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When we push apart, both gasping, I meet his gaze. “What was that for?”
He gently smiles and shrugs. “You looked like you needed it.”
I lick my lips, wishing I could taste him again. “I did oryoudid?”
Levi leans in and nibbles against my ear. “Well considering you reciprocated…that’s a question you need to ask yourself.”
His scruff brushes against my neck and goose bumps trail along my skin.
Words escape me as Levi opens the door. Dasher climbs inside, and I follow. After we’re buckled, we take off.
“Are you okay with us heading back to the shop? Just want to let my mom and sister know I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Before coming to Vermont, if anyone had told me considerate, sweet men like Levi still existed, I would’ve called them a liar. But here he is.
The right man at the wrong time.
Once the building comes into view, Levi slows and puts the truck into park.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me with a wink and gets out.
I look at Dasher. “You might be the luckiest dog in the world.”
He blinks at me, almost as if he agrees. Reaching over, I take my glove off and twirl his golden hair between my fingers. He repositions himself until he’s halfway sitting on me.
“You’re ridiculous. But I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” I lift my arms, giving him the space he needs.
Five minutes later, Levi returns. “My mom and sister said you’re welcome to help out any day of the week. Apparently they’re ready to ship me to Seattle and keep you instead.”
I chuckle. “They’re great. Your sister shared all sorts of juicy things about you.”
He looks at me incredulously. “Of course she did. Well…” He hesitates. “Are you going to share with the class?”
I pretend to zip my lips and throw away the key. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Don’t make me march back in there and demand she tell me,” he warns.
“Go for it. Your threats don’t bother nor intimidate me,” I say with a shrug.
“I’ll get it out of you.”
“We’ll see.” I smirk, petting Dasher.
On the way to his house, I reach forward and turn on the radio. Holiday music lightly plays in the background but this time, I don’t immediately change it.
“Oh, this is my favorite song,” he tells me, turning up the volume. “Please Come Home for Christmas”plays, and I look out the window at the piles of snow on the side of the road as Levi sings along. He makes a show out of it, reaching and grabbing my hand. I laugh at his playfulness, enjoying the happiness radiating off him.
“I have a memory of my parents dancing to this song in the living room when we were putting up the tree,” I tell him as the guitar solo starts.
“Mom was laughing so damn hard as Dad spun her around, dipping her, and then kissing her. I thought he’d drop her but he never did.”
“I can almost picture that.”
I nod, listening to him belt out the final chorus.
“I swear, that’s the shortest song of all time,” I say when it ends.
