Page 44 of A Pizza My Heart

Shaking my head, I amble down the hallway.

“He’s right, you know.”

Sullivan—or Sully, as he prefers—stands inside his bedroom, staring blankly into the mirror. I eye him, unsure if he’s talking to me or himself.

Sully is…well, odd would be the best way to describe him.

He’s not a bad dude, but he’s definitely different. I’ve been back and staying here less than a month, but so far I’ve only seem him and Winston interact a handful of times, and I have a feeling that’s their usual.

“About?”

“Wren being up at this hour. She’s an early riser, always banging on our door at the ass crack of dawn for random shit.”

This is news to me, because the Wren I know wouldn’t be caught dead awake before 10 AM at the earliest.

But a lot can change in four years.

“I believe you.” I hitch my thumb toward the kitchen. “Just don’t tell that jackass I said so.”

Sully gives me a secret smile then salutes me with two fingers. “Scout’s fucking honor.”

I give him a nod then hit the bathroom. After I’ve finished with my business and brushing my teeth, I grab some poop bags for Mike, and we head out.

I’m a little over a mile into my run, Mike loving being on the shore, crashing through the waves and digging around in the sand, when I finally see someone else on the beach.

I was beginning to worry I was the only weirdo who got up before sunrise to run along the water and see nature at its peak moment.

The figure draws nearer. Mike, being the puppy he still is, takes off when he catches sight of my fellow runner.

“Son of a—”

The runner goes down and Mike thinks it’s playtime, rolling all over them and licking at their face.

I take off at a sprint, racing to get my dog off this poor stranger. He’s harmless, but it’s just poor manners to not stop him.

“Mike!” I grab for his collar, pulling him back. “Sit!” He plops his ass in the sand. “Stay!” He puts his head down, digging himself a nice spot.

I turn toward the runner. They’re cowed down, arms over their face, trying to block out Mike’s assault.

“Shit, I amsosorry. He usually doesn’t do this kind of thing. I swear, he might be big, but he’s still a puppy. Just…”

My rambling fades away when I realize the stranger is laughing.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Unwinding her arms, Wren smiles up at me.

She’s lying at my feet in nothing but a pair of tiny shorts she shouldnotbe wearing out in public and a sports bra.

A fucking sports bra!

Her body is on display, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to strip off her barely there outfit.

Fuck.

“Yeah, Foster, I’m good.”

Her words pull me from my stupor, and I stretch my hand toward her.

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