Page 554 of Devil’s Disciples

I took a few steps. The aroma of Italian food permeated throughout the home. “Oh, wow. That smells good. What is it?”

“Italian.”

I mentally rolled my eyes, set my purse on the sideboard, and walked into the kitchen. Wearing a pair of cut-off sweat shorts, sneakers, and a ribbed tank, Reno was standing at the island peering into a translucent take out container. Beside it, a cardboard pizza box sat. In one hand he held a large plastic fork, in the other, he held a plastic spoon.

I laughed. “You got take out.”

He looked up. “You bitch when I cook.”

I meandered to his side and kissed him. “If you hadn’t rode like a bat out of hell, maybe I’d be the one cooking.”

He checked his watch. “By my watch, it’s going to be starting in thirty-seven minutes. We need to hurry.”

“What’s going to be starting?”

“Meteor shower.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep. This one’s once every seventeen bajillion years or some shit.” He lifted a wad of salad, attempted to put it on a plate, and dropped half of it on the floor.

“Can I help you?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

I sighed. “Please?”

He glanced at the floor, smirked, and then looked at me. “Can I do something nice for once?”

“Fine,” I said. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Use the front one.” He chuckled. “Someone dropped a bomb in this one.”

“Someone?”

“Don’t know who it was,” he responded, slinging salad as he spoke. “It sure smells like shit, though.”

I went to the guest bathroom, washed my hands, and checked myself in the mirror. I looked the same as always, but I now saw myself differently. In Reno’s presence, I was convinced I was beautiful.

He reminded me of it daily.

So much that I now believed him.

I grinned and went back into the kitchen. I looked at the mess on the floor, the mess on the island, and then at Reno.

“I’ll get it when we’re done,” he said.

I sighed. “Okay.”

He handed me a plate and a glass of wine, and then grabbed his. “C’mon. I don’t want to miss it. Supposed to be one shooting star every fourteen seconds or something like that.”

I glanced at my plate. The pizza looked like he’d brought it home in his pocket. I shrugged it off and followed him toward the back door.

We went out onto the deck and took a seat side by side. Facing the sky, Reno lifted a piece of pizza to his mouth and took a large bite. “Amazes me that crap like this happens.”

I took a bite of salad. “Me, too. When does it start?”

He checked his watch. “Twenty-eight minutes.”