Page 23 of My Casanova

She smiled, a soft, dreamy look on her face. “Good man who does good things.”

I shook my head and pulled out of Stan’s driveway and steered toward Dani’s place. “You got me wondering what kind of people you’ve had in your life if you think me ordering a pizza for a drunk dude is a good thing.”

She giggled. “Just an asshole ex-husband.” She looked over at me, and her nose wrinkled in that cute way she did when something annoyed her. “And there’s a reason why he’s my ex. He was a sleazy man who slept with the neighbor.”

A slow burn of anger settled in my chest. I tightened my grip on the wheel and forced myself to keep my expression neutral. No use letting her see how much that pissed me off. “Good choice on getting rid of him, angel.”

She nodded smugly. “Darn tootin’. I mean, he did keep all of our friends and the house, but whatever.”

I frowned. “He cheated on you, and he got the house?”

She shrugged as her fingers traced patterns on her thigh. “At the time, I didn’t have a job, so making the house payment wasn’t something I could handle. He did pay me a nice little sum, though. Helped me buy my house now and start up Wine and Cheese Me.”

“So it all worked out in the end,” I said, though it still didn’t sit right with me.

“At the time, it didn’t feel like things were working out, but yeah, I guess now it did.”

I pulled into her driveway and parked in front of her garage. Before I could say anything, she reached for the door handle.

“I can get it from here. I’m not drunk anymore,” she declared confidently.

I knew better. I was out of the car in an instant and rounded the front before she could even get one foot on theground. She blinked up at me, surprised. “Oh, hey there,” she said with a little laugh.

“Hey there,” I replied and watched her attempt to stand. She was moving in slow motion, like she was thinking really hard about how legs were supposed to work.

The second she straightened, her knees wobbled like they were made of Jell-O. She swayed dangerously, and I lunged forward to grab her before she could collapse. She clung to my arm and giggled. “Ope, you know, I might be a little tipsy,” she admitted.

“Yeah, no kidding,” I muttered and steadied her against my side. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you inside before you faceplant into your hydrangeas.”

“You know your flowers,” she teased as I guided her up the short path to her front porch.

“I know enough to keep you from wrecking them,” I said and fished her keys out of my pocket.

She leaned against the porch railing and sighed like she’d just run a marathon. “You have my keys,” she pointed out.

“I do,” I said and unlocked the door. The second I got the door open, I heard a gasp behind me.

“Oh no,” she said, and I turned just in time to see her sway, and her arms flailed dramatically as she tipped backward toward the bushes.

“Shit!” I lunged and wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her forward just before she could disappear into the foliage. Instead of falling into the bushes, she crashed right into my chest with a surprised squeak.

“Wow,” she murmured and looked up at me. “You’re fast. I just was almost tea kettle over ass.” She tipped her head to the side.

“Ass over tea kettle, angel,” I said and bit back a laugh as she gripped my shirt to steady herself. “Let’s try this again. With fewer near-death experiences.”

She beamed up at me, clearly not nearly as concerned as I was. “You saved me, Casanova.”

I sighed and scooped Dani into my arms and carried her inside. “Let’s get you some water, angel. Maybe something greasy, too. And maybe you could stop calling me Casanova.”

“Oh, I stand by that,” she whispered, resting her head against my shoulder. “My Casanova,” she muttered.

I couldn’t help but grin as I nudged the door shut behind us with my foot. The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something floral, like one of those candles women always had around. It was cozy, decorated with mismatched furniture and soft blankets draped over the couch and chairs.

“It’s tiny,” Dani murmured.

I looked down at her. “What?”

“My house,” she explained, her words a little slurred. “It’s tiny.”

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