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"There's an oven out there?" Erin's place was amazing.
"Yes. It's too hot to turn the one on in here."
"Cool. I'll be right down." Blast, he really wanted to take this thing off. He dithered, but she'd been okay with the arm so far. Regardless, his shoulders hunched, and he rotated them. "Hey, Erin."
"Yeah?" She turned on her toe.
"Uh... there's no easy way to ask this..." She raised her brows. "Do you care if I leave off my prosthesis?"
"No, of course not! I imagine it starts to hurt after a while. Do whatever you need to do, Ryan. I don't care what you wear or don't wear." She wrinkled her nose again, looked away, and blushed. "As long as you wear a pair of shorts, anyway. I don’t need to see you naked."
Ryan laughed, but at himself. He’d like to see her naked, but that wasn’t going to happen. "How many of those beers did you drink?"
She glared, but it was adorable. "I'm still working on the first one, thank you very much. Just thought I'd be clear." Erin turned to the fridge.
Ryan escaped up the stairs before he could make a bigger fool of himself. Three doors opened off the small landing, displaying two smaller rooms, one set up as an office, one as a guest bedroom, and a standard bathroom. It was a lot warmer upstairs—good thing he was sleeping downstairs.
He dropped his bag on the guest bed, took his prosthetic off, and cleaned the socket. Ah. Fortunately, his residual arm didn't have any blisters or sores. Bouncing down the stairs, he joined Erin on the patio. She turned away from the outdoor fireplace and pointed at the loungers. He took the one farthest from the oven, figuring the closest was hers. A frosty glass of beer waited on the small table between. He assumed it was his, since she had one in her hand. A dining set sat in the middle of the patio, a stack of plates and utensils waiting on the tile-top table.
He sat, a little hesitant to let his residual arm hang next to her. But from the placement of the glass, she had claimed the other lounger. He tasted the beer—light, crisp, with a slightly lemony tang. "That's perfect, thanks."
"Yeah. One of the local breweries. I like all of their stuff, but this summer ale is particularly good when it's hot." She sipped, savoring and then swallowing.
Ryan forced his eyes off her long neck and looked around the patio. "This is a really nice place, Erin. And it's pretty quiet for being so close to the highway."
"We designed it that way." One corner of her mouth turned up, the other down. "The garage and house are angled to deflect the sound waves. It's not perfect, but it helps. The house is foam insulated, too, which also keeps the noise down, along with keeping it warm in the winter and cool in the summer. But in summer, I have to leave all the windows open at night, so I get a good cross-flow." Erin shrugged. "No air conditioner."
"You probably don't need it ninety-five percent of the time."
"True. And suffering through those few sultry nights is better than spending tons of money on air conditioning I don't need."
A high-pitched beeping made him wince. Erin crossed to the fireplace and hit a button on the timer perched on a high wood mantle. She opened the small compartment door, set above the empty open firebox, blue flames hissing away. Before he could ask, she explained, "The main fireplace burns wood, but the oven burns propane. It's faster and easier than lighting a fire, letting it burn down, cleaning the stone, and then, finally, baking." With a wide, long-handled board, she scooped the pizza out of the oven, slid it on the cutting board at the edge of the table, and transferred a second pizza to the paddle, putting it into the oven with a sharp jerk of her arm. She reset the timer and sliced the pizza, sliding it on plates and bringing both over. The sizzle of hot cheese and the toasty scent of baking bread preceded her.
Ryan's stomach rumbled. He reached up and took the plate from her. "Thanks. This looks excellent. And homemade." He put the plate on his lap and picked up a slice.
"It is homemade. The dough stays in the fridge, so I've got some whenever I want it." She sat on the other lounger.
"That's an outstanding idea." He took a bite and chewed. Delicious. "You're going to regret feeding me."
Erin regarded him with a small crease between her brows. "Why? I like having someone to eat with."
"Yeah, but this is so good, I'll be over here all the time." He smirked. "I eat a lot." Ryan took another bite. So good. Almost good enough to get my mind off of you.
"You won't bug me, and if you do, I'll tell you." She chuckled.
"Deal. This is really, really good."
"Thanks."
They ate in silence for a while. They'd probably both built up an appetite with the furniture moving. And all the drama. Erin pulled the second pizza out, cut it, and gave him most of it. "Save some for yourself. You're the one doing the cooking."
"Nah, I usually eat only part of one." She put a third pizza in and refilled his glass from the growler on the table.
He smiled at her, thankful. "You don't have to wait on me."
"I know. But I know where everything is, and you don't."
"But I do now, so I can serve you next time." Food, nothing else, idiot. A strong, independent woman like Erin didn't need a damaged guy like him. Ryan ate most of the third pizza too, then sat back, stomach content. A loud burp rolled up and out. Crap. His cheeks burned. "Sorry."
