Page 64 of If We Never Met

"I said subconsciously, not deliberately."

She frowned as she let out a long breath. "I know what you said, and to be honest, I have questioned my motives. I do have some self-awareness. That's why I stopped digging. But since you're the one who saw Mark fighting with some woman, I feel compelled to do a little more research."

"You're right. I got carried away with my brainstorm. I'm really not qualified to analyze anyone."

"You made some good points," she conceded. "I liked your baseball story, hearing how you got past your fear. Maybe I can do something with that. I guess it's always easier to see through someone else's problems."

"Definitely easier," he admitted, pausing as the doorbell rang. "That must be the pizza." He pulled out his wallet. "I'll get it."

"No. I don't want anyone to see you here. I'll get it, and I already paid online."

"At least, let me do the tip," he said, handing her a ten.

"That's too much."

He shrugged. "We'll make someone's night."

As she left, he blew out a breath, knowing he'd gotten too far into her personal business, but he hadn't been able to stop himself, which was so unusual. But then everything about Keira made him want to be more and do more than he usually did. He'd also needed conversation to distract himself from wanting to kiss her again. Unfortunately, every time they stopped talking, the urge came right back. He probably should leave right after they ate, but he really didn't want to. And he rarely did things he didn't want to do.

Keira checked the peephole before answering the door, relieved to see it was Deke, a nineteen-year-old kid, who had delivered more pizzas to her than she cared to count. Deke was the son of the owner, Marian Dillard, and was currently going to school in Denver.

"Hey, Deke, are you back for the summer?" she asked. "I heard you're loving Denver."

"It has more action than here. What are you doing at this house? Having a party?"

"Waiting for a delivery. It's going to go on the market soon."

"Looks cool. Hey, I saw your picture online. Are you seeing Dante DeAngelis?"

"He's in town rehabbing his shoulder." She gave a more roundabout answer than she wanted to, but it was hard to lie when Dante was sitting in the kitchen.

"I heard. His girlfriend says you broke 'em up."

"You can't believe everything you read online."

"But you know Dante, right? Is he going to be back this season? He's a fantastic pitcher."

"I'm not sure. Sorry." She took the pizza out of his hands and handed him the ten.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes widening when he saw the tip. "Glad I decided to bring this order out. The tourists have been stingy this week. If you see Dante, tell him I'm one of his biggest fans. I can't wait for him to be back on the mound."

"I will."

She took the pizza into the kitchen. Dante looked up from his phone. "That smells good."

"I hope you like it. By the way, our delivery boy said to tell you that he's your biggest fan, and he hopes you'll be back on the mound soon."

"He knew I was here?"

"No, but he saw our photos online, so he thought I might see you." She paused. "Maybe you should move your rental car into the garage. I'm sure the paparazzi know what it looks like, even if the pizza guy didn't."

"Good call."

"I'll open the garage door."

As Dante left the house, she walked into the garage and raised the door. While she was waiting for him, her mind went back to the conversation they'd had before the pizza arrived. She had to admit that Dante's analysis of her problems had struck a nerve. Maybe Hannah's wedding dress wasn't the real issue. Maybe it was about far more than that.

But since she couldn't do anything about the dress at this moment, she'd let that idea sit for a bit. Right now, she just wanted to eat and forget about the rest of the world and the future, even if that future was only an hour from now.

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