Page 86 of Big Dill

“Brody.”

I break the kiss, blinking against the haze of want, to find her wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Someone… knocking at the door.”

My brain stalls, a fleeting mixture of disbelief and frustration. She nudges me with her shoulder. “Someone is at the door.”

I tug off my toque, rake my hands through my hair, trying—and failing—to calm the heat crawling across my body.

“Brody, it’s Derek.” The voice comes from the stoop.

“Oh… shit. Right.” I press a hand against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, trying to tame the wildfire raging inside me.

“Who’s Derek?” Jami whispers, voice low and curious.

“Pizza,” I tell her, trying for casual, and failing spectacularly. “I ordered it before we left the pub.”

“Pizza,” she repeats, almost absentmindedly, the tension in her body relaxing ever so slightly.

“You were hungry,” I simply explain.

Her expression softens. “Brody…” is all she says.

I swing the door open, welcoming the rush of cold. A familiar, cheerful figure stands there, holding the box out. I take it, hand it to Jami, then grab my wallet.

“Sorry to drag you out in the cold.”

“It’s all good, buddy.” Derek looks past me, and sees Jami.

“Hey Jami,” he says. “My girlfriend Amy signed up for your yoga class. She’s trying to get me to go, but trust me, I’d be like a bowling ball with a bunch of pins if I tried to do any of those poses. You’d all go tumbling.”

Jami gives a light laugh. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

I hand Derek a bunch of bills that I don’t even count. “Thanks, dude,” he says and shoves them in his pocket. “You guys have a great night.”

“This town… does pizza delivery?” she mutters under her breath as I close the door.

“Yeah, from the hotel.”

I take in the way Jami is watching me carefully, with eyes that hold warmth and hunger—not necessarily for the pizza, and something tells me this interruption might not have ruined the night.

“That was really…sweet, Brody.”

She nods, and holds the pizza out to me. “Can I go get into something more comfortable?”

“Yeah, I’ll get the plates. Meet me in the kitchen.”

Or better yet, maybe I’ll meet her in the bedroom.

20

Jami

I duck into the bathroom and splash cool water on my face, bracing my hands on the sink as I try to steady more than just my reflection. My pulse. My thoughts. My heart.

Pizza.