“This way,” he barked as he turned and strode out of theopen bay. Hayley followed, and when she was outside, he shut the door and locked it. He pivoted wordlessly and stepped onto the worn trail that led up to his house. The incline was a little steep, but the woodsy trail was faster than trekking up the long driveway, which was also fairly steep.
It wasn’t long before Hayley was panting behind him. He slowed his pace. Should he offer her assistance? She’d only begrudgingly accepted his help out of the cab of the truck and then appeared like she’d regretted her choice of taking his hand right after, if her pursed lips and flaring nostrils were any indication. Besides, he still felt the ghost of her touch trapped under his skin. Could he handle the intensity of her proximity again so soon? Probably not.
The back deck of his house came into view first, jutting out over the mountainside and held aloft by thick posts driven into the sloping ground beneath. Camouflaged because of the cedar siding that blended so well with the surrounding woods, his house was a retreat in more ways than one. He liked that it didn’t stand out, wasn’t flashy. That it quietly existed. That if you weren’t looking for it, you might overlook it entirely. In fact, he hoped people did exactly that.
Once they reached the front door, Hayley’s cheeks were infused with color, and a few strands of her bangs were stuck to her forehead with sweat. For the love of all things, she looked even more beautiful in this state, flushed and slightly disheveled, breaths coming out in small bursts past parted lips.
He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. He had no business entertaining such thoughts. They were new and unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome. Hayley wouldn’t thank him for them either. She only needed him to get the bookmobile running again and to provide a place for food and shelter. She didn’t need his unwanted appreciation nor, he’d wager, would she be receptive toward it even if he was so inclined in that direction.
Which he wasn’t.
After retrieving the key he’d given her earlier and unlocking the door, Hayley stepped around him to enter his home. She paused a few paces past the entryway and turned in a slow arc, eyes wide as she took in where he lived. He tried to look at his home from her perspective. He’d picked out the furniture and set the place up with only himself in mind. The couch had the deepest seats that he could find to cradle his long legs, with an ottoman instead of a coffee table for additional length so he could stretch out. The dark gray sectional faced an open hearth of a river rock fireplace, a stack of split logs piled to the side, ready to become a roaring fire. Along the back wall, his books were shelved in handmade bookcases made from the same white oak that could be found in the woods in which his house nestled.
Like a gravitational pull tugged her, Hayley headed straight toward the bookshelves. She stopped in front of the middle bookcase, lifted her hand, and lightly traced the spine of one of the titles, laughing to herself quietly. “He’s oversized and hairy and has his own personal in-home library. You will not fall prey to a Stockholm syndrome trope, Hayley Holt.” She said the command under her breath, to herself.
His sisters had always hated that he could hear even their faintest of whispers, never being able to keep a secret from him. It was a superpower he hadn’t asked for. “You aren’t being held captive, so no need to worry about that happening.”
Hayley whirled around, her cheeks pink now for an entirely different reason. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He turned his back on her apology, as it wasn’t in the least bit necessary. He was big and bearded and had a bit of a beastly personality. And yes, he did have his own personal library. The collection of paperbacks and hardcovers were more than just books; they were his friends and companions. They spent long winter evenings together, and they ensured that he never got lonely, always inviting him along to another world, anotherplace, another time. They didn’t grate on his nerves or make unrealistic demands of him, requiring him to try to contort himself into someone he wasn’t to better fit into their world. Fictional people were more enjoyable than any real ones had ever been to be around.
“The room you’ll be staying in is this way.” Levi led her down a short hall and opened the door opposite his own bedroom.
Hayley stepped into the room and looked around, a small smile on her lips. “Okay, you have to admit this is at least a little likeBeauty and the Beast. You and the enchanted prince both just happen to have a distinctly feminine bedroom waiting for a damsel to occupy? Tell me you can’t see the similarities.”
Levi peered down into her upturned face. “Sisters,” he said simply.
Whereas the rest of his house was set up for his comfort, this one room was arranged with his siblings in mind. The blackout curtains in a pale pink for Aliyah because she liked to sleep in when she visited. The gold-filigreed mirror on the wall by the window for Constance because she preferred putting her makeup on in natural light and there weren’t any windows in the bathroom. The four-poster bed had been purchased because Trinity had always wanted one growing up, but she’d had to be content with a bunkbed and a shared room with Nova. And the reason for the many, many throw pillows that littered the bed was because of that sister. He had no idea why Nova liked throw pillows so much, but she did, so there they were.
Hayley walked into the room and perched herself on top of the ruffled duvet. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. Something told him she wouldn’t be satisfied with his one-word answer.
She rolled her eyes, proving him right. “Are they older or younger?”
“Yes.” He pressed his lips tight to keep them from curvinginto a smile. He only used as many words as were needed to get a point across or to answer a question, but he was learning the monosyllable proved a third purpose—to make Hayley’s brown eyes flash in his direction. He’d never really been the type to tease, not even his sisters, so he wasn’t quite sure why he was doing so now with her.
She narrowed her gaze and studied his face. There was no way she could see the muscle in his cheek twitch under his thick beard as he suppressed a rare grin.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused.
“Maybe.” He turned his face away and peered down the hall. There wasn’t anything there he needed to check on, but the stillness helped settle the buzzing inside him. “I have two older sisters and two younger ones.”
“So, you’re the only boy? Right smack-dab in the middle?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t even pause to take a breath before jumping in with another question. “What was that like growing up?”
His head slowly pivoted until he pinned her with a deadpanned look. He never bothered answering stupid questions.
She laughed out loud. “That fun, huh?”
“Sure. Fun.” More like torture.
Again, he loved his family, but when you were right in the middle of a lineup of five, there wasn’t much room to escape or even take a deep breath amid the madness. He didn’t have the benefit of being the oldest and having even a few years to enjoy a modicum of solitude, nor of being the youngest and finally being able to rest when his siblings flew the coop before him. From the day he was born until the day he’d left home, life never stopped or even slowed down. There was constant ... everything. Noise, contact, the works. His sisters seemed to thrive in the hectic environment and had never wanted him to feel excluded, thus forcing his participation when all he’d wanted was to be left alone.
Levi took in a long inhale and let it out slowly. Sometimes just the reminder of the constant stimulation was enough to cause his muscles to tense.
