Doing a happy dance around the room, Piper shimmied her hips to the song playing in her head. Sometimes the good guys won, she thought. Took a while, but in the end, he’d received his reward for all the years watching the spotlight shine on everyone but him.
“You won’t want me to make a fuss,” Piper said, then smiled as she thought of the cake waiting to be cut. “Too bad. Tomorrow you can turn into the stoic athlete. Tonight, we celebrate.”
If Levi ever showed up.
Piper was about to call Darcy and ask if something happened when the doorbell rang. Setting aside her tea, she rushed across the room. Stubbing her toe on the coffee table, she stumbled, righted herself, and let out a string of obscenities colorful enough to make a sailor blush.
“Sometimes nothing else but a few good curse words will do,” she told herself, justifying the decimation of her resolution.
“Did I hear you say damn?” Levi asked before she could do more than open the door. “And shit. And fuck?”
Ah, the Levi Reynolds smile. Instinctive, or practiced, the man knew the secret of how to warm a woman’s heart. Though Piper was immune—for the most part—to the abundant charm that accompanied the slow curve of his lips, she’d learned to ignore the sizzle she occasionally felt along the surface of her skin.
An unexpected relationship that began in a moment of mutual misery and continued long after they dropped the fake-dating in favor of something solid, stable, and irreplaceable.
True, Levi had the kind of good looks that were hard to ignore. Naturally lanky, he worked hard to maintain a physically strong and muscled physique. Tall, broad-shouldered. Then there was that face. She would never categorize him as matinee idol pretty. But who would aspire to chiseled beauty when ruggedly handsome was an option?
If the number of women who stopped in their tracks whenever Levi entered a room could be used as an accurate measuring stick, the answer was a resounding no one in their right mind.
Giving herself a mental shake, Piper stood aside and let Levi enter. Down girl, she warned her traitorous libido. She’d decided long ago not to let the pull of an unwanted sexual attraction ruin what could only be categorized as a practically perfect friendship.
As Levi hung his jacket in the hall closet, Piper waited, her patience at an end. Beaming with pride and excitement, bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Congratulations!”
Levi swayed, his eyes turning glassy. Taking a step forward, he tripped and almost took a header into Piper’s dining room table. Alarmed, she rushed forward and tried to use her body to prevent him from hitting the floor.
Too late, Piper realized the futility of her plan. Her shorter, more slender body had not been designed to act as a landing pad for two hundred and ten pounds of solid male. Luckily, Levi grabbed her arms. Turning at the last second, he fell onto the sofa, bringing her with him.
Sprawled on Levi’s chest, Piper made an up-close and personal examination of his face. For want of a better word, the best way she could describe his expression was wonky.
“Are you drunk?” Piper asked as Levi blinked his gaze into focus.
“Nope.” Levi leaned close. “Sniff. Not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips since I called you from London.”
“Then why did you fall?”
“I’ve held myself upright most of the day.” With a sigh, he arranged himself into a comfortable position and settled Piper into the crook of his arm. “Sheer force of will and the fear of landing flat on my face in front of my team is all that kept my legs from buckling.”
“Are you ill?” Piper placed her palm on Levi’s forehead. To compare, she touched her face, then returned her hand to his. “You don’t feel feverish. Are you nauseous? Dizzy?”
“I’m terrified.” Levi buried his head in Piper’s neck.
Piper smoothed back a fall of gold-streaked hair from his face. Big, strong, Levi Reynolds reduced to a quivering mass of flesh and muscle. She never thought she’d live to see the day.
“Terrified?” she asked. “Of what? Football?”
“Of failing,” Levi’s fingers curled around the material of her t-shirt until his knuckles brushed her waist. “Of living up to lowered expectations.”
“Whose expectations are low?” Piper demanded. She was incensed at the thought. “Not Dylan’s nor the rest of the Knights.”
Levi’s head fell back against the cushion. Unfocused, he stared at the ceiling.
“Don’t be so sure,” he said. “I know my teammates support me, want me to succeed. However, they must have their doubts about whether I can still play the game.”
“You’re a little rusty,” Piper insisted. “That’s what happens when a bunch of fools leave a high performance, precision machine parked in the garage for too long.”
“Interesting metaphor.”
Piper was encouraged when she spied a slight twitch at the corner of Levi’s mouth. He might not feel like smiling yet, but he was close. As his friend, her job was to get him the rest of the way.
“Metaphors are my specialty,” she said. “Sometimes they make sense, other times, not so much. The secret is to sound smart, so the listener believes you know what you’re talking about.”
Reluctantly, as though the process bordered on painful, Levi’s lips curled upward. Piper felt a surge of satisfaction.
“Can I ask you a question?” Levi swallowed. “One I couldn’t ask anyone else?”
Piper wanted to make Levi feel better. But when his arms tightened around her, she was the one whose heart magically felt lighter.
“You can say anything to me,” she said as she snuggled close.
“What if I fail.” Levi let out a shuddering sigh.
Piper didn’t want to lie. If she only said what he wanted to hear, if she piled on the false comfort, she might make him feel better today. But could she be considered a true friend? Carefully, she chose her words.
“I don’t know what will happen on Sunday,” Piper said. “But whatever happens, at least you finally get to take your shot.”
“This season, for the first time, I finally gave up.”
Piper wanted to look into Levi’s eyes so she could understand his meaning. But when she tried to raise her head, he cupped the back of her neck, holding her in place. She could have persisted because she knew that rather than take a chance on hurting her, he would have let go. Instead, she quieted, breathed in his scent—citrus blended with warm male—and let him have his way.
“Gave up?” she asked.
“For the first time, I didn’t question my place on the team,” Levi explained. “I didn’t chafe at the invisible bonds that perpetually held me in my place. My job was to be the backup quarterback. No more, no less.”
“You weren’t happy,” Piper insisted. “You were never happy playing second fiddle to someone like Monte Oliver. Someone who didn’t have half your talent or brains.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t happy.” Levi nodded. With each bob, his chin tapped the top of Piper's head. “However, I’d achieved a Zen-like state of mind. I was able to watch Monte fuck up the offense without drowning in the desire to shove the football down his throat.”