Chapter 9
Well, that had been a certifiable disaster.
I slump in my chair, my spine resting on the carved back of the wooden seat as I stare unseeing at the taco trimmings laid out on the table before me. My ears are ringing from the verbal slap to the face I’ve just taken, and I’m trying to process—
Huh. I think I’m trying to process the list of things I need to process because I haven’t even been able to figure that part out yet. This day has been nothing but a whirlwind of disasters.
I should probably apologize, though. That should probably be number one on the processing list.
I rotate in my seat to peek behind me. I can’t actually see the door to Levi’s room and definitely don’t have Superman’s X-ray vision to see through said door to check on the man, but I stare in that direction anyway because, well, I don’t really know why.
Levi’s upset. Because of me. So, I should apologize.
I nibble on the inside of my bottom lip but make no move to stand, let alone walk down the short hall and knock on his door.
To be honest, I’m kind of afraid to speak to him at this exact moment, even if it’s to ask for his forgiveness.
He’s already bitten my head off. I don’t want to have him chew me up and spit me out too.
I think back to everything I’ve said today, to everything I’ve done.
I’ve never stopped trying to be optimistic and look on the bright side when I had every right to indulge in at least a little bit of complaint.
I’ve never stopped being friendly, replying with sweetness when all I got was sour in return.
I never stopped looking for opportunities or thinking up ways to try to ease the sharp edges of this situation and make Levi more comfortable.
Are those the things he wants me to stop doing? To let up on?
My arms cross over my chest, and now I’m processing in the center of a stew pot. My internal temperature is rising with my indignation.
Now I kind of want to march my heinie down that short hall and pound a fist on his bedroom door and give him a piece of my mind.
He can’t just erupt all over me like he’s Vesuvius and I’m Pompeii.
I’ve been a verifiable delight today. A delight, I tell you!
I don’t know what he has to complain about.
I’m the one who’s had to deal with his surly attitude and inscrutability.
To not let it sting every time he’s immediately wiped at any part of his skin that came in contact with mine or every time he’s flinched for no other reason than because I’ve just been myself.
He’s not the one who has been trying so hard to—
Nooooooo.
I blink, and I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face a second time, my cheeks stinging from reality’s left hook. That can’t be right. That cannot be what I’ve been doing.
Can it?
If my brain had brakes, they would be screeching right now, smoke in plumes billowing from the wheel wells.
That organ in my cranium hits Rewind and then Play (because apparently my brain metaphors convert from cars to VCRs like some kind of knockoff Transformer) and I watch scenes of the day play out like a movie in my mind’s eye.
The immediate crescendo of awareness that built within me the moment Levi stepped out of his tow truck.
I’d chalked up the tingling sensation that ran a marathon up and down my limbs to adrenaline and mentally thanked my body for giving me the boost of chemicals that could give me the strength to lift a car, or in my case, fight off a man the size of a car.
But what if I hadn’t reacted that way because of fear? What if I’d reacted that way because . . .
Oh, for hootenannies’ sake. Have I been slipped a truth serum or something?
I groan and slump farther down in my seat.
Prickles of awareness. Racing heart. Dry mouth. I had never been afraid of Levi Redding, the big oaf. I’ve been attracted to the man from the get-go.
Which also explains why I cared one iota about his reluctance and subsequent distaste of touching me. The rejection stung more than just my feminine pride. Normally, I would have laughed something like that off. Kind of like when a little boy wipes off his mother’s kiss at school drop-off.
Every time he pulled away, I just pushed harder.
I glance behind me toward his room again.
Until I pushed too hard.
It all makes sense. Except that it also really doesn’t.
To be frank, Levi Redding isn’t my type.
Line up my past flings and you’ll see a trend.
David Kinner, Hudson Green, Isaac Bankston .
. . All sweet guys with easygoing natures who liked to flirt and banter and tease.
They all had ready smiles and crinkly laugh lines and aimed to fire a witty retort at anyone who’d verbally spar with them.
They were all tall without being too tall and athletic without being too bulky.
And, most importantly, they all were only looking for a good time.
Someone to pass an evening with. Nothing serious. No commitments.
Levi is the exact opposite of all the men I’ve dated in the past. There is nothing relaxed or casual about him, no carefree air or warmth that draws you in.
I haven’t seen him smile once, much less laugh, and heaven knows I’ve tried to get him to do both.
He glares instead of giving flirty glances, and the man has the communication skills of a Neanderthal.
To top it off, I bet he doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase no strings attached.
So why am I attracted to him? It doesn’t make sense.
I sigh. Logical or not, I’m not going to embody the main character vibes of a heroine who refuses to acknowledge what’s right in front of her face. I can be self-aware enough to admit that I am attracted to Levi for reasons unknown—
He’s ruggedly handsome, my brain interjects helpfully/unhelpfully. He’s got that mountain man, rough-and-tumble protector vibe with hands so large and strong they could—
Okay! I interrupt myself. One reason known.
And his eyes are unlike any you’ve ever seen before. While he closes the rest of himself off, his eyes offer a glimpse to what’s hiding underneath. In their depths you didn’t find even a hint of capriciousness or provocation. They drew you in like—
Fine! I concede. Some reasons known. We can stop listing them now.
The point is, I can admit that I’m attracted to Levi, whether that attraction is logical or not.
Spoiler: It absolutely is not. Furthermore, it is a terrible idea to act on said attraction when the person in question has made it abundantly clear they do not find you similarly appealing, and you are thrust into forced proximity with said person and must rely on their goodwill and hospitality.
And even if that weren’t the case, his serious demeaner is an issue. Even if this spark I feel was reciprocated, I couldn’t let myself go down that road. Not with him. There’s no way he’d be content with casual fun, and there’s no way I can be with anything else. My future—
Nope. Shutting that train of thought down right now.
Okay. Wow, that was a lot of processing. But I’m back to square one again. Back to needing to apologize.
I lift my head and am surprised—even though I shouldn’t be—to see that night has fallen.
A large sliding glass door leads out to the back deck that hangs over the side of the mountain.
It almost looks like I’m in a tree house, the way I’m eye-level with the top branches of the woods surrounding Levi’s house.
Flickers of light in small specks dance in the twilight, reminding me of wood nymphs and lands of fairies.
Reality is far less magical, as the flashes of amber light are coming from a smattering of fireflies no doubt searching for a place to huddle in furrowed bark or underground to survive the winter.
When they reemerge in the spring to search for their mates, their lights will truly dance in a synchronized rhythm that would put any choreographer to shame.
I walk down the hall and pause in front of Levi’s bedroom.
Unlike outside, there isn’t even a speck of light coming from under the door.
It’s dark and quiet. Has he gone to bed and fallen asleep already?
Even though it’s only—I glance at my watch—7:43?
He must have, because the only other alternative is that he’s sitting in there by himself in the dark—not reading or watching TV or listening to music—and that seems unlikely.
I’ll just have to ask for his forgiveness tomorrow.