Page 23 of Screwing With The Scrooge

“What toppings do you like?” He asks as we park.

“Pepperoni and mushrooms.”

He nods and hops out of the truck.

“Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, smiling as I watch him head inside. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, smiling when I see Maple’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” I answer, and she squeals.

“Ginger told me about you and Xavier! Go girl!” She cheers, and I laugh.

“Thanks. We’re grabbing pizza now and then heading home.”

She sighs dreamily, like that’s her dream date, and I grin. It might be. Maple has always been more of a homebody.

“Have fun. I’ll be at the bakery first thing to hear all about it,” she promises me, and I snort.

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll bring Saffron and Ginger with me.”

“Great,” I laugh, and I know that she’s smiling too.

“See you then.”

“Bye,” I say, ending the call.

Xavier is already paying for the pizza, and a few minutes later, he’s headed my way. He passes me the box, and I breathe in the scent of garlic and tomatoes.

He drives confidently towards our houses, and I study him. He’s so handsome, so strong and capable. That mask that he used to wear has started to slip. In fact, right now, he looks happy and relaxed.

My heart soars at that, and I reach for his hand as he pulls onto our street.

“Your place or mine?” I ask, and he huffs out a laugh.

“How long have you wanted to ask someone that?” He asks, and I blush.

Part of me is surprised that he knows me so well. I’m not sure why. He’s proven a few times now that he’s been paying attention to me.

“A while,” I admit, and he smiles as he turns to me.

“Which would you prefer?”

“Mine. I have to be at the bakery early tomorrow.”

“Your place it is, then.”

We climb out of his truck, and he carries the pizza as we head across the silent street to my little cottage. I unlock the door and let us in.

The air turns thick with tension as he stalks me into the kitchen. He tosses the pizza box onto the counter, and I swallow hard as he approaches me.

“Anything else that you’ve been dying to try?” He whispers against the shell of my ear.

“A few,” I admit.

His lips find mine then, and I let him take over. He grabs my hips, lifting me onto the counter. A thrill runs through me every time that he manhandles me. Next to him, I feel small and dainty.

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