Page 35 of Dear Adam
Shrugging, I whisper, “But I did. What are you going to do about it?”
I bite my lower lip and follow his gaze toward the same bucket. I hop from my perch on the sink as he leaps from the step ladder. We both lunge toward the bucket, but he wins by a split second and plunges both hands inside. With a wicked grin, he pulls out two fistfuls of grout and holds them over my head.
“Don’t do it,” I plead.
“Too late,” he replies and opens his fists. Grout pours down my face, covering my glasses.
“You just declared war,” I growl. In an instant, Levi bolts from the bathroom. I attempt following him, but run into the wall because I can’t see. I rub my forehead and wipe a small window on each lens of my glasses with my shirt hem, then take off after Levi. He’s pacing by the couch, keeping an eye on the door, no doubt planning his exit strategy. Slowly, we circle the coffee table, offering up threats.
“You better hope I don’t catch you.” I like to think I’m spitting the words like venom, akin to a movie heroine. Instead, they sound like a bad impersonation of Moana.
“I think I’m pretty safe considering I heard you run into the wall a minute ago,” he replies, a handsome smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You did?” I gasp, letting my guard down. My hand flies to my face, my cheeks turning a rich shade of red to match my forehead. Moana would be so disappointed.
“You might want to put some ice on that,” he calls over his shoulder as he flies out of the living room and out the front door. Hank and Pretzel emerge from the bedroom and chase after him, eager to join the fun.
“Pretzel, attack!” I yell with a chuckle. I had absolutely no intention of hurting Levi, I really didn’t. Pretzel, on the other hand, must’ve taken my command seriously. Before I can stop her, a furry missile streaks through the yard and grabs ahold of Levi’s pant leg. Furiously, she shakes her head, the fabric of his jeans clamped firmly between her surprisingly strong jaws. Hank, unfazed that his human is being attacked by a wiener dog, wanders over and sits beside me with a grunt.
“Um, Aly?” Levi asks, the panic in his voice unmistakable. I watch as he unbuttons his pants and slides his leg free from the side Pretzel doesn’t have in her mouth.
“Sorry! Can’t see you. Might bump into the porch railing if I try to help.”
His pleading eyes meet my steely gaze, and I can’t help but smirk when he reaches up and waves an invisible flag. Pretzel is growling now, really getting into it, and I decide it’s probably time to step in. When I reach Levi, Pretzel gives one last furious shake of her head that’s enough to send Levi to the ground. He lands with athunk, and Pretzel uses the advantage of his position to fully remove his pants.
Moments later, she’s running triumphantly through the yard, Levi’s pants trailing after her like a victory flag. Levi, meanwhile, is lying at my feet in the grass, clad in nothing but his black tee and…unicorn boxers. I double over in laughter when Hank clumsily knocks into the backs of my knees. I land ungracefully on top of Levi, still cackling when Hank and Pretzel shoot past, playing tug of war with the jeans.
“Do you…have…unicorns…on your boxers?” I ask between cackles and gulps of air.
“They’re old,” he clarifies with a defensive tone. “I ran out of clean clothes and found these wadded up in my drawer at Mom and Dad’s. They were a gag gift from Christmas a few years back. And in my defense, I’ve never worn them until now, and I didn’t think anyone would see them.”
“That’s definitely what I would say, too,” I say with a giggle and a wink. Levi reaches up and gently sets my glasses back on my face. It’s then I realize I’m still lying on top of all gloriously-chiseled six feet of him. Without warning, memories of our movie night flood my mind, most of all how he didn’t want to kiss me when he left. Like a bucket of ice water over my head, embarrassment replaces something a little steamier, and I push myself off him to stand. He does the same, and we both awkwardly look anywhere but at each other.
Thankfully, Pretzel diffuses the tension by running up with Levi’s jeans. I take them from her and unfold them. The hems are completely shredded from playing tug of war with Hank, and of course, the crotch is ripped wide open.
“Ahem.” We both look over to find Mr. Barnes is standing there, watering his front lawn again. I can only imagine what he’s thinking after witnessing a wiener dog and a German Shepherd running circles around a man wearing unicorn boxers, hands planted on his hips.
“Sorry, Mr. Barnes! We’ll be going inside now.”
He clears his throat again, and Levi and I stifle our laughs until we’re back inside.
“We could always take a picture of you likethat,” I offer, gesturing to his pants-less body. “People would go crazy over a contractor with a soft side. Who knew underneath all those clothes and that gruff exterior, you’d have unicorns on your boxers?”
“I already told you! They were a gag gift!” he exclaims, then plops on the couch. “Besides, I think posting indecent pictures on the internet is a crime.”
“Tell that to the hundreds of women who message you a day,” I mutter and sit on the other end of the couch.
“What?” he asks, brows knitting together.
“Nothing,” I say with a wave of my hand. “It’s not important.”
“What are you doing for the Fourth of July?” Levi blurts. He’s fidgeting with the hems of his boxers, tugging them down as far as they can stretch.
“Adam and I usually go to the top floor of his building and watch the fireworks from there, but I’m not sure this year…” I trail off.
Levi chews his bottom lip and for a moment, it’s enough to distract me from how badly I miss my brother. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Unlike business in California, business here is actually booming. Dad mentioned having a big cookout with all the employees and our friends and I was going to see if maybe…you’d want to come? I think they’re lighting off fireworks at the end of the night, too.”
