Page 51 of Stroke of Fate

Heat blooms in my belly at his compliment, and I fight a smile but lose the battle quickly.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, Whiskey Eyes.”

His smile grows at the nickname, and I’m transported back to the night I first said it to him. Of course, now I’m thinking about what happened in my bedroom,aaandwe’re officially off track.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Should we get going?”

“After you.” He steps aside and gestures for me to go ahead.

“Oh, how was your swim meet yesterday?” When the question leaves my mouth, I realize it’s not just small talk. I genuinely want to know how he did.

“It wasn’t an official meet, just a friendly, so there were no winners or losers, but between the two of us we smoked the shit out of them.” He winks.

His mood is infectious, and the nervous energy I felt earlier begins to fade. “Do you compete as a team or individual?”

“Technically, both,” he answers.

“What does that mean?”

“Well,” he explains, pushing the button for the elevator. “I won my heat yesterday, which is the technical term for a race. But there’s also the team aspect to it.”

When the elevator stops on our floor, we step in, standing side by side. As we start to descend, Levi continues.

“Individual times are added together to determine how the team did overall. But that’s more for school ranking than anything else.”

“So, being a better team makes you more competitive?” I ask, ignoring how his bicep brushes against my arm or how his cologne fills the tiny space, assaulting my senses in the best way possible.

“Exactly. You catch on quick, Teddy Bear.” He flashes me a grin, and my cheeks warm at his praise.

Levi’s hand appears on my lower back when the elevator doors open. Leaning into it is instinctive; I don’t even realize I’ve done it until my brain catches up moments later.

Instead of heading toward the parking lot, he guides me to the front entrance. I shoot him a questioning look.

“The restaurant isn’t too far,” he says, answering my silent question. “I thought we could walk if you’re fine with that?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

Levi falls in step beside me, and when his hand brushes mine, sparks shoot up my arm. I glance his way to see if he felt ittoo, but, as usual, his face gives nothing away. Chalking it up to my imagination, I let it go.

Business meeting, Bear.

Except, it happens again. This time, his pinky locks with mine, and I let it. It feels too natural and, dammit, really nice.

Levi doesn’t comment on it, and neither do I. We let it be, and I’m grateful for that.

We chat about swimming during the short walk to the restaurant, and he shares stories about his teammates. I enjoy listening to him talk.

Not only is it admirable how hardworking he is while still keeping up with his classes, but it’s obvious Levi has a strong passion for the sport. And there’s something so attractive about a man dedicated to something beyond himself.

All Hunter cared about was, well, Hunter. He had no routine or ambitions, which might explain why his attention eventually started straying to places it shouldn’t have.

Our pinkies slip apart when we stop in front of a set of glass doors withCedar Grill and Loungeprinted on them.

“Sounds pretty fancy for a business meeting,” I joke.

A ghost of an emotion flickers across his face, but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Fine, confession.” He puts his hands up in the air, palms facing me, with a grin. “Steak and broccoli is my favorite meal. No one does it better than my mom, but this place is a close second, so it’s my go-to whenever I have an excuse to go out.”

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