Top Notch (Man on Top Book 1)

by Nicole Richard

  I stood neck deep in the cool water, shocked and contemplating my next move. Did I get dressed, grab my things, and get the hell out of there, or did I find him and try and figure out what was happening? Better yet, did I wait until he came in search of me?

  I decided on neither, just yet.

  I covered my exposed breasts and tied a knot at the back of my neck, picked up my margarita glass, and gulped the slushy drink.

  Alcohol and sun were probably not the best combination to be making rash decisions, but in that particular moment, I didn’t give a shit.

  I waded backward through the water and sat on the steps with my drink in hand. I looked to the house to see if Levi might be lurking in plain view. He wasn’t. Not that I could see. I picked apart his reaction in my head and couldn’t understand why he got so upset. Yes, we were careless, but flipping out and taking off seemed a bit extreme, even for him.

  “What do I do?” I polished off my drink, wishing I had another one.

  I sat clueless, fidgeting with my fingernails, until finally coming to the conclusion that I should get dressed and quietly let myself out.

  Making good on my decision, I ensured my swimsuit was in place. I grabbed the towel I had set out on my lounge chair and wrapped it around my body, saddened by the turn of events. I tiptoed through the house, hoping I wouldn’t run into him. If he was that perturbed about the situation, it was best if he had some time to cool off, and then if he wanted to talk, I’d apologize for my lack of better judgment and figure out what would happen next.

  I headed straight for his bedroom where my things were. I pulled a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and underwear from my bag and took it to the bathroom. Hurriedly, I changed out of my swimsuit, grabbed my toiletries, and stuffed them in my bag.

  I tossed my hair into a messy bun and shouldered my bag, taking one last look around. “It didn’t have to end like this,” I whispered to the empty room, not expecting to hear his voice.

  “Then don’t let it.” I glanced to the doorway where Levi stood, looking and smelling freshly showered, dressed in a different pair of board shorts and T-shirt, his face a mixture of regret and melancholy. “Please, don’t go. Talk to me?”

  It helped that he asked and not demanded I stay. I gave it a minute before carefully setting my bag down, not once taking my eyes off him.

  “Okay.”

  He held his hand out, and I took the few steps to him.

  “Let’s do this in the living room.”

  I followed him out of his bedroom and through the kitchen to the living room where he already had two bottles of water waiting on coasters on the glass tabletop. I tucked myself in one corner of his sofa, and he sat beside me.

  “Did you want some water?”

  I shook my head and waited. When he didn’t say anything, I pointed in the direction of the backyard and asked, “What happened out there?”

  “I freaked.”

  “I know, but the question is why?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He grimaced. “Things could have gotten pretty messy—no pun intended.” When he didn’t laugh or even crack a smile, I retreated back into myself. If he was going to inadvertently place the blame on me, he should’ve just let me leave when I had the chance.

  Hating the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I carefully lifted myself from the couch. “Maybe now’s not the best time to talk.” I got two steps in when he reached for my hand, stopping me.

  “I’m sorry. Please.”

  Something had to have happened for him to be acting this out of sorts.

  I sat back down.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting pregnant?” The caution in his voice made me do an internal double take.

  “Shouldn’t we be more concerned that you didn’t ask me any of this prior to what happened?”

  “Rowan.” His demeanor did a total one-eighty, his tone held an eerie calm. A shiver passed through me, the air cold and sterile. “I don’t make it a habit of getting random women pregnant . . .”

  I winced. Did he consider me just another promiscuous body warming his bed for the time being? My feet urged me to get up and leave, to hold my head high and walk the hell out of his house, this time without looking back, but he stopped me before I got the chance.

  “Sorry. Let me rephrase that.”

  “Please do,” I replied, lacking warmth.

  “I’m usually careful, and well . . .”

  “Well, what?”

  He took a minute to find his words and then my hands. “It’s different with you.”

  Everything is different with you too.

  “I guess I just got carried away,” he added, and guilt started taking root.

  “Look, Levi. I’m not sure what’s happening between us, but what has happened so far, I like—”

  “I like it too.”

  “But if you really need me to explain, it’s not that I want to get pregnant . . .” I gave my words and how I wanted to explain some thought. But the look of absolute fear on his face had my stomach flipping. And not the good flips. Was he thinking I planned this? “If you want me to take a morning-after pill . . .” I panicked, offering to do something I’d otherwise never suggest. I didn’t think I could live with myself if he said yes.

