The Game (That Girl, #2)(38)
“Not my brightest moment.”
I laugh at my own joke, and Levi smiles.
“Want to hold it?’
I could totally take his comment in so many different directions, but refrain. Levi holds the sleepy kitten out to me. Feverishly I shake my head no, but he doesn’t give me a choice and forces the little fur ball in my hands.
“I’m holding a cat,” I whisper.
And I’m not sure if it’s the sound of my voice or the curse my dad’s cat, George, put on me, but the little sucker goes nuts, starting to claw its way out of my hands. When its claw connects with my skin, I scream. My scream only sends the little shit into more of a panic, and like a snowball I scream louder, and the kitten freaks out more.
Levi recovers from his laughter before grabbing the killer from me.
“Holy shit.” Levi’s face is bright red from his laughter. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.”
“Shut up, *.”
“Tripping over a dog and getting mauled by a kitty…”
“Don’t forget getting it on at the dock.”
“Yes, and getting it on at the dock. Damn, Jazzy, you’re too much.”
“You are telling me,” I say as I jump up into the driver’s seat.
Chapter 9
Jazzy
Pulling into the driveway, I spot Lynlee and Lincoln on the porch, and she’s clinging to him. Not a good sign.
“You guys are leaving now?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for taking me fishing.”
Levi chuckles, lost in his own thoughts. “We didn’t do much fishing, but must say it was the best time I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too.”
It barely comes out as a whisper. I could say so much more. Tell him how worthy of loving he is, and how I believe wholeheartedly he’ll recover and go straight back to the top of his game. Also, how I want to be there when he does. Yes, I could go on and on, but choose against it, not wanting to ruin a perfect day.
“I’ll text you, Jazzy.”
Levi doesn’t speak another word, and I watch, stunned, as he gets out of the truck. He doesn’t look back, or stutter in his step. He climbs into Lincoln’s truck and waits while his brother hugs and kisses Lynlee. In moments, Lynlee is left on the steps crying, and I still sit in the truck. I finally step out as they pull out of the drive. Levi has his ball cap pulled down and sunglasses on, with no emotion showing on his face.
Talk about hot and cold. Finally, when I thought things were going somewhere. Bam! Wrong, again. The only reminder of Levi anywhere is the sensation still throbbing between my legs, and the damn kitten he left in the front seat.
“Lynlee.”
“What?”
“Damn, don’t be so pissy to me.”
“Well, do you want to know how freaking hard it is to watch him go?”
“I might have an idea.”
“Well, it’s damn hard, for your information. I’m so pissed he’s leaving, but so thankful he came home for the night, but I’m f*cking pissed…”
She stops, and I see the full realization on her face. My words just sank in, and she’s processing them one by one.
“What do you mean you have an idea, Jazzy?”
“I mean what I mean.”
“Which is?”
My anger finally gets the best of me. I throw the cooler to the ground. We both watch as the handle and contents go sailing in all sorts of directions.
“I like Levi, okay? Are you happy? I think I might possibly like the * a heap load, and he just f*cking left without so much as a goodbye or go f*ck yourself.”
She doesn’t respond. I do believe my revelation hit her out of nowhere. Hell, my feelings these days are even beginning to surprise me.
“Um, is that a cat in the truck?’
Turning around, I see the little black killer sitting up on the dashboard, perched in the sun.
“I think god hates me,” I mumble.
“Where did the cat come from?”
“We found it.”
“You found a cat fishing, Jazzy?”
“Yep.”
Lynlee opens the cab and snags it. Just like Levi, the little kitten warms ups to her instantly, snuggling down in her arms with a loud, contented purr.
“The kitten hates me.”
“Whatever, it probably just senses how nervous you are. Does it have a mom? Where did you find it? Did you guys catch any fish?”
She starts with her round of rapid-fire questions, not even waiting for me to answer one. I follow her into the house as she keeps talking more to herself than to me. Lynlee has always been the animal lover. This cat will be a perfect fit for her house.
“So?” she asks.
“Oh, um. It didn’t have a mom. We found it at the pond on Nevada Street, and we didn’t really fish much. What else did you ask?”
“Girl, you’re so far out of it, I don’t even know where to start.”
My phone beeps before I have to respond to Nosy Nelly, and I sneak away into her living room. Snuggling down into the couch, I figure it’s another email or text from the real estate agent back in my hometown. I’m correct. Another email.