Page 79 of Leo and His Love Bunny

After all, if I told him that I thought he was confident and masculine and that the stubble on his face was unbelievably sexy, I wouldn’t want him to laugh at my compliments. Of course, the rest of the world could tell him all of that too, and the rest of the world certainly is not breaking the door down to tell me that I’m beautiful. So, maybe apples to oranges.

The party is in some kind of club, and I’ve never been any place like it before. I’m definitely feeling provincial, whether Leo thinks I am or not.

I think that the guy at the door is the bouncer. At least, he’s built like one, and he checks Leo’s ID, before he nods at him, eyes me up, and then lifts his chin like he doesn’t want to let me in but he has to anyway.

Leo has his arm around me, and we walk in together.

It’s warm inside, and my stomach feels like it’s going to fly away. There’s some kind of loud music playing, and I hate this about myself, but this is not my type of thing at all. And I wonder how long I’m going to have to stay before I can leave, and be blessedly alone in silence.

I try to tell myself that that’s not the way I should be thinking, and instead try to find a way to enjoy this. This is what people do for fun, and I’m a people, so I should be able to have fun.

Leo greets guys that look kind of familiar, but I don’t know who they are. I know Leo, of course, and I’ve seen some of the other guys play, but I don’t see them very often without their helmets on. It’s not like I stick around for the after game interviews. That will probably change this season, just because I’ll want to see Leo as much as I can.

“Would you like a drink?” Leo asked, as he guides me to a table and I sit down.

I nod. A drink would give me something to do with my hands, and it would help my dry throat as well.

“I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks away, taking about two steps before someone starts to talk to him. I realize that it could be a long time before he comes back.

“Hey there, Nora,” Cal says as he stopped by my table with two sodas in his hand.

“Cal,” I say, relieved to see a familiar face.

“I just want to let you know that your anteater is doing great.” He beams like I have some kind of personal hand in the health of my anteater.

“The last report I saw was that she was pregnant. Which is pretty exciting,” I say, remembering that I kind of squealed when I read that email.

“Right?” He laughs. “I thought it was interesting that Leo’s anteater is the daddy of your anteater’s babies. Is that ironic orwhat?” Cal says, and then he gets distracted by something over my head, smiles and jerks his head and looks back down at me. “I need to go. Lance hasn’t adopted an anteater yet, and I’m pretty sure tonight’s the night I’m going to talk him into it.”

He gives me a grin, and I realize Cal is kinda cute in a completely different way than what Leo is, and I find myself thinking that the kind of cuteness Leo has is the kind that I love. Maybe it’s not even a cuteness. It’s more like a rugged handsomeness where Cal just doesn’t have...I don’t know. Whatever interests me. He certainly has character and integrity, and he seems trustworthy as well. And Leo likes him, which is enough for me.

I’m still thinking about that, when a dude I don’t know shows up beside me with his hand out.

“Want to dance?” he asks, and I look up into a face that is familiar, but I can’t put a name to it.

“Leo is coming back with drinks,” I say, not wanting to turn him down, and feeling a little bit uncomfortable with his hand sticking in front of my face while I pretend to ignore it.

“He’s talking with Rochelle. It’s going to be a while. Those two were a thing for a while a few years ago, and she’s never gotten over him.”

I lean around him, and look in the direction he nods. Sure enough, Leo is talking to a blond, and maybe I should add sophisticated in front of blonde. She definitely looks urbane and worldly and everything that I’m not. Big hoop earrings in her ears, a diamond stud winking in her nose, and her strapless dress exposes the delicate butterfly tattooed on her shoulder.

She’s got another tattoo on her ankle, and her heels are at least four times higher than mine are. I would kill myself trying to walk in those shoes. Not to mention, my feet would kill me.

I turned back to the dude in front of me who still has his hand in front of my face.

I don’t want to say yes.

“Maybe some other time,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder. I don’t care who Leo’s talking to. I came with him, and I’m not planning on dancing with anyone else.

I do like the song though. It’s one that played on the radio a lot when I was a teenager, and it’s romantic. It came out with a movie that was popular at the time, and it has all the good feels.

“Nora. Leo sent me over here to make sure that you don’t feel alone and neglected while he’s chatting. So come on. Dance with me.”

Leo sent him? Really? Like I need a babysitter? Or he doesn’t want to dance with me so he sent his friend.

I don’t think that’s the way it actually happened, but the fact that Leo sent this dude apparently changes my mind since my hands somehow ends up in his.

It doesn’t feel right. I don’t like it, and I want to pull away as soon as my skin touches his, but that would be rude. My reaction is ridiculous. People do this stuff all the time. Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.

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