Page 6 of All's Fair in Love and Pizza
“Damn it.” I blew a raspberry in faux disappointment and set my hands on my hips.
Unlike her dickhead partner, Amber was cool. She’d introduced herself the day after my initial run-in with Rob and had immediately corrected my assumption that she was his wife or girlfriend.
“No, no. Rob and I are best friends and business partners. That’s all,” Amber had clarified.
Vanni had been happy to hear that. He thought she was cute and nice, and that I was an idiot for making enemies when I could have been angling for a sweet bagel discount. But he had it wrong. I wasn’t looking for a fight. I just wanted to be sure Rob wasn’t inadvertently making trouble for us.
I liked Amber, though.
She was friendly and vivacious, and apparently, the real chef behind the scenes. I assumed that meant she’d have a say regarding pizza bagels, but the one time I alluded to the situation, she’d simply shrugged and said the menu hadn’t been finalized. Then she’d reminded me that we’d been in a couple of classes together at Haverton, and since I had no memory of previously meeting her, I decided it was best to let the subject drop.
After all, Rob was the one who’d made pizza bagels an issue. Not Amber. And not me.
At least, I didn’t think so.
“What are you up to…besides casing the joint and eying our deliveries?” Amber teased, her brow glistening in the summer heat.
“Oh, I just heard a lot of banging and wanted to be sure everything was going okay,” I replied smoothly.
“Sneaky McSneaker! Our grand opening is next month and yes, you’re invited so?—”
“Is he?” Rob asked, slipping outside. He draped a proprietary hand on Amber’s shoulder and flashed a smarmy smile my way.
Amber elbowed his stomach and stepped out of reach. “Behave, cavemen. Rob, is Travis in the store? We need to get these boxes inside, pronto. I almost caught Mateo with his hand in the cookie jar…or the blender.”
I sputtered indignantly. “I—what? I had no intention of?—”
“She’s yankin’ your chain.” Rob snorted as Amber sashayed into the bagel shop.
Oh. Right.
I studied him unabashedly but with an edge of suspicion. I’d learned a long time ago that it was better to go with a semi-menacing glare than to give a straight guy the impression I was checking him out.
News flash: I was totally checking Rob out. He looked fierce as fuck in a battered Cowboys T-shirt and workout shorts that clung to his beefy thighs. I had a thing for thick quads and sculpted biceps. Add the heady scent of aftershave and sweat, and I was two seconds from poppin’ a boner.
For the record,I hated that I found the guy attractive. Hated it. Why couldn’t he look like a troll, for fuck’s sake?
I crossed my arms, tilting my chin toward his shop. “Is this almost finished? My customers shouldn’t have to listen to this banging during lunchtime.”
“You’re right,” he agreed smoothly. “I apologize for the noise. I’ll stop in and offer your customers complimentary bagels to?—”
“The fuck you will,” I intercepted. “You seriously think I’d let you waltz into the pizzeria and poach my customers out from under my nose?”
Rob glared. “See, language like that makes it hard for me to like you.”
“Boo hoo. I’m really gonna lose sleep tonight,” I snarked.
“You’re a grade-A asshole, Cavaretti.”
“Back atcha, Vilmer.”
Rob’s steely glower would have a scared the hell out of most people, but it sent a shiver of something dangerously resembling lust through my veins.
What the actual fuck?
Before I could think of a snappy retort, Rob turned on his heels and paused in the doorway to yell, “Go for it, Jim. It’s not too loud.”
I gritted my teeth hard enough to give myself a migraine. No doubt steam was billowing out of my ears. That freaking jackass. That absolute piece of?—
