Chapter 4
Levi
After finally breaking away from the group of gray-haired women at the diner, I rush back to my aunt and uncle’s house and change into something dry and comfortable, black shorts and a white graphic t-shirt.
Tonight didn’t go well. When I walked in and saw her fidgeting, looking prim and proper in her blouse and pencil skirt, my dick wanted to stand at attention.
She was a vision, like every man’s wet dream, making me wonder if she would let down her walls in the bedroom.
Discovering she was my date gave me hope of at least a good night, but I needed to feel her out first to find her true intentions. I’m not about to let someone take advantage of me while I’m here with my family, even a beautiful woman.
I can’t believe she walked out on me. Sure, I was being an ass, but she obviously wanted to use me like everyone else. Why should I have to put up with that shit?
Maybe coming to Love Canyon was a mistake. I thought being here would give me a reprieve, but that’s obviously not the case if I’m basing my decision on tonight.
The moment I flop down on the gray couch in the living room, I hear my aunt and uncle outside the door. “Just open it,” she insists, her voice muffled.
“What if he’s naked?” he argues.
“It’s open,” I call to halt their dispute.
The door flies open, hitting the backstop and bounces back. My aunt stalks over to me and without a word, smacks me on the back of the head. I flinch, rubbing the back of my head. “Hey! What was that for?”
“What is wrong with you, Levi? You were raised better than that,” Aunt Miranda accuses, glaring at me.
“I didn’t do anything.” That’s not exactly true, but she deserved it.
“You didn’t push sweet Layla so she left before she ate and threw water on you?” she probes, planting her hands on her hips.
“Sweet Layla?” I dare, but she only stands taller, attempting to intimidate me. Heaving a sigh, I throw my hands up in frustration. “She only wanted something from me like everyone else.”
Uncle Steve scoffs, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Layla Romano? If you think that’s true, you clearly weren’t listening to her.”
“You’re on her side too? What has she done to get everyone to have unwavering faith in her while my own family throws me to the wolves?”
“Layla is a nice girl,” he declares, his jaw tight. I smirk, already knowing how much she hates that word, if her reaction when I use it is anything to go by.
“And you’ve turned into a complete fool,” Aunt Miranda mutters under her breath. “To think I spoke so highly of you.”
“I went on a date like you asked and this is what I get? She was trying to manipulate the situation,” I insist, running my fingers through my hair once again.
“And how was she doing that? She didn’t even know who she was being set up with.” Aunt Miranda reminds me, her incredulity clear.
“She wanted me to get her a job. She was talking about how she loves working with athletes, but working at the high school wasn’t ideal–”
My uncle laughs and drops down onto the recliner, leaning back like he’s watching a show, while my aunt shakes her head in disappointment. “I’d think a little harder about that conversation. My guess is you’re not sharing some important details.”
“What more is there to know?” I challenge, not understanding why they’re so adamant. “I’ve had people attempt to manipulate and influence me for their benefit for one reason or another most of my life. I’m pretty sure I know what that looks like.”
“This time you couldn’t be more wrong, Levi.
” Pausing, she sinks down onto the couch at the opposite end and looks at me with empathy, causing me to question myself, albeit briefly.
“I think you’ve been spending too much time with the wrong kind of people.
Apparently, listening to them has inflated your ego to an extreme even when it comes to your family, your common sense, and basic manners. ”
I flinch, but shake my head, refusing to believe it. “Aunt Miranda, come on. Why are you being so hard on me? You weren’t there.”
“You’re right.” She sits a little taller as if about to share something that will get me to change my mind. “But I don’t have to be there to know that if all Layla Romano wanted was help with a job, she would ask her brother.”
“Her brother?” I arch my eyebrow, a sick feeling suddenly twisting my gut while my mind races.
She nods. “Her brother. Gabe Romano.”
My back goes rigid. “From the Mavericks?”
“That’s him,” Uncle Steve chimes in, pointing to me for emphasis, both of them watching me close.
“Shit,” I mutter, replaying the entire conversation in my head. Have I completely lost faith in everyone, and always just assume the worst?
“Now he’s got it.” My uncle grins, satisfied.
“I didn’t know,” I mumble, still shocked. I deserved a lot worse than a glass of water thrown in my face.
“Because you didn’t give her a chance. Layla deserves an apology,” Aunt Miranda insists, her voice firm.
“From the sound of it, she deserves a helluva lot more than that,” Uncle Steve proclaims, chuckling. “Good luck with that.”
Groaning, I push off the couch, irritated at myself. They’re right. I’m an asshole. I should’ve at least been more confident in what my aunt and uncle shared about her. They don’t have any reason to lie to me.
Instead, I went and judged her based on words I twisted to fit my fucked up perception of the people in our world. I run my hand through my hair and drop it to my side. My own disappointment in myself is overwhelming even without the looks they’re both giving me.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
“You are?” Aunt Miranda challenges.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Uncle Steve questions, crossing his arms over his chest.
Without answering, I slip on my shoes, my thoughts already drifting back to Layla.
After one look at her, it was obvious she was beautiful, but I refuse to be around another woman who wants something from me.
Knowing she’s the opposite of that makes her even more gorgeous in my eyes and she was already stunning.
Remembering her bright, wide, doe eyes looking back at me makes my heart race. The innocence shining in them when I threw accusations at her was genuine, but I still glared down at her with contempt.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It’s obvious she doesn’t care who I am, and she won’t put up with bullshit either. Layla’s the exact kind of woman I didn’t think existed anymore, but I would give anything to get to know better.
Yet, I just fucked it up. Damn, I really am an asshole.
Hopefully, she’ll give me a chance to apologize and maybe make it up to her in other fun ways. I swipe my wallet and keys off the coffee table and stride for the door, a plan already forming in my head.
Glancing back, I ask, “So, are you going to tell me where I can find her so I can beg her for forgiveness?”
Their smiles and looks of satisfaction only confirm I’m the one who fucked up and I need to find a way to fix it. “Make sure you do right by her,” Aunt Miranda insists.
Contrite, I nod my head in acceptance. Hopefully she’s as nice as everyone claims when she sees my candid regret.