Chapter Thirteen

Eve

After redressing in my clothes from last night—embarrassing, by the way—I run my fingers through my wet, tussled hair as best I could, wiped off any makeup remnants beneath my eyes, and held my head up high as I did the walk of shame to John’s kitchen.

He stands up as soon as I round the corner, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Hi. I, uh, left a toothbrush for you on the sink in the bathroom.”

Nodding, I reply, “Be right back.”

I go quickly to the bathroom, grateful he thought to provide a toothbrush for me, and set out to clean my mouth. I feel a thousand times better afterward, despite the fact I’m about to go join his mom and grandma for breakfast.

“Sorry about that,” I greet, reentering the kitchen.

The small table has seating for four, and since there’s only one seat left available, I slip onto the chair. I reach for the glass of orange juice in front of me, pausing the moment I realize three sets of eyes are locked on my every move. John’s mom, Patti, is grinning ear to ear, clearly very excited about this morning’s development, and when I risk a glance over to his grandma, I find her reaction much the same.

I clear my throat, my eyes bouncing around the table like I’m watching a tennis match. “This is awkward,” I mutter, reaching for a slice of bacon and shoving it into my mouth.

“Mom, Grandma, stop staring at her. She’s not a painting on the wall,” John says, placing a heaping scoop of breakfast casserole on his plate.

“I’m just so excited,” Patti gushes, reaching over and placing her hand on top of mine. “You’ve always been my favorite.”

Heat creeps up my neck, burning my cheeks. “Umm, thanks.”

“Mom, stop.”

“Well, she has been. So much better than the last one,” Patti retorts, taking a sip of her coffee. Turning to her mom, she asks, “Remember when we flew out to visit them and she was an hour late picking us up from the airport because she lost track of time shopping?”

Patti’s mom, Glenda, nods. “Of course I do. I had to pee something fierce, but I don’t like using public restrooms like at airports. You just never know what butt sat on the seat before you.”

John groans, dropping his face into his hands. “Can we not talk about butts at the table? We’re supposed to be enjoying breakfast.”

“Fine, fine,” Glenda states, holding up her hands in surrender. We all fill our plates, and I’m taking my first bite when she adds, “So, let’s talk about the fact you two are back together.”

John groans, reaching over and tapping my back as I start to choke on the bite of egg casserole. It goes down slowly, my eyes filling with tears. “You okay?” he asks, handing me my glass of juice.

After taking a quick sip and inhaling sweet oxygen, I reply, “Thank you.”

I look up and find both Patti and Glenda staring at me, smiles on their faces.

“Mom, Grandma, we’re not back together,” John says, and my heart starts to pound. I mean, we haven’t exactly had an opportunity to talk about whatever this is. Are we just neighbors who sleep together? Is this something more? It sure as hell feels bigger than a fling, but it’s not like I can say that right now in front of the gossip twins, chomping at the bit for one tiny detail.

Patti just reaches for her juice and takes a sip. “We’ll just see about that.”

By the time my last client gets up from my chair on Thursday, I’m exhausted. Festive Christmas music plays through the speakers in the salon, but even the likes of Mariah Carey and Pentatonix can’t seem to keep me from yawning. I blame John for my fatigue. We stayed up way too late watching the Home Alone movies, my personal favorites during the holidays.

Not that I don’t like all the sappy romance movies out there, but my go-to is always Home Alone . The original. Nothing beats Macaulay Culkin outsmarting and outwitting those two burglars, and even though I’ve seen the movie a thousand times, I still laugh throughout the whole thing and tear up when he’s reunited with his mom and the rest of his family.

As the last one in the salon, I make sure the Christmas display timer is set properly and all the lights are off, except one in the middle of the salon for security reasons, and lock the front door. My feet ache from standing all day, but this is still the greatest job in the world and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, I wouldn’t mind less appearances from Andrew, but we can’t get everything we want in life, you know?

After making sure the front door is secured, I slip my keys into my purse and head down the street. After only a few steps, I catch the aroma of Italian wafted in the air. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since lunch, and even though my fridge has plenty to choose from, I stop on the sidewalk in front of the pizzeria and take another deep inhale. Decision made, I step inside and proceed to the counter.

“Good evening, Miss Eve. How are you this evening?” Mario, the owner, asks with a pleasant smile.

“I’m good, Mario. You?”

“Couldn’t be better. What can I get you? Are you dining in?”

“No, I think I’m going to take it home. I’m ready to throw on my Christmas pajamas, grab a throw blanket, and burrow into my couch,” I tell him with a chuckle.

