Sweet Soul (Sweet Home #5)

Jake laughed. “Seems like you’ve found a chick that likes to talk about as much as you, eighty-four. She’s perfect for you.”


My heart plummeted, feeling like I was embarrassing Levi, when he said, “She talks plenty, man, she’s just shy meeting new people, that’s all.” I heard Levi’s heartbeat increase, my right ear at his pec, then he added, “But yeah, she’s pretty perfect for me, you got that part right.”

Levi nodded, then exhaled a deep breath. “We gotta go, guys. I’m taking my girl out.”

Jake stepped back, but asked, “It’s probably a no, but we’re having a party tonight and…” Jake trailed off. Levi laughed.

“Nah, man. But thanks. Catch you next week.”

Levi immediately opened the Jeep’s passenger side door and I stepped inside. Before he moved to the driver’s side, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my lips. As he pulled back, I gave him a questioning look. That familiar redness coated his cheeks, and he said, “Just like calling you my girl, that’s all. It sounded real good on my lips.”

Levi was in the driver’s seat before I even realized he’d moved. Truth was, I liked him calling me my girl too. I liked that I was his.

Levi’s girl.



*



Levi took us to a restaurant on the waterfront. It was a small Italian, very secluded and private. He held my hand as the server led us to an outside table overlooking the Puget Sound. There were heaters at the top of the table making it comfortable to sit out in the dry night air.

We had barely sat down when a man came out smiling, aiming directly for Levi. “Ciao, come stai, Levi?” the man said, obviously speaking Italian.

My heart stopped. No, almost burst when Levi stood looking handsome in his team suit and shook his hand.

“Bene, Carlo, et tu?”

My mouth fell open as I listened to Levi talk in fluent Italian with the manager, his soft shy voice bold and colorful as his tongue wrapped around the consonants and vowels.

The man must have asked something about me, as Levi smiled down at me, nodding his head. “Si,” he replied, his head lowering in timidity. “Lei é la mia ragazza.”

The man tapped Levi on his arm, and replied, “Ah, é bella.”

This time, when Levi looked up at me through his fallen strands of hair, something inside of me set on fire. I stared, waiting desperately for him to respond, just to hear that beautiful language, when he rasped, “Si, Carlo. Bella mia.”

Levi sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and I couldn’t help but blush. Carlo moved toward me, taking my hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and said, “Buon appetito.”

I nodded my head in thanks, as Carlo walked off and left us alone. Levi sat down, but he didn’t lift his head. I reached across the table to take his hand resting on the top. Levi inhaled deeply and met my eyes.

I shook my head. “You speak Italian?”

A shadow seemed to pass across Levi’s eyes and he nodded his head. “Yeah,” was all he said. I squeezed his hand letting him know I wanted more, when he ran his free hand down his face. “My mamma was Italian, from Florence. She moved here to be with my pop.” He glanced up then back down and added, “She only really spoke to us in Italian. Austin brings us here a lot. That’s how we know the manager.”

I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping Levi’s hand until my fingers began to ache. Pulling myself closer to the table, I brought our joined hands to my face and ran his hand down my cheek, only to land on my lips so I could press a kiss to his warm skin. Levi watched my every movement. He swallowed as I stayed quiet. But I said everything I needed to say with that kiss—I understood.

“So,” Levi rasped, emotion thick in his voice, “What did y’all think of the game?”

I shook my head looking out onto the full moon reflecting off the water. “It was surreal,” I replied, the water rippling in the gentle wind. I looked back to Levi and continued. “It was so full of people, people chanting your name, and watching you like you were a God.”

Levi’s expression was guarded as I spoke. He looked out over the water too, but he ran his thumb over the back of my hand and asked, “Is it… could it be something you could get used to?”

His thumb paused on my hand, awaiting my answer. I shrugged. “I’m,” I stopped and shook my head. “I’m not sure I could be around it all the time.” I lifted my hand to my right ear. “The sounds were deafening.” I huffed a laugh at the irony in that statement, but said, “There were so many people there. I’ve never seen so many people in one place before.” I inhaled. “It was overwhelming.”