He never did.
But now . . . radio silence.
“Shit,” I muttered, grabbing my cell and pulling up DoorDash. I’d order my own damn pizza and garlic bread, and I’d watch a bad movie all on my own.
I didn’t need yummy-smelling, velvet-voice Damon Garcia.
No ma’am.
No—
The doorbell rang.
Since I was in the middle of a huff, I didn’t stop to glance through the window to check who it was, and actually, I was feeling a little off. Not just emotional, but also really tired and cranky.
Though that probably just circled me right back to emotional.
Plus, my boobs hurt.
And also another thing to be cranky about. My period was afoot.
Ah, to be a woman.
Such a joy.
Anyway, I’d already turned the knob and was pulling the door open by the time I’d realized that was a stupid thing to do. “Shit,” I muttered and slammed it shut.
Then I looked out the window.
Then I saw Damon, balancing some pizza boxes.
At which point, I realized he'd seen me acting like an idiot.
Cool.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for the knob, just as the bell rang again. I pulled it open and stood back.
“I thought you were holding last week against me,” he murmured, lips curving up at the edges. “I didn’t want to cancel. I just . . .”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I hurried to say. “And I’m sorry I slammed the door on you. I was distracted and didn’t look through the window.”
“You should be apologizing to the pizza,” he said, holding up the boxes. “Your extra garlic bread almost hit the dirt”—he glanced down at the porch as he stepped inside—“or the concrete, rather.”
“Meh.” I locked up behind him, already feeling better because he was nearby. And no, I wasn’t contemplating that feeling further. I was going to be blissfully ignorant and just pretend my heart hadn’t expanded with joy when I’d seen him there standing outside my door. Good plan, Eden. Can’t backfire at all. “Shut up,” I said under my breath to my ever-spinning mind and then pushed everything extraneous from my thoughts and focused on Damon. And the garlic bread. “That’s what the five-second rule is for.”
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Just tired.”
“Hmm.” He stared at me for a heartbeat then did some nodding of his own before heading into the kitchen. “You do know that the five-second rule is not a thing, right?”
I grinned. “Yes, I do know that,” I said, moving past him as we undertook our usual routine of gathering plates and napkins, pulling beers from the fridge. “I know it because you made me watch that stupid Mythbusters episode three times.”
Damon dished up slices then carried the boxes and plates into the family room. “It sounds like you’ll need to watch it another time if you think it’s so stupid.”
I shuddered, grabbed the beers and napkins. “God, no. It wasn’t stupid. I just objected to the volume of viewing.”
“Volume of viewing?” he asked. “You one of those fancy actors who warm up with those alliteration word games, are you now?”
I sat down on the couch with a sigh. God, I was tired. But it had been a long and trying week with Grant. Though, thankfully, the dailies looked good. Apparently, hate behind the scenes could translate well enough to mimic desire.
A desire to throttle one’s co-star, that was.
“Don’t get me started,” I said. “I’ve been spending my week trying to come up with a better alliteration than ego ejaculating.”
He froze, slice an inch from his mouth. “Um, what?”
I shook my head, took a bite of my own. God, that was good. After I’d chewed, I explained. “He’s like a cat pissing everywhere, marking everyone with his ego, but that’s not an e-word and so . . .”
“Ego ejaculating.”
A shrug. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Damon studied me for a long moment. “That’s not all of it.”
My cheeks went hot. I could feel them burning and knew they’d be bright red. Thanks, karma for making me a redhead. That blush would be flared crimson across my cheeks, staining my chest. Not cute.
Also, making it very obvious when I was lying.
Which Damon knew. So he just lifted an eyebrow, stared, and waited.
“Dammit,” I said on an exasperated huff. “Fine. It started with ejaculating ego and then I added to it.”
“Added what exactly?”
“Eagerly ejaculating ego elucidates earnestly excessive aches.” I stopped then shrugged when I saw his expression had frozen into one of shock. I was in it already, might as well tell him all of it. “I couldn’t think of an e-word for ache, but give me time.”
He was still silent, still frozen, but then his eyes warmed, his lips curled up into a smile and—
He burst into laughter. It was raucous and loud, and it wasn’t his soft voice or his sharp ordering tone or even his teasing intonation that never failed to make me feel lighter inside. This was . . .
I’d delighted him.
And I liked that, too, too much.
But before I could dwell on that for too long, he’d gotten himself under control. “I’ll work on finding a suitable e-word for ache.”
I smiled despite myself. “Shut up and eat your pizza.”
He obliged, taking another bite before talking around the food. “I am eating.” He shoved my plate at me. “Now, you.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said, batting his hand away. “Chew with your mouth closed.”
“Meh,” he said. “We don’t stand on ceremony. Not between us friends.”
Was it just me? Or had he emphasized the word friends? I paused, setting the plate back down, ignoring the way that made me feel. It was this movie. I was just tired from dealing with the Ego and—
“Are you all right?”
I nodded. “Fine. Just tired.”
See? If I said it aloud, it had to be true.
“Well, let’s fuel that very talented actor’s body”—he opened the lid on the box—“with garlic bread.”
My stomach did a funny dip when the smell of garlic hit my nose.
Then I was on my feet, my hand clamped over my mouth.
“Eden?” Damon jumped up, too, reaching for me. “What’s the matter—?”
I brushed him off and ran for the closest bathroom. My knees hit the rug by the toilet, and I . . .
Well, thankfully, I hadn’t eaten much, because it all came up and landed in that white porcelain bowl. Awful. It tasted awful, felt horrible, and the usual relief that came from the after-effects of puking didn’t come.
My stomach still churned.
A hand rested lightly on my back, a wet washcloth in front of my face. “Here,” Damon said.
I got his soft voice again.
And it calmed my stomach in a way the puking hadn’t.
“Thanks,” I murmured, taking it. Shit, I shouldn’t have had that catered lunch. I’d thought the salad had tasted off.
He sat on the edge of the tub. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just a long week.”