The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(61)
A rock she’d kept for almost twenty years.
There was an odd pressure in his chest.
“You want to watch TV?” he asked, clearing her plate.
“Sure. Maybe a movie? Netflix came today.”
“What have you got?”
“A zombie movie. Supposed to be very gory.”
He glanced at her, surprised.
“What?” she said. “They can’t all be romantic comedies.”
If Levi wasn’t mistaken, Netflix had just sent a very gory zombie movie to his mailbox today. “Sounds good,” he said, tidying the kitchen.
“You’d make a great housekeeper,” she commented, settling onto the couch with her blanket.
“In addition to babysitter and chef, you mean?”
“Exactly.” She smiled at him again as he sat in the blue chair, feeling a little awkward, at least at first. But Faith was a movie talker, it turned out, and didn’t need him to carry on an entire conversation. “That girl only looks dead. Ten bucks she bites the cute cop. And there you go. Ten bucks, Levi. Oh, come on now. He’s hiding under the bed? Has he never seen a horror flick? They always find you there.”
And as the sleet pattered against the windows, eventually changing to rain, and as the zombies killed everyone in great sprays of blood and fire, Levi couldn’t help thinking this was one of the best nights he’d had in a long time.
* * *
WHEN FAITH WOKE UP in the morning, Blue was not the only one in the room with her.
Levi Cooper, police chief and babysitter extraordinaire, was sitting in the chair next to her bed. He’d taken Dad at his word; though she’d argued and yes, whined a little, he’d dragged the chair in here nonetheless and kept watch, ever the good soldier.
A tired soldier, too. He was asleep, his head tipped back against the chair, arms folded. And what arms they were. Her girl parts purred as she stared. The lower half of a tattoo showed where the thick muscle curved—10th Mountain Division. His dark blond hair was rumpled, sticking up in front a little bit.
Oh, man. Levi Cooper was really, really...hot. She’d managed to put that out of her head for quite a long time now. For more than a decade, she hadn’t allowed even one thought about his hotness, and really, how had she avoided it? The Man. Was. Delicious.
Even in sleep, his face held a slight scowl. But his eyelashes were straight and long and unexpectedly sweet, and his mouth was...yeah, okay, that was a nice mouth, full and sulky, and really, she should not be thinking these thoughts. He’d seen her in full blown seizure mode—oh, hemorrhoid—and he’d been nice enough to do her a favor (or do her father a favor, if you wanted to be technical). So fixating on his hotness...that was a one-way ticket. Because she knew what she looked like during a seizure (thank you, older brother): like one of the zombies from last night, stiff and jerking, possibly drooling for that extra dose of sex appeal, eyes wide and scared, snorty little pig noises thrown in for flair.
Faith looked at Blue, who was eyeing her from his half of the bed. “Stay,” she whispered, then slipped out from under the sheets. She went into her bathroom and started at her reflection, flinching a little. Hair matted, crustiness in one eye, mascara smudged, a crease running down one cheek courtesy of her pillowcase. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and washed her face mercilessly, then brushed her teeth. There. At least she was clean now. Oh, the sweatshirt. Nice touch. And let’s not forget the doggie pajamas. One could practically hear the bass of p**n o music pulsing.
Well. It was Levi, after all. He wouldn’t be thinking p**n o, not with her.
It was funny; she hadn’t had a witnessed seizure for a long time. Two times, she’d had them in Jeremy’s presence, that first time when he’d carried her to the nurse, and another time, when he’d been visiting her in college. He’d always treated her like a spun-sugar fairy princess, almost like her epilepsy made her more attractive (which she hadn’t really minded, to be honest).
But Levi...it didn’t seem to sway Levi one way or the other. He could’ve made her feel like an idiot last night, and he was gifted in that department, after all. But for some reason, last night had been oddly...fun.
“Right, Faith,” she muttered to her reflection. “Why don’t you have seizures more often, huh? The entrée to a good time—epilepsy.”
“You okay in there?”
She jumped at the sound of Levi’s voice. “Yes! I’m fine. Thank you! Out in a sec.” Pulling her hair out of the ponytail, she fluffed it, then rolled her eyes at herself. Kind of a lost cause at the moment.
She opened the door to find him standing there. “Do you always eavesdrop on women in the bathroom?” she asked, inching into the hall.
“You feeling all right?” he repeated, glancing at his watch.
“I’m fine. Thanks again, Levi. I’ll tell my dad what a good boy you were.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but maybe there was a gleam of amusement there. No smile, of course. This was Levi Cooper, after all. “See you around,” he said.
“Okay. Thank you again. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
He didn’t move, just stared at her impassively.
Then he closed the small distance between them and kissed her.
She wouldn’t have believed it if there wasn’t proof, but nope, no, he was definitely kissing her, his lips firm and, oh, wow, really good at what they were doing, and his big, bulging manly arms slid around her, pulling her against his solid, warm frame. One hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair, and Faith’s mouth opened in a bit of shock, and holy moly, he was frenching her, tasting her, and she melted against him in a purely primal—oh, yes, primal—reaction. Her arms slid around his lean waist, hands sliding up the smooth, hard muscles of his back, his skin hot under the thin cotton of his T-shirt, his mouth moving against hers.