He nods. “Well, I have a delivery going out shortly for your street. Why don’t we just drop it off for you, so it’ll be hot when you get home. Then, you don’t have to carry it.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’s only three blocks,” I insist, pulling out some cash.

He waves off my comment. “It’s no problem, Miss Eve. We’re going right down the street.”

“Well, if you don’t mind,” I reply hesitantly.

“Not at all. What would you like?” he asks, pulling out the old-fashioned order pad.

“Medium sausage and mushroom, please.”

“No onions,” he replies, knowing my pizza preferences well.

I stick out my tongue. “No onions.”

He chuckles and types into his cash register. “Sixteen-forty.”

I hand over a twenty and say, “Keep the change, Mario.”

“Thank you, Miss Eve. Go ahead and get in your Christmas jammies. We’ll have your pizza there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Mario. See you soon,” I reply, heading out of the pizzeria and into the cold, winter night.

It doesn’t take long to walk the three blocks to my house, and as I pass John’s sidewalk, I almost turn and head for his door. But he worked a twelve-hour shift today, so I know he’s exhausted too, and we made no plans to hang out tonight. As much as I’d love to grab my jammies and pizza and snuggle up on his couch for the evening, I force my feet to keep walking.

Reaching my front porch, I sigh, finding Biggie sitting beneath my window. He’s staring up at it, longing in his big eyes, as Miss Snowflake meows at him through the window. “Biggie, go home,” I tell him, unlocking my door. I have to block his entrance as he tries to push his way in. “Home, Biggie.”

He seems incredibly annoyed at my instruction, walking back over to the window and sitting in front of it. Shaking my head, I shut the door and slip out of my boots, coat, gloves, and hat. Then, I quickly go to my bedroom to get into my comfortable clothes, and just as I’m returning to the living room, there’s a knock at the front door.

Smiling, I grab some cash from my wallet for a tip and head to the door. Just as I pull it open, a big ball of gray and white shoots through the opening. “Biggie!” I holler, unable to try to grab him, as the pizza man is handing over my box.

“Your cat is huge, Miss Eve,” the high school boy, Victor, says.

“That one’s not my cat. It’s my neighbor’s,” I grumble, turning back just in time to see Biggie chase Miss Snowflake down the hall.

“Ohh, sorry. I thought he was yours,” the young man replies.

“It’s fine. I’ll get him and return him to his rightful owner,” I say, handing over the cash as I take my pizza.

“Thank you, Miss Eve.”

“You’re welcome, Victor. Have a good night.” I close the door, setting my pizza down on the coffee table and heading off to find the mischievous cats. They’re easy to find, of course, thanks to the…noise.

I gasp as I walk into my bedroom and find them going at it a second time. “No! Stop it,” I holler, shielding my eyes from the obscene action. “You’re a bad kitty!”

Swooping in, I grab the fat cat, clearly pissing him off. He wiggles and scratches, catching my hand with his paw. “Jerk,” I grumble. “That wasn’t nice.”

I take him to the front door, carefully juggling the feline and the door, and place him outside. “Go home, Biggie. Stop violating my cat!”

With the slam of the door, I exhale dramatically and wipe my hands on my jammies. I go to the sink, the scent of pizza filling my nose, and wash my hands. Once that’s done, I retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge before taking it into the living room. Miss Snowflake walks out and refuses to look at me as she goes over to the back of the couch and stares out the window.

Clearly, she’s not happy I took away her booty call either.

Grabbing the remote, I quickly find a Christmas movie on television and settle in for dinner. The pizza’s still warm as I lift the lid, steam billowing from the cheesy Italian goodness within. My stomach growls happily as I reach for my first slice.

Only…this isn’t my pizza.

Not only is it not my pizza, there are big nasty onion slices all over it.

“Ugh,” I groan in frustration, closing the lid and cutting off the offending smell that suddenly filled my living room.

Reaching for my phone, I pull it out of my purse and dial. “Mario’s Pizzeria.”

“Hi, Mario, this is Eve Campbell. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think the wrong pizza was delivered to me.”

“Oh, Miss Eve, I’m so sorry,” he replies. “Hold on.” After a few seconds, he comes back on the line. “Yeah, I think Victor switched your box with the other one on your street. It’s going to take him a few minutes to get back here, since he’s delivering to another house now. We’ll start to remake it. Your neighbor hasn’t called yet, but I’m sure he’s not happy either. We’ll make this right.”

My ears perk up. “My neighbor?”

