I freeze, close my eyes, and cross my fingers. Is this the power of positive thinking?
Please be pizza.I tiptoe to the door, afraid to ruin this moment before my dreams have a chance to come true.
I don’t even bother looking through the peephole. I want this dream to last as long as possible.
I pull open the door and my mouth drops open. “You’re not pizza.” So why is my mouth watering at the sight of that white v-neck stretching over Ward’s chest?
“I’m not,” Ward says hesitantly. “But I can go get some and come back.”
There’s a handsome man on my doorstep, offering to buy me pizza. I really am in love.
His frown lifts into an almost smirk. “If you keep saying it, I might start believing it.”
My face burns and I lick my lips. “I speak nonsense when I’m hungry.”
“Really?” His left brow raises. “What else do you do?”
Is he flirting right now?
No. That’s not the thought I should be having. The last time he was here, he was ready to strangle me. “Why are you being nice?”
“I…” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I wanted to apologize about the other night.” He looks away as if he can’t deal with his own emotions. “I was rude.”
I can’t help wanting to linger on his embarrassment for a moment. “Rude? You?”
He almost smiles.
It’s almost a win.
“Well, anyway.” He takes another step back and I step forward, not wanting to see him leave. “I’m sorry about how I acted when I saw the video. It’s your right to post what you want. And… yeah.”
He starts to turn.
Think, Lyndi.
“I accept apologies in two ways,” I say, and he freezes, then turns slowly on his heel. I hold up one finger. “With food.”
His dark eyes narrow, and my heart plummets. I’m about ready to retract it when he responds. “Like a date?”
Did he just grimace?
“No!” I cringe and force a laugh. That’s not what I meant, but I’m also not completely opposed to the idea. “Alone. Or together. As friends. Who both need to eat.”
Why do I keep talking? The man just came to apologize, nothing more.
“What’s the other way?” he asks.
I shoot him a smile. “I’ll tell you next time.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” To what again?
“You up for some food?” he says, sticking his hands so deep in his pockets they must be tearing at the seams.
Oh. I was so sure that wasn’t going to work. “Come on, Crew. We’re going to dinner with Ward,” I say before Ward can change his mind.
“Yay!” Crew shouts, streaking through the kitchen. “Can we go to Old McDonald’s?”
