by Liz Isaacson
Elle put her hand on Levi’s forearm. “Oh, honey, you’re so much more than friends.” Before he could question her further, she straightened, dumped the ruined lasagna in the sink, and said, “Heather, I can’t wait to tell you about this new, dreamy boy I’m going out with next weekend.”
She dominated the rest of the conversation, for which Levi was grateful. He listened. He laughed. He loved his time with Elle and Heather. As he walked Elle out to her car, she tipped up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
“How’d I do?”
“Great.” Levi looked up into the darkened sky. “Thanks for staying, Elle.”
“Be sure to tell Mom I did,” she said. “She doesn’t believe me when I tell her stuff.” She slid into her car, but Levi held onto the door so she couldn’t close it.
“That’s because you’re going out with dreamy boys, and she doesn’t trust them.”
“You were a dreamy boy once.”
Levi scoffed. “And that’s how I know they can’t be trusted.”
“Marshall’s a good guy.” Elle’s defenses flew into place.
“I’m sure she is.” Levi grinned at her. “Just be careful, okay, Elle? You know how to get in touch with me, and Mom doesn’t have to know.” He understood what it was like to be a Rhodes in this town. The standard was high, and nearly impossible to reach. Serenity had escaped to Dallas and rarely came home.
“Thanks, Levi,” Elle said, closing the door. She quickly rolled the window down. “Oh, and hey. I think Heather likes you too! So, you know.” She grinned and swooped her car around the circle drive and on down the lane.
No, Levi did not know.
He did not know how to deal with his own feelings. Or with the woman waiting for him inside his house. And when Dwayne texted—seriously, the man’s timing was something else—Levi didn’t know what to say to him either.
Chapter Seven
Heather had always believed her mother when she told her that any situation can be managed with the right attitude. “It’s not awkward if you don’t act like it is.” Her mother had said that sentence so many times in junior high that Heather had decided to try it out when Levi re-entered the house. He took an extra minute in the mudroom and entered the kitchen without his cowboy hat.
And no, this situation wasn’t awkward. It was downright charged. Heated. Her desire for him bloomed and expanded until even his super high ceilings couldn’t contain it.
And that was definitely awkward.
“So you got enough to eat?” he asked as he sat on the other end of the couch from her. He exhaled like it had been a very long day and ran his hands through his hair.
Oh, my, how she wanted to do that. Her fingers twitched with the need. “Uh huh,” she said stupidly.
Levi turned his head and looked at her. “So Elle’s a little…eccentric.”
Seizing onto the easy topic, Heather smile. “I like her.” She tilted her head, wondering if that could be considered flirting. “She reminds me a lot of you.”
“Yeah, don’t tell her that,” he said. “She gets mad when people say we look like each other. Yells at me that she doesn’t want to look like a man.”
Heather laughed, the action freeing and thrilling. “I don’t think she looks all that much like you.”
“No?”
She shook her head, carelessly threading the fingers from her good hand through the ends of her hair. Levi’s attention dropped to that point, and satisfaction burned through Heather. He was seeing her. Looking right at her, and not past her or through her like he’d been doing for years.
“She acts like you, though.”
Levi sat up and twisted toward her, his handsome face the picture of perfection when he smiled. His eyes shone like stars and the stubble on his lower jaw called to her. “Oh yeah? In what ways?”
“Oh, you know, how when you don’t know how to answer something, you duck your head and use your cowboy hat to hide your eyes. Elle does that too, but with her hair.”
Levi waved at her and said, “Go on.”
Heather’s arm ached, but she didn’t want to take more painkillers. They made her head fuzzy and her senses slow. She bordered on the edge of consciousness but couldn’t really fall asleep.
“You form your vowels the same. And she likes to talk with her hands too.”
Levi tucked his fingers under his thigh. “I don’t do that.”
Heather giggled. “Only when you talk.” She yawned, her mouth widening before she could stop herself.
“Time for bed.” He heaved himself to his feet. “Wow, I’m tired too.” He sank back to the couch cushions.
“You look different without your cowboy hat.” Heather didn’t want to go to bed, though it was a super comfortable mattress. She didn’t want to be alone quite yet, in this ginormous house that felt like it might swallow her whole.
Levi simply looked at her. Breathed in and out like normal. But electricity crackled in the air between them, and if the spark in his eye was any indication, he certainly felt it.
“This is a big house,” she said, her voice so quiet, the high ceilings swallowed the words.
“Sometimes it feels really small,” Levi said. “And other times absolutely massive.”
“How does it feel right now?” Heather watched him as closely as he was watching her. She saw everything, from the quick double-blink to the way his fingers slowly closed into a fist. She saw his throat move as he swallowed and how he wetted his lips before he spoke.
“Feels big,” he finally said.
“To me too.” She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “So maybe we can just talk until it feels small enough to go to sleep.”
Panic filled his face and he didn’t have his cowboy hat to hide behind. He ducked his head anyway, and when he looked at her again, he’d cleared his emotions from his eyes. “Talking isn’t easy for me.”
