Jack cringed.
“If it’s any consolation I have a red ring around my backside from where I was stuck in the chair.”
“That does make me feel slightly better,” she said. “But only slightly. Definitely not enough to have dinner with you.”
He flinched. Dinner sounded date-like and this wasn’t a date. Nothing like a date at all. No siree.
“Come on,” he said. “You look hungry. Let me feed you. I feel bad about the car. I didn’t mean to trash it.”
That was the
thing. Consciously, he wouldn’t have damaged it. But he was beginning to wonder if his subconscious had wanted to kill the car. He shook his head. Obviously three visits to the shrink was three too many – now he was analysing himself.
“I’m sure it’s fixable.” He looked at the wreck – he was pretty sure it was scrap metal. “I know a guy. I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”
She folded her arms over a delicate grey sweater that looked like it was made of fine baby wool. He had a sudden urge to rub his cheek against it and see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Okay,” he said instead. “So, how about a truce?”
He waved the boxes in front of her.
“I got stuffed crust and extra cheese.”
She bit her lip as she eyed the box. He could tell that she wanted the pizza, but she still wanted to be mad at him too.
“I was planning an early night.”
“It’s only seven. We’ll eat fast and you can still get to bed early.”
Her eyes strayed to the squished marshmallow of a car.
“I’ll fix everything tomorrow,” he said. “In the meantime you can hit me again if it makes you feel better. Although, not on the head. Two concussions a week is my limit.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Jack let out a sigh. He didn’t know why it was so important to make peace with Crazy Davy, but it was and seeing a smile made him feel like he’d won the lottery.
“It’s just food, Davy.”
“It’s been a helluva day, Jack, and I don’t have the energy to spar with you.”
She was definitely wavering.
“We have a truce, remember? No talk of the house or inspection for the duration of dinner.”
“No trying to destroy my things?” she said.
“Absolutely,” he said solemnly.
“I don’t know.” She rubbed a foot on the carpet, making the hand knitted sock bobble. “You take a lot of energy and I’m totally knackered.”
He knew the feeling.
“Just food. Cross my heart.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“Fine, but we eat out here. I’m not letting you worm your way into the house.”
Jack grinned at his victory. Then her words sank in.