Chapter 4
Chapter Four
LEVI
To: Levi Posey
From: Will Wood
Subject: Your List
Don’t fuck this up, Posey.
Aside from regular tasks like social media, retrieving your food, arranging your calendar, and being at your beck and call, here are a few tasks you need to give her this week:
Hand her a copy of a book. I don’t care what book, but give her a copy of it. Tell her you don’t like the font it’s written in, and have her type it out in a different font. Yes, have her type up the entire book, word for word. Tell her you want it in a week for your away trip to the Northeast.
Spill something on your floor. Don’t care what it is. But make it disgusting. Tell her she needs to clean it up and make it seem like it was never there.
Ask her to get you ten pounds of Skittles. The Skittles must be divided into colors and placed in separate jars. But you want more reds than any other color. At least half a jar more.
Have her purchase you fifty number two pencils. Have her sharpen them just enough so they’re pointed but not too much where they’re splintering. Use them as a decoration for a day and then have her donate them to a local school, but she must receive a receipt for the donation.
Text her in the middle of the night that you need something, anything. Make her get it for you.
After each task, I expect you to take a picture and inform me that it’s been completed. Do not let her off the hook. Don’t let her skate by. I want you to make her life a living hell, got it?
And don’t forget the rules. Don’t forget why you’re doing this. And mainly, don’t forget that she’s completely off limits.
Your worst nightmare if you mess this up,
Coach Wood
I sit on the edge of my couch, fully showered, dressed, and ready for the day as I count down the minutes until Wylie arrives.
Sleep was nonexistent last night, and not because the gash above my eye was throbbing, but because I couldn’t fucking believe that Coach Wood’s daughter is the woman I’ve been searching for.
She fucking knew who I was and didn’t say anything.
She played it off like she didn’t even know the sport of hockey existed.
And then just ditched me. Why?
I have so many questions and annoyed emotions over the situation that I’m trying to calm myself before she shows up so I don’t explode on her. I feel like I’ll pace the room angrily at any moment, demanding why she didn’t come looking for me when she knew who I was. I know she enjoyed that kiss.
So why did she bolt?
I push my hand through my hair and stand from the couch.
Get it together, man.
Forget about that night. It’s in the past .
Because now my coach has me by the balls, and one slip-up could cost me. I wouldn’t put it past Coach Wood to fuck with me if I screw this up.
I head toward the kitchen to grab a drink when my phone beeps in my pocket. Maybe it’s Wylie, and she’s changed her mind. Maybe she decided to go back to school rather than be my assistant. All would be right in the world.
Wouldn’t that be fucking great?
I take my phone out of my pocket and see that it’s a text from OC.
OC: So . . . are you going to share with the group how your meeting with the new assistant went?
And this is exactly why you don’t get involved in your friends’ lives because then they think they can treat you the same way.
My buddies, they’re what I like to call incompetent nitwits when it comes to women.
Granted, I’m still learning about OC, but from what I can tell about what’s going on between him and Grace, he’ll fall in the line of incompetency along with the rest.
My phone beeps with more texts.
Here we go . . .
Pacey: Wait, what assistant?
Eli: Coach Wood assigned his daughter to be Posey’s assistant.
Silas: Wait, you didn’t say she would be your assistant, just that she was looking for work.
Eli: Oh yeah, full-blown assistant. And let me tell you, she’s a piece of work.
Pacey: Why don’t I know anything?
Silas: Because you’re always with Winnie. You barely hang out with us now.
Eli: Says the guy who’s always with Ollie.
Halsey: As if you have any room to speak.
Levi: None of you have room to speak, you neglectful assholes. You’re all in happy, loving relationships because of me.
OC: Uh, I’m not happy.
Levi: Don’t worry, I’ll get to you.
Pacey: Back to Coach Wood. Why does he want you to hire his daughter?
Here’s the thing, I could tell my boys exactly what’s going on in my life, let them know that there’s been a girl I’ve been searching high and low for, that I’ve been desperate to find her because of one fucking kiss, and she just so happens to be our coach’s daughter.
And now I have to act like an ass to her because her father wants to prove a point, and somehow I’ve been placed in the middle or . . .
I can tell them that it’s nothing and reveal nothing.