“Really?” Heather cocked her head and tried to hear more in his words. “You seem plenty loquacious to me.”
“Loquacious?” Levi chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest and not really coming out of his mouth. “Sometimes, I guess.”
Heather sifted through conversation topics in her mind. His goats. The orchards. How this house came to be. They were all safe ideas, and Levi would probably talk about them. But Heather didn’t want safe, not with him.
“Tell me about Capri Calhoun.”
“Wasn’t interested in Capri.”
“You went out with her several times.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and exhaled. “Takes a while to get to know someone.”
Heather adjusted her ankle into a more comfortable position, taking the moment to find the right thing to say. “That it does. And sometimes, even when we think we know someone, we learn something about them that blows that to pieces.”
“You sound like you have some experience with that.”
Heather tried on a smile, but it crumbled pretty quickly. “Just a little bit.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend with diamonds.” One of her almosts. “What about you? Ever been engaged?”
“Yeah. Yep.” He smacked the P with his lips in a way that made Heather think there was a lot more to that story. Supreme jealousy pulled through her for this faceless, nameless woman who got to wear Levi’s ring.
“And, um….” Levi pressed his lips together. “My fiancé became my wife.” He gazed at her evenly, watching her as closely as she’d examined him.
“Let me guess,” she said, grateful her voice stayed even and semi-flirtatious. “While you lived in Kentucky?”
He nodded slowly, his head barely moving.
“Lucky woman.” Heather wished she had something to sip. Something to hide her face for a few seconds. Something else to focus on.
“She obviously doesn’t think so,” Levi said, leaning back into the couch. He didn’t offer anything else, and the silence settling between them somehow made the house much smaller. Or maybe that was t
he personal things they’d shared.
“The house feels small enough now,” Heather said. “Maybe you could….” She scooted to the edge of the couch, gently lowering her foot to the ground.
Levi sprang into action, scooping her into his arms like she weighed nothing more than a fluffy kitten. He cradled her against his chest, and Heather couldn’t help drawing in a deep breath of his unique scent. Pine, and cologne, and something else she couldn’t name.
Too obvious, she scolded herself, but then she realized he hadn’t taken a single step toward her bedroom.
He gazed down at her, and with his mouth so close, it was impossible for Heather to focus on anything but her fantasies of kissing him.
“I liked talking to you, Heather.”
She wasn’t sure, but had he enunciated the you a little bit? He stepped slowly toward the hall, down it, and around the corner. He set her on the bed and clapped his hands like he’d just done a great amount of work.
“I’d like to make a request,” he said. He looked awkward and too big for this room.
“Sure. About what?”
“No one knows about my marriage in Kentucky. Not even my parents. Elle. Dwayne. No one.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You’re the first person I’ve told, and I’d kinda like to keep it that way.”
“Your family didn’t know you were married?” Heather couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.
“It lasted less than a year, and I—well, I wasn’t really talking to my family at the time.” He cleared his throat and watched her with anxious eyes.
“It’s not my business to tell people about your life,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me. Although….”
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Not my place. Thanks, Levi. Oh, I need a painkiller.”
“I want to know what comes after the although.” He folded his arms, which only made his muscles seem bigger.
“I don’t think you need to keep your marriage a secret. Why haven’t you told your parents?”
“My mother is ultra-traditional.”
“So is mine.” Heather squinted, trying to see inside his head. “Everyone makes mistakes, Levi. Surely your mother understands that.”
His shoulders lifted as he drew in a deep breath. “They know Kentucky was one big mistake. They don’t need to know all the details. So while you’re here, I’d like whatever we talk about within these walls to well, stay within these walls.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Now can I have my pain medication?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He left her sitting on the bed, and Heather took the thirty seconds he was gone to force herself to act natural when he returned. Inside, though, she felt like her nerves had decided to throw a party.
She swallowed the pill and smiled gratefully at Levi. “Thank you, Levi.”
“You’re okay to…?”
“I’ll be okay.” The last thing she needed was to have him offer to help her get dressed for bed. It would take several minutes, but Heather could do it herself.
“Okay,” he echoed one more time. She noticed he kept both hands tucked in his pockets as he left, and Heather laid down on the bed, still in shock that she would be sleeping inside Levi Rhodes’s house.
He was worth any amount of rib pain, and she managed to brush her teeth left-handed, change into pajamas, and get under the lavender quilt in under fifteen minutes, a smile stuck to her face.
Chapter Eight
The following morning, Levi climbed the steps from the backyard to the deck, a scent drifting on the air that didn’t belong. He entered the house to find Heather standing at the stove, stirring something with a rubber spatula.
And the word stirring was generous. Something like stilted flapping would be better. Whatever was in the pan didn’t spill out, so that was something.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a stitch more demanding that he’d have liked. “You shouldn’t be standing up.” He walked around the counter to find her kneeling on one of his dining chairs. “Oh.”
