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He frowned at her back. She was acting rather strange. "Need any help?"
"Can you find out what Wiz likes on her pizza?" Erin didn't turn, just spoke louder. "You're okay with pepperoni and cheese, right?"
"Yeah. But Wiz might be fussier. I'll check." He sent Wiz a text, getting a reply immediately. "She says anything is fine, and the classics are best."
"Good. Then I don't need any help. Make yourself at home. I've got this."
"Okay." He knew a dismissal when he heard one and took his bag upstairs. He'd sleep downstairs until Wiz had the install done, but he wouldn't completely kick Erin out of her room. He snorted. He didn't want to kick her out at all. Maybe she'd get in bed first tonight. That would be a dream come true. Followed by a night of no sleep, but who cared? A guy could dream. But that's all it was, an idiot's dream.
Ryan popped off his prosthesis, cleaned it, and inspected his residual arm. Everything looked good. He plodded downstairs. Time for some TV. Although he should work out. And he needed to ask Erin about workout equipment. "Hey, Erin?"
"Yes?" She stirred something red on the stove; maybe homemade pizza sauce.
Wow. She really was the whole enchilada. "Would you mind if I put up a pullup bar in the garage someplace? I can make it easily removable."
"Sure, that's fine." She kept stirring her sauce. "Make it permanent. I'm not sure where to put it, but we can look around and find the right spot tomorrow."
"Great." He sat sideways on the couch so he could watch Erin. He'd work out tomorrow; he wanted to be with her while he could. No matter how futile his longings were.
"Uh, Ryan?"
"Yeah?" He flipped the TV remote in his hand.
"Can I ask a sensitive question? If you don't want to answer, you don't have to." Erin shot him a wrinkled-brow glance.
"Go ahead." There wasn't much he wasn't willing to tell her at this point. He was such a fool.
"How do you do pullups? Can your prosthesis take your weight?"
That question shouldn't make her nervous—it was nothing. "I usually use a strap. I loop it around the bar and stick my residual arm through it, making it the right length so my shoulders are level." He shrugged. "There are prosthetics that strap across the back, and if they're designed right, they can take the weight."
She flashed a smile. "Thanks for telling me. If I ask too many weird questions, please tell me to stop."
He'd answer anything Erin wanted to know, no matter how personal. "I don't mind. Ask what you want. You're not asking to be mean, so it's okay."
"People ask questions to be mean?" Her incredulous look morphed into anger.
"Sometimes. They want to make fun of you or gossip or... doesn’t matter. Those are stupid people." Ryan shrugged once. People could be rude and cruel.
"Extremely stupid. You run into any of those in my shop, tell them to leave and not come back—ever." Fury almost shot sparks from her eyes.
Wow. Only a few people cared so much. Better cool it off, though. Ryan shook his head. "Nah, almost everyone there has been okay. Except old lady Cust, and you already told her where to go." He chuckled.
She grimaced. "Oh, don't remind me. I feel bad being mean to an elderly woman."
He frowned. "No way. She's a nasty old biddy, and she deserved it." Her son deserved worse.
Erin snorted. "She is. Still, I should have a little self-control."
She had the patience of a saint to put up with him. "I think you've got plenty of that. She was asking for it."
"Maybe." Erin shook her head, regret plastered across her face.
Too bad—she'd been amazing. Better than a superhero movie. Ryan's phone chimed. "Wiz says she's almost done. She'll be over in about ten mikes. Should she bring anything?"
"Only if she wants something special to drink. I've got water, iced tea, beer, and wine."
"I'll let her know. I don't think she drinks alcohol. Doesn't like the loss of control."
