His amber eyes catch flame as his minuscule smile drops, all seriousness snapping into place. “Darlin’, I’d love nothing more than to study you for the rest of my life until there’s nothing about you I don’t know.”
I lick my lips, my pulse stuttering. “Th-that’s not very one-day-at-a-time of you,” I say breathlessly, a desperate reminder. Although I’m not quite sure which one of us I’m reminding.
“I disagree.” He stalks toward me slowly. “It’s the very definition of one day at a time. One day and then the next and then the next. Every day. All the days, Hayley. Every single one of them.” His giant palms cup my cheeks, and he tilts my head up, preventing me from tearing my gaze away so I don’t have to witness his heart in his eyes.
“You’re not fighting fair,” I accuse weakly.
His face softens, and he gives me another imperceptible grin. “All’s fair.”
My mind fills in the rest of the saying—in love and war. Because that’s what we’re in, isn’t it? A war—a battle of our hearts—for the chance at love?
My eyes close. I can’t bear to look at him a second longer. It’s too much. It makes mefeeltoo much. Too much hope. Too much despair. Desire, dreams, loss, regret. I’m overwhelmedagain. My heart feels too big for my chest and my skin too tight for my body.
Is this how Levi feels when he reaches his limit?
The thought barely has time to run through my head before Levi’s hands are falling away from my face. His palms pass over my shoulders until they press between my shoulder blades, pulling me into him. My cheek nuzzles the soft fabric of his shirt, and I breathe in the clean scent of him mixed with stringent overtones of engine oil. His arms squeeze, holding me firm and secure against him.
“A little too tight, big guy,” I squeak out like a strangled mouse.
His hold immediately loosens so it’s no longer a vise. “Sorry.” Embarrassment tinges his voice since he obviously doesn’t quite know his own strength.
He keeps me safe in his embrace until I finally start to relax and my mind isn’t being attacked by a thousand thoughts and feelings all at once.
“It’s going to be all right,” Levi tries to assure me.
I lean my head back so I can look up at him. “You can’t know that.” No one can know that. Except God. And unless I’m mistaken, He hasn’t bestowed on either of us the gift of prophecy and shown us our futures.
Levi presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I can and I do.” He looks between my eyes, his forehead wrinkling. “You haven’t read my letter yet, have you.” He says this not as a question, so certain he is of the answer.
“I was interrupted before I could.”
Levi nods, then lets go of me with one arm, his opposite hand tightening his hold on my hip to make sure I don’t get any ideas of stepping away.
Never crossed my mind,big guy.
He reaches into my bag and pulls out his letter. He meets my gaze for a split-second before bending at the knees, shoving his shoulder into my middle, then lifting me up in a fireman’s carry.
I squawk in surprise, my fists reflexively grabbing on to the fabric of his shirt on either side of his waist and holding on for dear life. All the blood rushes to my head, my hair spilling around my ears and curtaining my peripheral vision. All I can see is the slope of his backside and the long length of his strong legs beneath me.
“Levi! What are you doing? Put me down!”
His muscles flex as he walks, my own derrière pointed up at the ceiling and the heat of his palms searing through the thin layer of material of the borrowed leggings I’m wearing. I can feel the imprint of every one of his five fingers along the back of my thighs as he carries me into the living room.
“Faster this way,” he says calmly, like he’s not hauling me around his house like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down!” I demand again.
My body tilts forward, and before I know it, I’m sliding down the front of him. Because of his height and the fact he’s taking his sweet time returning my feet to the ground, I’m hyper aware of each dip and curve and plane of his body. All the blood previously trapped in my head rushes through me, igniting me in an inferno.
I want to hide my face so he can’t see my reaction, but it would be futile, seeing as a pleased smirk is starting to curve behind his beard.
“Your blush makes your freckles stand out even more.” He bends down and kisses my nose, where I know freckles splatter my skin as if a drunken painter had been whipping around a brush filled with brown paint willy-nilly. “It’s adorable.”
I resume the same position that worked so well for me the first time (Yes, that’s sarcasm. No, I don’t know why I think it will be more effective the second time around) and jut my chin out, attempting to glare at him. “That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?” He looks down at me with a faux innocent expression. “Again, I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree. In fact, I think I might find it extremely called-for to carry you around with me everywhere.”
I gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
