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Chapter Twenty-Two
Levi
It’s midafternoon when I finally pull myself from the deep coma I was in. Work was fucking brutal last night with several minor accidents, one fatality involving a truck, and even a few water incidents, thanks to the overload of tourists still trying to get the most out of what’s left of their summer vacation.
My head is fuzzy but I can tell instantly where I am. This bed is softer than the one I normally sleep in and carries the scent of a certain woman who gives me more boners than a Penthouse magazine.
And speaking of boners…
In typical guy fashion, I scratch my nuts and gaze around the room, searching for the woman who might be able to help me with my little problem. She left the curtains closed and a glass of water on the nightstand. The apartment is quiet; the only sound is the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the ticking of the clock on the wall, which tells me she’s not back yet from lunch with her family.
Grabbing the glass of water and chugging half of it before hopping up, I head to the bathroom on a mission. Even in here, I’m assaulted with a rich vanilla scent that reminds me solely of her. Smiling, I grab her toothbrush and paste and scrub the grossness off my teeth. It doesn’t even weird me out that I’m using her brush.
The kitchen is clean and tidy, the coffee pot already washed and sitting in the drying rack. I take the glass pot and fill it halfway with water before dumping it in the maker. It’s something I’ve done a million times for her, but for some reason, it feels a little more domesticated now.
There are a few bills stacked up on the counter right next to the place I imagine bending her over and sliding between those luscious ass cheeks. In fact, it was around three o’clock this morning when that naughty little image entered my dirty brain, rendering me completely bone-ified for the next hour. Do you know how hard it is to drive around in an ambulance with another dude when you’re sportin’ wood? Hard. Wood. Get it?
Anyway, I’ve been fighting a raging boner since the early hours of the morning, and there’s only one woman who can satisfy my craving. Snuggling against her this morning was killer, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it. Now, don’t get me wrong, if my girl had wanted a little early morning nookie, I’d have risen to the challenge. But since she was still out cold, I took the opportunity to cuddle in close and pass the hell out.
Her fridge is kinda bare, except a couple of chicken breasts and some veggies she picked up for dinner tonight. I love to grill and I can’t wait to show her a thing or two with those breasts. (The chicken’s, not hers.)
Digging in the fridge, I find that apple butter she loves and some fruit. I’m sure she has something in the cabinet to throw in the toaster. I just need a little something to tide me over until dinner since I missed lunch with her family.
I hear the key in the lock and the door start to open before I can pull my face out of the refrigerator. “Glad you’re back. I’ve got a little problem that only you can take care of,” I quip, smiling at myself, as I think about spreading her out over the counter.
“I’m pretty sure, whatever that problem is, I am the last person you want to assist you.” Turning to face the door, I’m statue-still, mostly naked, and staring straight at Abby’s father, Brian.
“Shit,” I whisper harshly.
“Yeah,” he says, averting his eyes. Apparently, I’m not the only one who realized I’m standing in a pair of boxer briefs with a raging hard-on in his daughter’s kitchen. That pretty much squashes my boner and any future erections I may have for a while.
“Uh, excuse me, sir. Let me grab some…pants.” Hightailing it to Abby’s room, I find the shorts I was wearing when I slipped across the hall around seven this morning and top it with my wadded up, wrinkly tee.
I don’t embarrass easily, but this might not be one of my proudest moments. Realizing that I just propositioned my girl’s father for some afternoon dick-play isn’t one of my finer moments, that’s for sure.
Hanging my head, I make my way back to the front room and find Brian standing pretty much in the same spot I left him in. “Abby forgot her sweater,” he says, setting the white short-sleeved little top on the counter.
“Yeah, she always complains about getting cold in the diner,” I add, scratching the back of my neck.
“She does.”
Awkward silence descends, making this officially the worst impression I could possibly make on a parent of the girl I’m seeing. “So, I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here. In Abby’s place and not my own,” I stammer like an idiot.
“Not really,” he says, making my eyes jump up to his. “Come on, Levi, you and Abby are the only two who haven’t realized that there’s more than friendship building between the two of you. Sure, it started that way, but you’ve been slowly dancing around it for a long time.”
Unable to speak, I just nod.
“Abby met you when she needed you most. Her mom had just died and our family was a mess.” His eyes shine with tears, but he keeps them locked on mine. “It was brutal raising six girls between seventeen and nine, alone. They needed their mom more than anything. Shit, do you know how many nights I begged for the Lord to take me and spare her?” He casts his eyes downward, probably so I won’t see the tears fall, but when he returns them to me, I know that’s not the case. He’s not afraid to cry in front of me. He’s lost in the memory and pain of losing his wife.
“If I can butt into your business for a few moments, it’d be to say this: If you love my daughter, don’t let her go. Show her every day how much she means to you because if you’re not paying attention, it could be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. I lost my love to cancer, Meghan lost hers in a car accident. Those events were going to happen whether we wanted them to or not. What is important is how much we loved while they were alive.
“I’m not saying Abby’s gonna be taken from you or anything like that. My point is love her. For a day, a year, a lifetime, just love her as long as you can. And when the time is right, tell her. Don’t be afraid to say those words because there is nothing greater than the feeling you get when she says it back. By God, son, show her because my little girl deserves the moon and the damn stars. Are you the one to show her?”
Swallowing is difficult, but somehow I get the word out. “Yes.”
Brian smiles at me, a real, genuine smile. “Good. I always thought you were. Even when she dragged home a gangly little ten-year-old boy with skinned up knees and crooked teeth, I knew you were the one,” he says, rendering me speechless all over again.
“You know, Levi, I’ve always thought of you as the son I never had. Trish and I tried and tried again, but it just wasn’t in the cards. You were at our house more than anyone else, and I’m damn proud of the man you’ve become.”
