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“Levi.” I keep my voice small so as not to startle him. But the lump on his bed doesn’t even shift. If I had time, I’d make bacon and wake him up to breakfast—that’s what years of TV has taught me. Wake a man with food. Bribe a man with food. Love a man with food. Always food. “I brought cookies again. The good kind.”
Inching closer, I take in Levi’s space. There’s a stack of books on his nightstand and clothes strewn across the floor. I think the combined sight of Huck Finn and Levi’s T-shirts make my heart certain it’s in some kind of race—one that it must win.
A chill traces from my head to my toes. I shimmy it out with a shudder and turn my eyes back to the prize. Levi Bailey.
Oh. AshirtlessLevi Bailey.
It’s warm in here. This old house needs air conditioning.
Levi lays still, prostrate on his stomach. Does riding your bike everywhere you go give you insane rhomboids? Enormous rotator cuffs? There are muscles on this man’s back that I didn’t know existed. And I aced Anatomy and Physiology. Like is he a bike shop manager and a pro athlete on the side? Because I’ve never seen another back like his.
Annnd now I’ve been studying Levi’s back for a solid sixty seconds.
Thankfully, he’s like the dead. He has no idea I’ve been gawking at him.
I poke his trapezius muscle, but nothing. And I thought a few measly texts would wake him. How does he get up for work everyday?
Time for drastic measures.
I sit on Levi’s bed—bigger than a twin, but not quite a queen, or maybe he’s just that large. I’m not gentle. Gentle isn’t going to work. Nope, I plop next to him, my hip brushing his arm. He’s facing away from me, but one ear is still exposed. I’m hoping he hasn’t lost his hearing.
I lean on one elbow, resting my arm on Levi’s back, making sure my head is right above his—optimal hearing position. “So, your sister has two mothers? What’s up with that?”
His arms swipe—like bees are attacking him and I leap out of the way. He rolls onto his back and I step one foot back, giving him space. Heavy breaths puff from his lips and his sleepy eyes pop open. “Meredith?” he says, his voice cracked from lack of use.
“Hey, sleepy head.”
Levi squints, his eyes looking me over. “You’re in pants.”
“Yoga pants! We’re going to work out.”
Levi groans, loud and bearish—no wonder Alice calls him Uncle Bear. He snatches the pillow next to him and forces it over his face.
Now I’m just staring at his bare chest—which by the way is just as chiseled as his back. No way he got that on a bike. Who is this man? What does he do in his not-so-spare time?
“What are you doing here?” he grumbles through the shield of the pillow.
I glance at his nightstand clock. 8:39 am. “I’m going to make you some breakfast. Just an FYI, we leave in eight minutes.”
“Leave?” He tosses the pillow across the room.
But I’m already at the door. I’ll find something quick to cook him up. No one needs a hangry Levi in the morning.
18
Levi
Meredith has found the instant oatmeal in the pantry and she’s got two bowls on the table.
“Peaches and cream or maple and brown sugar? Or I brought cookies. We’ve got five minutes.”
“Meredith,” I grumble. “What are you doing here before nine in the morning?”
“Well, I knew you didn’t work today. So, I thought we could go exercise. It’s number eleven on my list. I’ve never had a regular exercise routine. Plus, yoga will help with my balance for the bike.”
I tap the heel of my foot on the cold tile of Mom’s kitchen. “You’ve almost got the bike. You just need time.”
“We both know that I need balance.” She shoves a bowl of maple and brown sugar oatmeal into my hands.
