Trace set her hand on her chest to steady her breath and popped up to her feet.
“Pizza’s here,” her dad shouted as he began the ascent up the stairs. As if he knew better than to do any surprise visits. It had been a useful habit when Finn had been over in high school.
She dashed over to the top of the stairs, hoping she didn’t look obviously flushed and frustrated.
Smile wide and bright, Jeremy nodded to the black TV screen. “No movie yet? I figured Cole would be half asleep and you’d have one of your foreign films going.”
She rolled her eyes and took the box from him. “Food coma. Too many cookies,” she said with a wink. “Now go have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”
“That’s the magic of having you all grown up. We can stay out as late as we want,” he said, winking back before turning to dash back down.
Trace carted the pizza back to the coffee table.
Moment gone, Cole was bent forward, releasing the Velcro on the walking boot. He groaned as each strap loosened. “Fuck that thing is awful,” he growled. No acknowledgement of what had almost happened.
“I don’t know, walking is probably a good thing,” she answered lightly.
“Maybe.” He winced as he eased it all the way off and propped his foot up on a pillow, far from the pizza. “Sorry if my feet stink.”
She wiggled her bare toes and said, “Ditto.”
He laughed and sat up far enough to flip open the lid of the pizza box. “This, I didn’t miss as much.”
Trace plucked up a slice, the cheese extending the length between her mouth and the box, and dove in for a bite. An olive tumbled off, tiny bits of tomato sprayed everywhere, but it was tasty. “What? This is gourmet,” she said through chipmunk-full cheeks.
He turned his head as he lowered the tip of a slice into his mouth and leaned back to get comfortable. “Naples. That is some damn good pizza.”
“I’ve never been.”
“Then you’ve never lived,” he said, winking playfully.
Well shit. Her bite sunk like a rock into her tummy.
“What? I’m sorry, I was totally kidding,” he said, his teasing smile morphing into a concerned frown.
“I’ve been to France. I was in Paris over the summer,” she said, nodding subtly. “It was lovely.” She sank her teeth into another bite.
“Paris is awesome. I’d totally live there. But I don’t know, there is no place like Foothills.” He thoughtfully chewed another bite, smiling subtly as he seemed to adjust to the subpar pizza. “Your parents said you did some traveling, for school.”
She chewed the endlessly chewy cheese and finally managed to swallow without choking on excess mozzarella. “I did, to France and to Quebec. But, I don’t know, it would be more fun to go with friends I can be silly with.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t have fun?”
“I did, but, okay, the first time I tried escargot, of course, I launched one across the restaurant—by accident—and got giggly as I remembered that scene in Pretty Woman. The people I was with didn’t get the joke, nor did they appreciate my knee-slapping laugh in the middle of the fancy restaurant.”
He laughed and nudged her knee with his. “Damn, I would love to have seen you get the giggles over slippery snails.”
“And there’s this sculpture in the Louvre that looks like she’s taking a selfie. So, naturally, I took a selfie with her.” Trace giggled at her own humor.
Pushing his bite to his cheek, he laughed and shook his head.
She’d sent the pic to her parents, and they’d laughed. “My friends subtly moved on to the next room.”
“We should travel together sometime. I would love to travel for fun, instead of work.”
“We would be good travel buddies,” she said, sitting up straight and stuffing the last bit of crust in her mouth. “SDfsakndflskndf?”
“What?” he asked, laughing as he dropped his crust back into the box and went for his beer.
