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I still whispered, “Right.”
    “Second, I pay.”
    “But –” I started and his arms gave me a squeeze, his face growing serious.
    “Women don’t buy with me,” he said quietly. “I get it, women’s lib and all, got no problem with that. But you’re with me, I pay. No discussion, definitely no stupid-ass fight. That’s just the way it is with me.”
    Women’s lib and all. That was funny.
    That’ s just the way it is with me. That wasn’t funny. I liked that. A whole lot. The best part was that it intimated it was about more than just one-time pizza.
    Still, there was a debt to be paid.
    “So how do I pay you back for three mind-boggling orgasms?” I asked.
    His face changed but he didn’t answer. This was because the way his face changed was the answer.
    An answer I liked. It was sexy as all hell.
    And it also intimated this was more than one-time sex after a funeral.
    “Okay then, we’re good,” I muttered through another grin, his arms gave me another squeeze, his lips did another twitch then he muttered back, “Reach out and get my jacket, honey.”
    I slid off him, scooted to the edge of the bed, reached out and grabbed his suit jacket. I lifted it up, pulled the covers up my back and rolled under them toward him, bringing his jacket with me. I gave it to him, he fished his cell out of the inside pocket then he threw it over me and back on the floor.
    I rolled into him as he pressed buttons on the phone.
    “What do you like on it?” he asked, eyes to the phone.
    “Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onions, peppers, olives, ham or any combination of the above.”
    His eyes went from his phone to me, “Pineapple?”
    My lip curled as my nose scrunched and I didn’t try to stop it. Then again, I never tried to stop it. I was me. I thought what I thought. I liked what I liked. And I didn’t hide much of anything. Life was exhausting enough with all the ups and downs and bullshit people kept trying to feed you. Expending that kind of effort for essentially no purpose seemed a ridiculous waste of energy.
    “I’ll take that as a no,” Mike murmured and I stopped scrunching my nose and smiled at him again.
    “That’s a resounding no,” I clarified.
    He smiled back then asked, “Meat lovers?”
    “Sounds good to me.”
    He pressed a button on his phone then put it to his ear.
    “I approve,” I stated, shifting my body deeper into his, his arm immediately moved around me and I liked that too. “Reggie’s on speed dial,” I finished.
    “Got two kids, only way it could be,” he muttered then, “Toby? Yeah, Mike Haines. I’m ordering a large meat lovers for pickup.”
    He continued to order and my thoughts turned to the fact he had two kids.
    I knew that. Darrin told me. Darrin also told me Mike was divorced. Darrin had called the minute he heard. Darrin, until four days ago when he died, had delusions that he could wring a miracle. That miracle being that Mike Haines would put his ring on my finger thus bringing me back to The ‘Burg so I would be in the bosom of my family. Better yet, that I would be in the bed of a decent man who wouldn’t work my last nerve and Darrin could quit worrying about me. Therefore, Darrin had been generous with his information that it was known throughout town that Mike’s ex was a total bitch. Also that she treated him like shit. And further that Mike was roundly liked so it took effort to stop the town council from organizing a parade when the divorce was final.
    What I got out of this was that it sucked a good guy like Mike got caught up with a woman who treated him like shit. I also wondered how good women like me, and I hoped I was a decent person or at least I tried to be, found myself losers and good guys like Mike found bitches and people like us never found each other.
    The way of the world.
    Until, of course, on the day of your brother’s funeral, you found yourself naked in bed with a good guy who was fucking great at sex, had awesome hometown