They would talk tomorrow.
“Go,” she told him. Her voice wasn’t strong, but unlike her nerves, it was steady.
“Your apartment in cozier than my big, empty house,” Levi said as he headed down the hallway toward the spare bedroom. “Sleep tight.”
Piper had few options. She could follow and insist he leave her apartment. If he flat out refused, which was more likely than not, her options were reduced to nothing. Arguing with him would be pointless, and potentially embarrassing, depending on what was said in the heat of the moment.
Physically, Piper had no recourse. She couldn’t throw him out and though she knew he’d never hit her back, kicking him in the shins would make her look like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.
The best solution was to retreat to her bed, relax, sleep. In the morning, she would be back to her calm, reasonable self, not hopped up on the aftereffects of Levi’s kiss.
Studiously, Piper went through her usual nighttime routine. Face washed, teeth brushed, wearing her favorite nightie, she climbed beneath the covers and settled in, closed her eyes, and waited for blessed sleep. And waited. And waited.
Frustrated, Piper turned on her side. Picturing Levi’s too handsome face, she punched the pillow. Falling asleep was never a problem. She’d been known to will herself into an unconscious state in the noisiest, most uncomfortable, inconvenient locations. Yet alone, in the comfort and quiet of her bedroom, she could only stare into the dark and curse the source of her newfound insomnia.
Damn you, Levi Reynolds.
CHAPTER SEVEN
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SLOWLY, PURPOSEFULLY, LEVI rotated his head in a slow circle. When something cracked, he winced but wasn’t deterred. With the same deliberation, he changed direction and suffered through another series of popping noises.
Levi hadn’t waited until the crack of dawn to arrive at the Knights’ workout facility. Instead, after five solid hours of sleep, he left Piper’s apartment well before the sun’s first rays of light crept over Mt. Rainer’s familiar peak.
Standing to the side of a circular track, Levi stretched, loosened his muscles. Taking a deep breath, he hit the timer on his watch and took off, running at full speed as though his life were on the line. During a game, with the opposing defense out for blood, his death—at least the death of his career—was a definite possibility.
At the quarter-mile mark, Levi checked his time. Not bad for a thirty-two-year-old man. For an elite quarterback, he was middle of the pack. Determined, he reached down for more and made his legs move faster.
Half-mile. Three quarters. Spying the end, Levi pushed himself farther, harder. Three yards from home, he found one last burst of reserved energy and burst across the finish line, simultaneously stopping the timer.
Gasping for breath, he collapsed onto the grass that covered the inner part of the circular track and rolled to his back. Sweat dripped from every part of his body and oxygen was at a premium, his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding with the force of an out of control jackhammer.
Levi gasped for breath. Raising his arm, he checked his time and grinned. Not bad. Not bad at all.
“Don’t get too cocky,” Dylan said, sprawled on the ground. He handed Levi a bottle of water. “In case you’ve forgotten how the game works, once the center hikes you the ball, you won’t have the luxury of running in a straight line.”
Downing the liquid in four gulps, Levi poured what was left in the bottle over his face.
“Just needed to make certain the speed was still there. What I need to work on are my bobbing and weaving skills.” Levi sat up. “Back in the day, I had moves that left linebackers eating my dust.”
“For the sake of the team and my sanity, don’t try anything fancy on Sunday,” Dylan said, his expression unusually serious. “Let your offensive line do their jobs and pass from the pocket.”
Levi knew Dylan was right. He wasn’t ready, mentally or physically, for anything fancy. No one in his right mind would leave the on-field decision making up to him. Not in the first game, at least.
Mac and his coaching staff would put together a basic game plan. Quick, short passes and a lot of handing the ball off so the running backs could do their jobs. Levi would shelve his ego and do whatever was asked of him.
“I won’t try and be a hero,” Levi assured his friend. “However, even the best plays sometimes break down at some point. If I’m not prepared to scramble, I’ll be dead meat.”
“Quarterback roadkill,” Dylan said with a sage nod. “You’re right. Work on your moves. I’ll help. The team needs you upright and healthy.”
“I can still play with the big boys.” Levi rolled to his feet. He held out a hand to Dylan.
“You’re preaching to the choir.” Dylan chuckled. “You have an entire team of acolytes. No doubts, no worries.”
“I appreciate the cheerleader routine,” Levi said as he pulled his sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head.
“Sis-boom-bah, buddy.” Dylan waved a pair of imaginary pompoms. When Levi snorted, he shrugged. “Old school, I know. I never could get the kicks right, so I gave up on becoming a cheerleader.”
“The football world is grateful for your sacrifice,” Levi said with a straight face.
“Big sacrifice,” Dylan agreed. He winked and flashed his smile. “Don’t think I didn’t do my part. Instead of joining, I dated the cheer squad. I still have a soft spot in my heart for a woman in a short, pleated skirt.”
“You dated the entire squad?” Levi asked. “How did you manage that without causing a riot?”
“Talent.” Dylan shrugged. “Charm. Sex appeal. And enough natural magnetism to light up the streets of Broadway.”
Shaking his head and smothering a smile, Levi grabbed a towel.
“I’d tell you to get over yourself, but what would be the point?”
“What’s the point of taking a shower?” Dylan called out as Levi stepped into one of the stalls. “You’ll just get messed up again once practice begins. Once the defense has their way, you’ll be a freaking dirtball—head to toe.”
Knowing Dylan was only half-joking, Levi put the image out of his head. He was prepared to get knocked on his ass—and eat some dirt in the process. Pain and punishment were all part of the game. He could hardly wait.
Levi lifted his face toward the showerhead, sighing with pleasure as hot, steamy water washed the drying sweat from his skin. From the time he was old enough to dream of a career in football, he’d worked hard to transform his body into a machine he could count on to do the job.
During a game, Levi’s reflexes needed to be automatic, second nature. While his brain had to think four steps ahead, his body needed to be in the moment.
Levi didn’t have any illusions about Sunday’s game. He would make mistakes. There would be moments when he failed. Playing the game of football could not be compared to riding a bike. Once you learned, you could forget. Especially when you’d been on the sidelines for as long as he had.