Breaking Even (Sterling Shore 5)

I frown as I reach down for a slice of pizza, and then I tilt my head. What if he has put laxatives all over this thing? I wouldn’t put it past him.

“What’s wrong with my car? Other than the smashed rear, obviously.”

He comes to sit down beside me on the couch as the movie starts. An alien movie? Really? That is so not what the box said it was. Batman sounded much, much better.

“Everything,” he grumbles, sounding annoyed.

“You don’t have to stay. It’s obvious you’re cranky. I know you have better things to do than to hang out with me just because my date fell through.”

He glares at me as though I’ve said something wrong. “I’m cranky because you had no brakes, what little bit of oil you had was disgusting, and your tires have wires sticking through the bald slicks. It’s careless and dangerous. Especially when you live right across from a mechanic.”

I bite back a grin when his ugly scowl grows. He’s pretty frigging cute when he’s pissed.

“Sorry. John usually took care of that stuff. It’s about all he was good for. Before that, my dad did it. I just... I didn’t really think about it,” I murmur absently, pulling the piece of pizza up to inspect it a little closer. It looks harmless enough, but I reserve the right to be suspicious, considering Rye is the one who brought it.

When I look back at him, his expression has changed. “Who’s John?”

I shrug at his question, focusing the majority of my attention on my level of courage. To eat the pizza, or not to eat the pizza; that is the question.

“My ex-husband.”

He coughs as he chokes on nothing but air, and I give him a quizzical look while mocking offense.

“Is it so preposterous that someone would marry me?”

He slaps his chest as he tries to catch a clean breath, and it takes a concentrated amount of effort not to laugh at him.

“Just... I didn’t... You’re so young. You’ve been married?”

“I’m no younger than Ash. Hell, she’s younger than I am. I’m twenty-six. We got married right out of high school.” The second he groans, I roll my eyes and add, “Cliché, I know. But everything is romanticized to the nth degree when you’re eighteen. Sometimes people find the real stuff that young. Sometimes they get the watered down generic version. I had the latter of the two.”

He leans back as the movie plays, and I keep the pizza just far enough away to tease my lips. It’s just too risky to take a bite without knowing if he’s done anything to it or not.

“How long ago did it end?” he asks.

I wasn’t expecting him to ask that, and much to my surprise, I grin. “The day I ran all over your car was exactly one year.”

His mouth forms an “O” and he half laughs. “Makes sense. Doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you. I still owe you for the damn air freshener ambush.”

I chuckle lightly while putting the pizza in front of his mouth. “Take a bite.”

“Why?” he asks skeptically, arching an eyebrow at me.

“Because I don’t trust you.”

He thinks about that for a second, tilting his head as though he’s weighing that answer. “Fair enough.” He bites into the pizza, and I breathe out in relief. I’m starving.

“Got anything to drink?” he asks with a mouthful, digging through some of the other choices.

“Beer,” I say with a one-shoulder shrug while standing.

“Beer works.”

After leaving him and grabbing us both a beer, I return to see him eating out of a Chinese carton, his chopsticks holding noodles as he watches the gory movie. While he’s distracted, I eat the bite he has suspended in the air, and he gives me an I-know-you-didn’t-just-do-that look.

“I was about to eat that,” he mutters dryly.

“I know. That’s how I knew it was safe to eat.”