Delivery Girl (Minnesota Ice #1)

“Are you sure? Remember what I told you yesterday—”

“I remember, Andi. I have your name and your number memorized, unfortunately. I know that in the event of a claim, I should not call Mr. Peretti, who is listed on the account. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Good, yes. Very good.” I nod to myself. “Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Tom. We’re not friends, Andi. I’ve gone over this with you.”

“Got it.”

“Goodbye, Andi.”

“Bye, Tom.”

My father pounds on the door. “I don’t care if you have a mustache, I hope you clocked out for this, Andi!”

I close my phone and slide out from behind the door. “Dad, we’ve talked about this. When I’m in the bathroom, you have to leave me alone.”

My dad’s thick black hair stands up like a miniature afro. “I would, except you’re missing a very important call. Until you graduate, you’ve gotta listen to me.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. I am about to start my last semester of school. I’ll graduate this winter, one semester early, with my degree in accounting. My dad reminds me quite often that if I want to work for the family business and live at home while trying to get a foothold in the comedy industry, I need to be in school. Once I get my degree, I can “try that comic thing” with his blessing. If it doesn’t work, I can be an accountant.

“Delivery, Andi!” Angela saves me from this conversation. “You’re gonna love this one.”

I worm around my dad and lean my arms against the counter. “Cool, where to?”

“Los Feliz.”

I shake my head. “Oh, no. No, no, nope.”

Angela gives a fake pout, and then she lifts up a pizza. It has a smiley face. “Say hello to your new lover boy.”

“I’m sick.” I fake a cough. “Can you please, please go for me?”

My dad shakes his head. “Ryan asked for you. Put a smile on your pretty face and deliver the pizza.”

“I don’t have a pretty face,” I moan. “And how do you know his name?”

“Then find one, somewhere,” Mr. Peretti says. “Borrow Angela’s. Smiles wants his pizza.”

My dad has taken to calling Ryan “Smiles”. Earlier this week, when Ryan hadn’t called in for a few days, Papa Peretti cornered me and asked if I’d done anything to upset our number one customer. I didn’t really lie, I just…dodged the question.

“Gotta go, Dad!” I lean against the counter and try one last attempt to persuade Angela. “Please, please, can you make this one delivery for me?”

“You know I don’t do deliveries,” she said. “Plus, I’ve got three pizzas waiting in the oven. No offense, but if I leave you in charge of them, this place will be burned down by the time I get back.”

“That might be true, but at least we could collect insurance money.”

She shrugs. “It won’t be so bad. Drop it on the front steps and play ding-dong ditch. Say it’s a free pizza. He’s tipped enough for ten free pizzas.”

I nod, thinking maybe she has a point. “Yeah, all right. I think I can do that.”

“But if they’re having sex, don’t ring the doorbell. That’s a real mood killer,” Angela says with a serious expression. “That sort of ding dong ain’t welcome in the heat of the moment.”

“Lovely. Your visuals are really out of this world.”

“And if he opens the door in his undies again, take a picture.”

“No, that’s creepy.”

Angela gives me a skeptical expression. “Right, and hiding in his bushes isn’t.”

“What am I supposed to do, whip out my phone, snap a photo, and say gotcha?”

“God, you need to learn how to be sneaky.”

“I’m not a creep! I don’t need these skills.”

“Oh, you’re a creep, you’re just a bad one.” Angela shoves the pizza toward my chest. “Now go before your dad has an aneurysm.”

I grumble and slink out of the store, beginning my half-mile jaunt to the car. I look longingly at the empty company parking space. Maybe I should talk to Ryan about the car. Maybe we could make some sort of deal where I could clean his toilet or rake his leaves for the next three years in order to work off the damage.

There could be worse things in life. I might catch another glimpse of his abs.

Silver lining, folks.





CHAPTER 10

Andi

“What are you doing?” Ryan opens the door to his brother’s home.

I’m bent over, ass in the air as I arrange the perfect smiley face on the pizza, just how Ryan likes it. I was also preparing to ding-dong ditch my dad’s star client, but I’ve been caught in the act, which defeats the whole ditching part.

The note I was writing flaps in the breeze and draws both of our gazes to it. As Ryan’s eyes light with curiosity, I find myself praying an eagle will swoop down and carry it away for me.

“Ryan!” I stand, stretch, and pretend not to be embarrassed. Not that I’m counting, but this is the third time he’s opened the door to find me in a strange position. “How’s it going?”

He leans against the door, this time dressed in washed-out jeans and a half-zip sweater, the kind with soft fabric, a half-collar, and a whole pile of sexiness. He looks relaxed and so freaking sexy I almost squash the pizza as I take a step backward.

“Why’s the pizza on the ground?” His eyes are still focused on the note there and, by the time he looks up, understanding has dawned in his eyes. “You were going to ring the doorbell and leave.”

“Not exactly.”

“You were going to ding-dong ditch me.” Ryan steps over the pizza and moves close enough that I can smell his cologne. “Why?”

It’s delicious, like a pan of warm-baked brownies, and I take a deep inhale. “I would never do something like that.”

“Right.”

“I was trying to put the extra Parmesan cheese packets in the box like you asked for. Angela forgot, and we at Peretti’s like to deliver top-notch service.”

His eyes turn all sparkly, as if he’s amused. The smile curving his lips upward makes my insides tingle. The thought that I made Ryan Pierce smile is like getting all I ever wanted for Christmas. It’s incredible the way he’s looking at me like I’m someone important, someone he might like to be friends with, and I want to say more funny things just to keep that grin on his face.

“Where can I leave a review?” he asks. “Ten stars on a scale of one to five. You’re perfect.”

I’m melting inside like one of those lava cakes. He’s standing barely a foot away from me, hands shoved into his pockets. That sweater is calling my name; it wants my arms inside, wrapped around Ryan’s tapered waist, my head on his chest, that gorgeous smile pressed against my forehead.

“It’s nothing.” I wave a hand, feeling my cheeks redden. “I’m going to head out now. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I have to pay you.”

“Oh, no. This one’s on me. You’ve over-tipped me so much I owe you a pizza.” I thumb over my shoulder. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt, so I’m going to head out, and I’ll—”

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