacon, and…something creamy.

  “Mmm,” she breathed.

  “Better or worse?”

  “I’m going to have to try both again.”

  He leaned into her and captured her lips, and she giggled while she threaded her fingers through his thick hair and opened her mouth to him.

  So fun. So easy.

  “You’re right,” he said softly against her lips. “We need to try them both again.”

  “Several times,” she breathed.

  His eyes slid closed, and he tilted his forehead against hers. “I needed this,” he whispered.

  This?

  Or her?

  Because she was pretty sure she’d needed him.

  She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to put the fun back in her life. And he was fun in all the best ways.

  “Me too,” she whispered back.

  This wasn’t how she’d pictured her life going, but if she couldn’t have kids, having Tony was a pretty damn good second.

  * * *

  Two hours later, every limb in Tony’s body was sated and happy. Pepper was nestled in his arms, her curvy rear tucked against him, her bare skin warm and flushed in the low light cast by the lamp on her bed stand. Her fingers trailed lightly down his forearm. “I could get used to this,” she said softly.

  So could he. “The food or the company?”

  “Both.” She twisted in his arms until she faced him, and her fingers went to his cheeks. “You should offer both.”

  “At the shop? I didn’t think Bliss was that kind of town.”

  Her sleepy smile set his heart beating a different beat—not racing, not dragging, just…happy.

  “The chocolate bacon pizzas,” she said. “You should offer both for a limited time, and take votes on social media about which one should stay.”

  “You give the best pillow talk.”

  “Would you rather have sweet nothings?”

  “No, it’s hot when you give me business advice.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. He pulled her tight to him by the hips, pressing his once-again growing erection against her soft belly, and the suspicion turned to interest. “You do like it when I talk business to you.”

  “I like it when you talk anything to me,” he said before he could think better of it.

  Her delectable lips spread in a wide smile, a soft light lit her pretty green eyes, and his heart went deeper into its satisfied beat. She closed the distance between their mouths, licking and sucking and teasing, her fingers igniting a trail of need along his arms and chest.

  He could almost pretend he didn’t hear his phone buzzing in his pocket on the floor.

  Nothing good ever came of buzzing.

  Especially when he was losing himself in a woman, all his parts working, his brain on board, his heart almost whole.

  “Is that your phone?” Pepper whispered.

  “Probably a bug.” He grazed his teeth over her shoulder, hands sliding lower to the sweet curve of her rear end.

  “Ssh.” She pushed him back. “Is that my phone?”

  “It’s mine. Ignore it.”

  “It’s been buzzing for five minutes.”

  It had not, but she had that look. That stern librarian of his fantasies look. “You know you’re incredibly sexy when you’re being bossy?”

  “They’ve called at least four times.”

  “If I answer it, will you do that thing with your tongue again?”

  “Tony.”

  Right. Could be something wrong at Pepperoni Tony’s. Four calls was probably worth checking. He rolled off the bed and snagged his pants.

  When he pulled his phone out, the buzzing stopped. His sister’s name flashed over the screen, along with a list of four missed calls.

  From her.

  In the span of half a heartbeat, the worst-case scenarios flashed through his head. His nephew in a car accident. His niece thrown off a horse at one of her riding competitions. Francie with a cancer diagnosis.

  His father with a heart attack.

  The phone immediately rang again, again with Francie’s name popping up. His thumb slipped when he tried to swipe to answer the first time, and he had to swipe again. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Other than having a brother who won’t pick up the phone? Having a brother who still hasn’t sent in his RSVP card for his niece’s wedding.”

  The teasing note in Francie’s voice set his nerves at ease, but her message sparked his irritation instead. “That’s all?”

  “I could add that my children have forgotten your name since you never call, and I’ve had to talk to Louie six times myself this week, but instead, I suppose I’ll let you off at that’s all.”

  He eased back to sit on the floor against the side of the bed. Pepper’s fingers laced through his hair, her short nails giving his scalp a light scratch.

  “Like I told Bella, I’ll be there,” he said begrudgingly to Francie.