Telling them will lead to constant chatter, relentless text messages, because they’d absolutely LOVE to see me in distress over a woman, and I do not want to subject myself to the impending ridicule.
Therefore, I’m cutting them off.
Yup.
They don’t need to know all the details. It’s for the best. For my sanity.
Levi: She needed some experience, and Coach Wood knows I don’t have an assistant, so he asked if I’d hire her. I said it wasn’t a problem at all, so yeah, I have an assistant now. Please direct all your menial demands to her. Thanks.
Silas: Why is Hornsby saying she’s a piece of work?
Eli: Because she is. I’ve met her through Penny, and she’s just . . . on a different planet.
I didn’t gather that from my impression, but then again, Eli has a child, and maybe said child has sucked all the common sense from him. I’ve heard of that happening.
Maybe that’s why babies look like aliens when they’re fresh from the womb . . . mind suckers.
Pacey: Meaning . . . she’s going to give him a hard time? Because that would be amazing.
Levi: Why would that be amazing? Have I not been an absolute blessing to all of you?
OC: I have yet to witness the blessing personally so . . .
Levi: I said I would get to you. Patience, you fuck.
Halsey: I wouldn’t consider what you did to me a blessing. I could have figured out a way to be with Blakely without all the fanfare.
Eli: And Penny and I would have gotten together either way because Pacey made us live together.
Pacey: And I beg to see how you did anything to get me together with Winnie.
Silas: Not to mention, your texting nearly scared Ollie away.
Levi: Wow, I’ve never seen such a sad bunch of ungrateful motherfuckers in my life.
If I have to recap . . . *clears throat* Pacey, you’re with Winnie because I didn’t make the first move.
You’re welcome. Hornsby, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be texting Penny that you’re eating an apple.
You’re welcome. Taters, don’t even get me fucking started.
The reason you got tit pics from Ollie was because of me, and you know it.
You’re welcome. Holmes, I stepped it up for you, lied, decorated your apartment, and practically placed Blakely on your ginormous dick.
You are fucking welcome. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to train my new assistant. Go back to your happy lives.
OC: Uh . . . what do you want me to do?
Levi: Write me a synopsis of the history between you and Grace. Have it in my locker in a week. If you want happiness, don’t skip out on the details.
With that, I shove my phone in my pocket and pick up the email from Coach Wood that’s on my island counter.
I look over the list a few more times, shaking my head at how stupid this all is.
I’m an easy target for Coach Wood because he knows I’m a people pleaser.
He knows I’ll do just about anything asked of me.
Not to mention, he has me by the balls because sure, he helped me out with that one reporter, but that wasn’t the only night he’s helped me out.
There have been many others when he’s pounded on my door just to get a clinger out of my hotel room.
So yeah, he has me in a rough fucking spot.
I fold the paper in half just as there’s a knock on my door. In a panic, I slip the paper between the pages of one of my coffee table books—get rid of the evidence—and then move to the entryway.
Well, here we fucking go.
Keep it professional.
Don’t stare at her.
Don’t drool.
And keep it together unlike your nimrod friends who have no idea how to act around a woman.
Shoulders back, I open the door and feel my stomach immediately turn warm from the sight of Wylie.
Fuck me, she’s so hot.
The epitome of what I look for in a woman.
Gorgeous face with those steely gray eyes, the lightest smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and she has bow-shaped lips that glisten under the lights of my entryway.
Her dark red hair is silky smooth and long, enticing me to wrap it around my fist to see what kind of hold I can have on her.
And her curvy and sensual body is out of this world.
Today, she’s wearing high-waisted wide-leg jeans, a black shirt tucked into the waist, and a blazer with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
She’s professional but also casual at the same time.
Her hair is down and straightened over her shoulders, and her eyes are highlighted by a thick coat of mascara.
What I wouldn’t give to grab her by the neck, pull her in close, and finish the night we shared.
“Hello, Mr. Posey,” Wylie says, knocking me out of my thoughts. “Is now still good?”
“Yeah,” I say, but don’t invite her in just yet. “But listen, you’ve got to cut it out with that Mr. Posey shit. It makes me feel ancient.”
“Well . . . aren’t you?” She smirks, and goddammit, it takes me back to that night when I was tasting those lips and looking for so much more.