Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“Mateo! Oh, heavens! How are you? You’re as handsome as ever.”
“This guy has a big head, honey. Don’t give him any reasons to strut like a peacock.” Coach punched my biceps and pulled me in for a gruff, one-armed bro hug. “How ya doin’? Long time no see, kid.”
“You need to eat more pizza, Coach,” I joked.
“You think?” The older man patted his ample belly before gesturing between Rob and me. “What are the chances of two of my guys setting up shop next to each other? I feel like I should be yelling at you to remember curfew.”
“Time flies,” Amber singsonged, flashing a pretty grin my way. “Thanks for coming, Mateo. We’re both glad you made it. Right, Rob?”
“Of course,” Rob replied in a deep, smoky voice.
I slid my gaze toward the big guy standing behind her. As much as I hated to admit it, Rob cleaned up well in a navy sport coat, a blue oxford shirt, and jeans.
“Congratulations,” I said, managing a sincere smile.
Rob tilted his chin in acknowledgment. “Glad you could make it.”
Amber motioned between Rob and me. “I know we all went to college together, but it was ages ago. Sometimes I forget that you and Rob played football together too.”
That wasn’t exactly true. She’d mentioned it a couple of times in passing, but in present company, football was a safe topic.
“These two were the meat and potatoes of the team—offense and defense.” Coach slapped my back and chuckled lightly. “It’s a treat to be able to brag that two of my star players are business owners in town. You’re a great example to a younger generation.”
And with very little prodding, he launched into a trip down memory lane involving a fourth-quarter Hail Mary at a championship game. Not gonna lie, that was one of my best throws ever, but reliving college glory days with a guy who’d taken his career to the next level was a little humbling.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to walk away from Coach without being rude, and the man had always been good to me.
Amber and Mrs. Malveney drifted into another conversation, and just as Coach had settled into storyteller mode, a parent of one of his current players interrupted. Rob and I waved off his apologies, which left us alone to bungle through niceties. Damn.
I was about to step aside and tell him to enjoy his party, but at the last second, I blurted, “What’s your new kitchen like?”
In lieu of a reply, Rob motioned for me to follow him, deftly maneuvering through the press of bodies to the rear of the shop. The brick wall dividing the store from the kitchen provided a nice sound barrier. I could actually hear myself think as as I took in the newly renovated space.
Rob spread his arms wide. “This is where the magic happens.”
I studied the stainless-steel ovens, the large kettle for boiling bagels, the commercial-grade refrigerator, and the ample workspace with a twinge of envy. Wow. It was beautiful.
“Huh. Well, this is really—” I stopped short and pointed at the congested counter. “That’s a fucking pizza bagel.”
Yep, lo and behold, there on a large silver tray were dozens of pizza canapes—sausage, pepperoni, a sprig of basil, feta, goat cheese, pine nuts. They looked gourmet, and damn it, they looked delicious.
“Try one,” he urged.
“No, thanks.”
“C’mon, don’t be a dick.” Rob picked up a pesto, goat cheese, and sausage bagel bite and offered it to me on a napkin.
“I refuse on principle,” I growled. “I told you not to—”
He shoved the bagel bite into my mouth.
The fucking nerve. And you know what was worse? It was delicious.
Of course, that was beside the point.
I glowered as I wiped the corners of my mouth. It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn his gaze followed my tongue with the kind of attention that gave me all the wrong ideas. And what the actual fuck was I thinking? Rob Vilmer was off-limits, all caps. Not only was he most likely straight as an arrow, he was a minor celebrity and…he was a jerk.
“Good, isn’t it?” Rob’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was predatory and dangerous, and damn, that did something for me. All the wrong things.
“It’s edible.”
He barked a laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Cavaretti.”
“Me? First you leave coupons for my customers when you think I’m not looking, and now you’re making fucking pizza bagels. I had it right all along. You’re shamelessly poaching my business!”
“I’m not poaching your business. For fuck’s sake, man. I never intended to make pizza bagels, but—”
“You did. So, congratulations, you’ve just started a pizza war.”
Christ, I sounded like a moron or a child who was pissed at the meanie who’d called dibs on his favorite swing at recess. I hated coming across as a dumb jock to someone who used to know me as being relatively cool under pressure. Now…well, I wasn’t at my best. And I hadn’t been all summer.