“Yes, Miss Eve. The pizza you have is for a Mr. John Mitchell, address next door to you.”

A small smile ticks across my lips. “Don’t remake the pizza, Mario. It was an easy mistake. I’ll just run this pizza next door to John and collect mine.”

He pauses. “Are you sure? I don’t have any problem remaking your order.”

“No, I’m certain. It won’t take me but a minute to walk next door and switch the boxes.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Thank you, Mario.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Eve. And next time you order, the pie is on me.”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

We hang up, and I quickly slip on my boots. A wave of anticipation races through my veins at the thought of seeing John tonight, even if it’s just a minute while we switch pizzas. I grab the pizza box and head out the door, quickly making my way to the house next door. I raise my hand to knock, wishing I would have taken the time to at least slip my coat on. The door opens, and there stands the most gorgeous man, wearing low-hanging sweatpants and a crewneck sweatshirt. He leans against the doorjamb…

And he’s eating my pizza.

My mouth falls open. “You’re eating my pizza!”

“I’m eating my pizza,” he corrects, his eyes lazily traveling down my body, no doubt taking in my Buddy the Elf pajamas.

“ This is your pizza,” I state, shoving the box toward him.

He looks down at it before meeting my gaze once more. “Wanna come in and have a slice?”

“No. Yes. I mean, I want my pizza. Not this nasty thing you ordered with onions all over it,” I counter, stepping inside and placing his pizza box next to the one on his couch. I open the lid, finding two slices already gone. “You’ve already eaten a quarter of my pizza!”

He shrugs, shutting the door behind him and throwing the lock. As he starts to walk toward me, there’s a silent swagger to his movement, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. “Well, they delivered it to my house, and I was hungry. Not worth calling Mario and causing a ruckus because my pizza had mushrooms on it instead of onions.” He takes a few more steps toward me, eyes on my face the entire time.

“Well, some of us don’t like onions,” I reply, though my breathing is a little uneven by the time I get to the end of my statement.

John is standing directly in front of me. “Did you really come over here for pizza?” He lifts his hand and cups my jaw, gently caressing my bottom lip with his thumb. His sweatpants do nothing to conceal his erection.

“Ummm…”

What was I saying?

Clearing my throat, I give my head a gentle shake. “Your cat. Biggie bullied his way into my house again and had his wicked way with Miss Snowflake.”

A smile spreads across his full lips. “Lucky cat.”

I sigh. Grabbing my pizza box. “I’m hungry.”

His eyes travel down my body. “Me too.” He takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. “Sorry about the pizza. Just a little mix-up.”

I sigh, my arms automatically wrapping around his waist. “Seems to be happening a lot lately.”

“Fate.”

“Or bad luck,” I reason, pressing my chest to his. “You ate my pizza.”

“A little. You can punish me later. After I feed you.” He presses his lips to mine, his tongue slipping inside my mouth. The kiss is short-lived, however, as he releases his hold on me and grabs my pizza box. “Get comfy,” he instructs, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch and setting it on my lap. When that’s in place, he opens my pizza lid and hands me a slice.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a bite.

Pizza just hits differently after a long day of work.

John drops onto the couch beside me, throwing one arm behind my neck. He picks up a slice of his sausage and onion pizza and takes a hearty bite.

“You’re not kissing me with onion breath,” I tell him, taking a smaller bite of my amazing hand-tossed pizza.

He glances my way, takes a huge bite, and obnoxiously chews. Then, before I can react, he drops his pizza back into the box and moves, pulling me into his arms. His mouth crashes into mine, the taste of onions on his tongue evident. “Wanna bet?” he asks, smiling as he kisses me.

“Gross!” I holler, yet my body somehow doesn’t get the memo. My arms wrap around his neck, my own pizza completely forgotten about and dropped in my lap.

“I’m not gross,” he murmurs.

Sighing, I run my fingers through his hair. “You’re not gross, but the onions are. And now my pizza is all over the blanket.”

He kisses the underside of my jaw, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through me. “I’ll buy you another one, since I ate part of yours and then made you drop a slice.”

Pizza completely forgotten about, I shift onto his lap, straddling his erection. He’s rock-hard and pressing exactly where I ache for him. “That’s not necessary.” I kiss his stubbly cheek. “But I do have another way you could make it up to me.”

A wicked grin spreads across his mouth as he rocks his hips. “I’m all ears, beautiful.”

Standing up, I take his hand in my own and wait for him to join me. “How about I show you instead?” We slowly start to move toward his bedroom.

“Best pizza mix-up ever.”