  “Alone? Or are you bringing someone?”

  He glanced back at Pepper. She tilted a brow.

  “Put me down for two,” he told his sister.

  “Officially? This counts as sending in your card, and I will hunt you down and end you if you don’t show up.”

  So dramatic. “Officially.”

  “Praise be, the man’s making a commitment.”

  If he didn’t know his sister so well, he might’ve been offended. “You’re hilarious. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Love you, brat.”

  “Love you too, bossy-face.”

  He hung up and let the phone slip through his fingers to the carpet. Pepper’s fingers trailed down his neck. “Everything okay?” she whispered.

  No. No, it wasn’t okay. “Yeah. All good.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  He grunted. “My family’s not quite as awesome as yours.”

  The mattress banged his shoulders. Her hands left his scalp and neck, but came back wrapped around him, her fingers lingering on his chest.

  “I didn’t talk to Basil for three years once,” she said. “I’d just started dating, and he was home from seminary for a little break. My boyfriend and I were going to go to a movie, but Basil answered the door, had a two-minute conversation with him, and the next thing I knew, he was leaving without me. I didn’t have a car, so I couldn’t follow him. He wouldn’t talk to me at school, and finally sent a note through a friend that my family was, quote, fucked up and we were done. As far as I knew, he didn’t date anyone else until after he graduated high school the next spring, and I heard he met his wife his first week in college.”

  “So it’s Basil’s fault you have this little curse?”

  “Yes. Let’s go with that. Always blame the priest.”

  He smiled. “You two get along now?”

  “Sure. A few months before he took Holy Orders, he came to see me and apologized. An apology from Basil is more rare than being struck by lightning and seeing a tyrannosaurus rex on the same day. Just in case you haven’t picked up on why CJ calls him His Holy Obnoxiousness.”

  “You must’ve really liked the guy.”

  “I don’t know if I liked him, or if he fit the mold of what I wanted in a boyfriend. I actually forgave Basil well before the three years was over, but I deserved an ap
ology, and I knew it. Time can wash away a lot, but time passing isn’t the same as everything being right.”

  He gripped her forearm and rubbed her cool skin. “I hate weddings.”

  “For obvious reasons, or…?”

  “When my dad married his mistress, Mom made me go. It was the worst day of my life. Came home and told her I hated her. She made me chocolate chip cookies. Only time I ever got away with giving her lip.”

  Pepper pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Because you picked her.”

  Huh. Hadn’t considered that. “All the men in my family get divorced. And my sisters are all married, but I don’t know that I’d say happily. Except maybe my mom’s later kids. You know how hard it is to sit there on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of someone’s life and wonder how long it’ll be before your niece’s heart is broken?”

  “Maybe her generation will be different.”

  “She’s nineteen. She acts eighty-five, but she’ll always be three to me. Definitely not old enough. Hell, I was in my thirties, and I wasn’t old enough.”

  She dipped her head to rest on his shoulder, hanging over the edge of the bed, still wrapped in covers. “Your divorce wasn’t your fault, Tony.”

  Wasn’t it? He might not have cheated, and he might’ve done everything in his power to make Tabitha happy, but he’d chosen to marry her. Maybe that was where he’d gone wrong. “You only say that because you don’t know my deep dark secrets.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t know about that thing I keep under my bed either.”

  It took every ounce of self-control not to lean over and look. “Can’t be worse than a dead blow-up goat.”

  “You’re trying not to peek under there, aren’t you?”

  He twisted to face her, and her bright, mischief-tinted smile, coupled with the come-hither crook of her finger, topped off with the hint of bare shoulders and breasts, put him solidly back in his own happy zone. “There’s somewhere else I want to peek,” he said.

  Her brow suddenly furrowed. “Why did you need a pretend girlfriend to a wedding you hadn’t committed to going to?”

  Oops. He’d used that, hadn’t he? A rare heat rose up his neck. Because you made me sprout wood had been the answer a few weeks ago. “Just in case.”