“Okay.”Pick your fucking battles.“Did you order pizza?”
“No.”
Not really loving this one-word answer bullshit, but seeing her cry right in frontof me has me keeping my thoughts to myself.
“Well, are you gonna?” Maybe if I pretend everything’s fine—or as fine as it can be between us—it magically will be?
“Gonna what?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for patience. “I don’t know, Scarlet. Do any of the above?”
“Working on it, Jackass.”
“Been working on it for the better part of an hour, Scar.” I slip my phone from my pocket. “You know what, I’ll do it.” I pull up the contact for the only pizza place that’ll deliver out here. “What do you want?”
“I said I’ve got it,” she argues, glaring. She’s always so combative, but I’ll damn sure take a sour look over tears. There’s something about a woman crying that just… makes me want to hug her, which freaks me right the fuck out.
Pretty sure she’d claw my eyes out if I tried.
“It’s already ringing, Princess.” I’m lying. I haven’t even hit dial, but she’ll stand here and argue with me until tomorrow. We’re both just stubborn enough to not back down. “So, stop being difficult and tell me what you like on your pizza.”
“You're so damn overbearing.” She crosses her arms over her chest. The move pushes her breasts slightly higher. I’d like to say I don’t look, but I’d be a damn liar.
“I'm only placing the order because you didn't call when you said you were going to.” I force my eyes away from her. “One of us has to be good to their word.”
Embarrassment blooms across her cheeks, and some sick part of me loves knowing how easily I'm able to get to her.
“Whatever.” She huffs as I pretend to rattle off my order—Philly, sub chicken for steak, extra cheese, add bacon thank you very much.“Ham, jalapeno, and pineapple with a side of ranch.”
My eyes damn near bulge out of my head. “Did you just saypineapple?” I spit the word out in disgust, the same way I would if pineapple ever made its way onto my pizza. A foul topping for a foul woman.
“Sure did. Now, be a good boy and order it.” She stalks forward and plucks James out of my arms. “Oh, and since you called, it's your treat.” Her lips curl into a conniving grin. “Thanks.”
Once she’s cleared the room, I actually dial Geno’s and place our order, along with some lava bread and cinnamon pull-aparts. Then I grab each of us a bottle of water from the fridge and join Scarlet and James in the living room.
“Here.” I hold the chilled bottle her way, but she just stares at it. “It's a peace offering, not poison. Damn.”
“Thanks.” She crinkles her nose, but takes the water anyway. “Should probably work on your “peace-offering” game in case you ever trick someone into dating your sorry ass. God knows, you’ll probably spend half the time groveling for forgiveness.”
I’m not sure what pisses me off more—her use of finger quotes when she said peace offering or assuming I’d ever mess up so epically and so often that I’d need to grovel.
“You know, maybe you should focus on yourself,” I murmur, reclaiming my couch cushion as I crack open my water, gulping down half the bottle in one go.
“Meaning?” she asks, but we both know exactly what I’m referring to.
“Your little loverboy.” I cross my arms over my chest, sobering. “Seriously, have you gotten any more notes?”
“Um.” She flexes her fingers before tucking her hands beneath her. “Nothing major.”
“Meaning…”
“Just a note on my car at the grocery store the other day.” She shrugs, trying to act unaffected, but she’s full of shit. She’s terrified, and I can’t say I blame her.
“Thought I told you to tell me if anything else happened.”
“It wasn’t anything major.”
“Scarlet.” I level her with a withering glare. “Someone is stalking you. Do you hear me?Stalking you.And while I don’t personally see the appeal, it’s not okay. It’s not normal or cute or any other bullshit excuse you’ve fed yourself to soften it. The reality is, it’s dangerous.”