“Scrambled eggs,” she said. “And I did just fine, thank you very much. Left-handed too.” She raised her eyebrows at him as if to say so there.
“Where did you get eggs?” Levi opened the fridge and peered inside but didn’t recognize most of the food sitting on the shelves.
A loud clattering noise made him spin. The rubber spatula and a healthy serving of scrambled eggs steamed from the stovetop and the floor.
“I’ll get it,” he said, reaching to pick up the fallen utensil. He tossed it in the sink and paused.
“You don’t know where your own spoons are, do you?”
“Of course I do.” He opened a drawer and found zipper bags and plastic wrap. “I need one of these for my lunch.” He pulled out a bag and opened another drawer.
Jackpot.
He lifted two forks from the drawer and gave her so there look back to her.
She settled her weight on her good leg and said, “Plates?”
“Plates, yes.” He turned and surveyed the cabinets. He opened the first one and found cups. Then bowls. Then more cups, this time in plastic. Heather giggled, and Levi spun to face her. Her whole face glowed, and that spark of attraction that had first ignited in the hospital room roared to life again. And this time it was much more than a spark.
He chuckled, his face heating with embarrassment. “I don’t know where the plates are.” He opened another cabinet and found a blender. This was getting ridiculous. What would he ever need a blender for?
Finally locating the plates, he pulled two out and set them on the counter. “Why don’t you scoot on over to the table, and I’ll bring you some eggs.” He looked down into the pan, unsure of how to get them out with such a small utensil.
While Heather scraped the chair over to the table, he picked up the pan and tipped some eggs onto a plate, using the fork to guide them. After checking to make sure she wasn’t watching, he repeated the process and took both plates over to the table.
“This is called breakfast.” She picked up her fork and tried to hold it in her left hand. She looked awkward and uncomfortable. A sexy blush crawled into her cheeks, and Levi couldn’t look away.
She managed to get a bite of eggs into her mouth and she met Levi’s eye. He ducked his head, more grateful for his cowboy hat in this moment than any other time.
“So what were you doing outside?” she asked.
“Checking on my goats. I’ve got the vet comin’ out this morning to look at one of them.” Whipp had looked okay, but she moved slower than normal and he’d had to entice her with two fistfuls of vegetables to get her out of the barn.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Heather sounded genuinely sorry too. “What’s wrong with it?”
“She’s probably just old.” Levi took a bite of eggs but his stomach rebelled. “Okay, so I don’t like eggs.” He pushed his plate a couple of inches away from him.
She watched him with an edge in her eyes. “You’re just now learning you don’t like eggs?”
“My mother put out boxes of cereal and went to the gym,” Levi said. “I know how to do that.”
“If you can find the bowls,” she teased.
“I saw some over there. Now the cereal….” He shrugged. “Can’t help you there.”
“How do you stay alive?”
If she only knew how much of a struggle that was, she wouldn’t have asked. Levi opted to shrug again, once again thinking that if he let Heather get even one foot in the door, she’d want to know everything. And dang if he might tell her.
Can’t tell her, he told himself, though he’d already told her more than anyone else. He hadn’t even told Capri about his wife in Kentucky. Or that he’d ever lived in Kentucky.
Heather scanned him from the top of his hat down to his boots, leaning around the corner of the table to do so. He felt like she’d dipped him in liquid lava, and every cell in his body crackled in a way he hadn’t experienced in a lon
g, long time. Maybe ever.
“You seem strapping,” she said. On her next breath, she choked. “I mean—who says strapping anymore?” Her face flamed red, which made her ocean-colored eyes brighter and more beautiful.
No. This is Heather. Your best friend’s little sister.
“I just meant you seem to have plenty of muscles, so you must eat something.”
“Plenty of muscles, huh?”
Her chin drooped toward her chest, and she sighed. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
Levi usually appreciated that, but for some reason he didn’t mind the sound of Heather’s voice. Maybe his house had been silent for too long. Maybe he liked having someone else here. He’d slept better than he had in months, and he supposed he could schedule some time for breakfast every morning if she came with it.
She finished eating in silence, and Levi cleaned up. He’d never existed in such quiet with another person that was so comfortable. He marveled at the calming spirit Heather brought with her.
“I don’t feel like going to church today,” she said. Using her good arm, she swept her hair off her shoulder. She hadn’t showered, but Levi still thought her hair had a healthy shine.
Levi had forgotten that it was even Sunday, though Brighton had mentioned it.
“We can just hang out here,” he said. “Brighton will be here soon, and sometimes I go over to my parents to visit.” He stayed in the kitchen, thinking the dining room table—that sat eight—was too intimate. Maybe if he’d stop thinking about holding Heather’s hand, he’d be able to sit during this conversation.
“I need to do my sub plans,” she said. “You’ll have to drive me over to the school, help me make copies, write some stuff on the board, get things set out.”
“Oh, boy.” He drew in a deep breath. “How long does that take?”
She made a face. “Hours. Honestly, it would be easier for me to go to work.”