He averted his gaze and tossed the key on her lap. “Just take it. I’ll sleep at the shop.”
She seemed to consider that. “You have a bed at your garage?”
“No.” He pressed his foot against on the accelerator. They couldn’t get to Turkey Grove fast enough.
“Then where will you sleep?”
Instead of answering, he made a low guttural sound at the back of his throat. She could decipher the response however she wanted.
His sisters liked to tease him that he was no better than a caveman with his grunts, but he didn’t care. He didn’t feel the need to add to the chaos of endless chatter that was his family. He’d read a study once that said the average person spoke about fifteen thousand words a day. Multiply that by his four sisters and that’s sixty thousand words. Which were often spoken on top of one another. As in, at the same time. Levi figured if there was an average number of words a person could say in a day, then there was probably an average number of words a person could hear in a day. Growing up, it had felt like he’d filled that quota by breakfast. It was no wonder he relished the quiet now that he was an adult and could control his environment.
“I’m not going to kick you out of your own home,” Hayley said firmly.
Levi flexed his fingers over the steering wheel instead of tightening his grip. He’d figured from her telephone call that the librarian could give each and every one of his sisters a run for their money on daily word count. Sometimes he hated when he was proven right.
Not one to argue, he merely turned his head and pinned her with a look. Something on his face made her swallow, the columns of muscles in her elegant throat bobbing. She shifted in her seat as if she were uncomfortable with his direct regard, leaning away from him.
That time, his fingers did tighten around the wheel. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he ground out as he turned his eyes back to the road, not checking to see if she believed him or not.
Likely not. He couldn’t blame her. In appearances alone, she was the size of a woodland sprite and he was the giant troll, which, consequently, always got a bad rap in all the fairy tales. Words weren’t going to reassure her, no matter how many times he reiterated them. Besides, the thought of repeating himself made him want to stop his ears up with some cotton.
With one hand still on the wheel, he leaned over and opened the glove compartment. The multi-tool knife he kept there lay on top. Grabbing the Leatherman, he pulled it out, then gently tossed it onto the librarian’s lap. Maybe having a means of defense in her hands would make her feel safer.
“Do you always throw things at people?” she surprised him by asking.
He ignored the question. “Now that you’re armed with a weapon, maybe you won’t be afraid of me.”
He could feel her scrutiny on his profile. Couldn’t have been able to feel it more even if she’d reached out and traced the outline of his jaw, threading her fingers into his beard. It made the muscles in his back tense and an awareness wash over his skin.
One should not be able to physically feel a look like that. It went against the laws of physics.
Slowly, she reached out and reopened the glovebox, placing the multi-tool back inside, never once removing her gaze from his person. “I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Redding.”
She delivered the pronouncement so simply, as if she were stating a well-known fact, that he actually believed her.
“Levi.” His throat closed around the last syllable, his voice strained. The only times he talked this much were when his family forced themselves on him.
It was utterly exhausting.
She inclined her chin. “I’m not going to kick you out of your own home, Levi. So as long as this is not a one-bed situation, I’ll accept your hospitality in letting me stay with you.”
Maybe other guys wouldn’t know what in the world this woman was pattering on about, but other guys didn’t read as much as Levi did. He didn’t like people, but that aversion was relegated to the real-life specimens. Fictional characters he rather enjoyed. He counted many of them among his closest friends, spending hours of his free time in their presence without a single irritation.
Which is why Levi knew the one-bed trope. A literary device authors used to throw the hero and heroine together in forced proximity, the two often finding themselves with arms and legs wrapped up in each other when the morning dawned.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“No one sleeps in my bed but me.” The thought of having to share such a personal space so closely with someone made the muscle near his temple throb.
“I’m just teasing you, big man. But seriously, thank you for housing me. I promise you won’t even know that I’m there.”
She shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. Especially ones so easily broken as this. Because there was no way on God’s green earth that Levi wouldn’t know every second of every day that this woman was under the same roof as him. She would be everywhere. Her voice echoing down the hall and ringing in his ears. Her scent hanging on every particle of air that he breathed into his lungs. Her presence a ghost that shadowed and haunted him, driving him slowly out of his mind.
But he only had to endure her until one of the roads got cleared. And if the Department of Transportation took their sweet time, he had a winch he could use to help them along.
6
“Shoot. Still no service.” Hayley held her phone up at different angles, scowling at the screen with each change in position.
