Page 30 of Dirty Player

Taking a step back, he frowns. “Kaylee.”

“I’m fine.” Grabbing my handbag and digging through it for my phone, I climb out of the car. “Just need to go back inside.”

Jesus, I’m the worse liar in history.

“It took you twenty minutes to figure that out?”

I tug my bag on my shoulder and slam the car door. “Yes.”

I meet his eyes, and Levi blinks.

“Did you get my message?”

“Thanks. Apology accepted.” My voice is softer and suddenly I have this ridiculous need for him to wrap me in his arms.

Shit.

A tear threatens to escape. “Okay, I—”

As I turn to walk away, Levi reaches for my arm and the waterworks explode out of me like a bubble bursting.

“Woah.” He drops his bag and his strong body envelopes me.

Nestled inside his big strong arms, I press into his chest and cry my little heart out. Without a word, he just holds me, rubbing his hand along my back.

After a long moment, I suddenly realize how inappropriate this is and an awkwardness sets in. I fight it for as long as I can, not wanting to ever leave his arms.

I promise to reflect on that later, but right now, I need to get over to my parent’s place to see Dad.

“I’m sorry,” I say and reluctantly lift my head.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Levi glances around, and when a couple of the players exit the building, he takes a step away.

Cold air replaces the warmth of his body, and I wrap my arms around my middle.

“Dad is in the hospital.”

“Shit, Kaylee,” he says, shaking his head. “Is it serious?”

“Yes. No. It’s his heart. He’s on his way home now. But...”

Levi waits for me to keep talking about I don’t want him to know everything about my life. I don’t want him to be the man I share this with.

I do.

But wanting that will only lead to more disappointment. Right now he’s only comforting me because, while I hate to admit it, Levi Montgomery is a gentleman.

“I just need to ring an Uber.” I admit.

I feel stupid. All around us are luxury vehicles that most people in America could never afford, and while no one expects me to own one, the least my trusty—past tense—Toyota could do is start.

Levi glances at it, then seems to make a decision.

“I’ll give you a ride. Come on.”

He’s already moving, and my traitorous body follows for some reason.

“That’s okay. Levi, wait.” He turns and I bump into his back.

---