“Let me guess, old man.” Piper snorted. “You’ve fallen and you can’t get up?”
“Ha, ha.” Levi turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Piper. Unfortunately, she refused to stay in one place long enough for his tired eyes to focus. “No more jokes. Laughing hurts. Breathing hurts. Hell, the hairs on my arms hurt.”
“Poor baby,” Piper said, almost sounding sincere as she knelt by his side. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your skin is like ice. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Can’t raise my arms above my head,” Levi explained, feeling more and more pitiful by the second. “Help me.”
“I’m going to kick Joshua McClain’s ass,” Piper said as she gently rolled Levi onto his back. “What was he thinking? Bastard Mac. Did he let the defense tackle you on the first day? Are you hurt?”
The more Piper vented, the angry she became on his behalf, the better Levi felt. His body still felt like ten miles of bad road, but emotionally, his outlook had improved by leaps and bounds.
“Mac only did his job,” Levi said in defense of his head coach. “The guys went easy on me.”
“If this is easy, what happens when they ramp things up?” Piper asked. She shook her head. “Don’t answer. Knowing the details won’t stop you from putting yourself through the torture gauntlet.”
“Football is hard,” Levi explained.
“Football is stupid.” She let out a fatalistic sigh. “Which do you want first? Food or a massage?”
“I get a massage?” Levi grinned. “From you?”
“Let’s feed you first,” Piper said, making the decision herself. “After your stomach is full, we’ll see if the lotions and potions Claire left with me live up to their reputation.”
“Claire Thornton?” Levi asked, groaning as Piper helped him into a sitting position. “I’ve used her products before. They’re magic. And what the hell are you wearing?”
Rather than answer, Piper grasped Levi’s hands. Standing, she tugged and grunted and struggled until he was on his feet. She gave him a quick glare before heading toward the kitchen.
Levi hobbled behind which gave him the perfect opportunity to visually critique her choice of wardrobe. A cotton blouse, baggy, in a color he could only describe as washed out dirt. Her long skirt skimmed her ankles—limp and lifeless and her top—was dark, the shade of mud. On her feet, Piper wore thick socks rolled down to the tops of a pair of scuffed leather army boots.
Piper had scraped her red hair back into a tight bun and left her face free of even a dash of lipstick. Which was fine in Levi’s book. She was beautiful with or without makeup.
However, as an overall look, the best thing he could say about Piper’s current fashion choice was that everything was clean. She might fall on the skeevy side of the appearance scale, but—Levi sniffed the air—she smelled great.
“Piper.” Levi hobbled after her. “Since when did you start to dress like the dowdy cousin of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies?”
Ignoring him, Piper poked her head into the refrigerator.
“What sounds good?” she asked. “I can whip up a quick tomato bisque and grill you a cheese sandwich. Or would you rather I order out? Pizza? Fried chicken? Chinese?”
Deciding he was better standing than sitting, Levi leaned against the counter. As he watched Piper, he was relieved to discover that while almost every inch of his body ached, smiling at her antics didn’t hurt a bit.
“Soup and two sandwiches,” he said.
“Go and wash your hands. And splash some water on your face,” she instructed as she expertly chopped a whole onion into small pieces—without a tear in sight. “And put on a shirt before you freeze to death.”
“I’d buy into the idea that you’re worried about my health—if you didn’t keep stealing a glance at my manly physique. Want me to flex my pecs?” He asked, then groaned when his body protested.
“Serves you right.” Piper stuck out her tongue. “Think you can make it to the bathroom and back in twenty minutes, old man?”
“Time me,” Levi said with more bravado than common sense.
“Should I use a stopwatch or an hourglass?” she asked with a grin. She held up a cherry tomato. “Open your mouth.”
Doing as she instructed, Levi caught the small red sphere without moving an inch. As usual, Piper’s aim was dead-on accurate.
“Tell me again why you didn’t play a sport?” he asked. “You’d have killed at basketball.”
“I hate to sweat,” Piper explained. “Even more, I hate to be mauled by sweaty bodies.”
“But you like sex,” Levi reminded her.
“There’s always an exception to every rule.” Piper shrugged. “With the right partner, sex is the only contact sport I enjoy.”
“I’m game.”
“Not interested,” Piper said with a decisive shake of her head.
Levi grinned. He loved exchanging words with Piper. Her mind was quick, her comebacks sharp. The sexy banter was a new wrinkle. One where he was a happy participant.
“I’ll give you a home-field advantage,” he told her with a wink.
“You plan to get in your car and drive to my place? In your condition?” Piper scoffed. “Right now, you can’t get half-way to the bathroom without crying like a little boy. Anything else—especially sex with me—would probably kill you.”
“But I’d die a happy man,” Levi said.
“Leaving me unsatisfied.” Piper met his gaze, a glint of humor twinkling in her green eyes. “My last memory of you would not be a good one.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Levi sighed. “You’d be amazed by what I can accomplish if I want something badly enough. And make no mistake, Piper Winslow, I want you.”
Levi knew that in his current condition, he was all talk. Any action he took would have to wait for another day. However, Piper’s reaction—the way she ducked her head, the faint blush that stained her cheeks—almost put a spring into his slow, painful steps.
“Do you want milk or water?” she asked, conceding victory to Levi in tonight’s round of banter wars. He knew she’d be back for a rematch.