  “I’d never ask you to do something like that,” he eased.

  I swallowed hard and whispered, “Thank you.” Finding my voice again, I continued, “I was put on the shot at a young age. We didn’t find out until much later that it wasn’t the best option for someone my age—the risks outweighed the benefits.”

  “B-but—”

  “Let me finish, please,” I cut him off, needing to get this out. “After the shot, I tried a few different pills, but they were making me sick. And since I wasn’t having sex, I decided to give my body a break.”

  “So, you had unprotected sex every time?” He sounded appalled, missing the important ending to my reasoning.

  “No!” I blanched, offended and exhausted with the conversation altogether. “I’ve never had sex without a condom, until . . . well, until today.”

  “Wait. Backtrack. You said ‘since you weren’t having sex.’ What does that mean?”

  Seriously! Did he need me to spell it out? Or maybe if I drew him a picture he’d understand. Maybe he took one too many fastballs to the head. “It means before you, I haven’t had sex in a while.”

  “How long?”

  “Two . . . three years, maybe,” I guessed.

  “How did you go without for so long?”

  I never took him for being dense, but this conversation was making me seriously rethink things.

  “Believe it or not, most women need some kind of emotional connection, and after my last failed relationship, I decided to focus solely on my career. You and I never got far enough into our relationship to not use one.” Under normal circumstances, going that deep required at least a year of commitment in my book. “Not that I think this is a relationship or anything,” I backpedaled.

  “But we slept together the first night . . .” He scowled. “And why would you think this isn’t a relationship?”

  “I was celebrating.” I shrugged. “Took a chance and did something I normally wouldn’t. And because guys like you don’t have . . .” I stretched my words, hoping he wouldn’t make me finish. Why am I even saying this?

  “Don’t have what?”

  I hesitated. “Don’t do serious relationships.”

  “Says who?”

  Why was he making such a big deal out of this? The proof was all there in the media. I’d seen most of the evidence with my own two eyes, heard Greg talking to my mom with my own ears. It wasn’t any kind of secret that those guys took advantage of the attention offered to them. The partying, the women.

  “I mean, at the very least, I’d like to think we’re friends. Don’t you?” I could see the hurt in his eyes.<
br />
  “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

  He took my hand in his and we were quiet for a minute.

  “I’m sorry too. For the way I reacted. I could have handled that better,” he apologized.

  “Is there a reason you reacted the way you did?”

  “There is.” He nodded, looking away.

  I waited, patiently, with my hands on my knees and a million possible scenarios racing through my head.

  “That relationship I mentioned?” A sinking feeling settled low in my belly. “We had a scare.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought she was pregnant, but that day, after her doctor’s appointment, Madison came over to tell me the test came back negative, and she was leaving.”

  “Why would she just leave?”

  “Probably to move on to the next sucker.” He blew his breath downward. “For the longest time, telling me the test was negative didn’t sit right with me. I saw those two pink lines,” he stressed, frustration crowding his forehead. “It didn’t make sense.”

  “Please don’t hate me for asking this . . .” He nodded. “But wouldn’t most men be relieved? You did just say you guys had a scare.”

  “Maybe,” he said guiltily. “I wasn’t in love with her, and she knew that.” I could see how hard this was for him. “I cared about her. But she’s the one who actually looked relieved that day. And now I know why.”

  My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “Like I said, for a while her words didn’t sit right with me.” His eyes turned cold and seemed distant. “Forgive me, but that fucking bitch almost ruined me.”

  “What? How?” I sat on the edge of my seat.

  “A few months after she left, I saw her.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “No. I couldn’t. If I had approached her, seeing that she had obviously lied to me, who knows what I would have done. I mean, she told me she wasn’t pregnant, and then she turns out to be? I had too many questions going through my head. Did she lie because she was torn over the fact that I wasn’t in love with her? Was she trying to make my life a living hell because of it? Did she cheat on me? So much shit . . .” He shook his head, distraught. “So, I got my shit together and hired a private investigator.” He looked at me with worry in his eyes. “I’ve heard one too many horror stories not to. I had to make sure I had all my ducks in a row before I contacted my lawyer.”

  My belly clenched with unease. Sensing the punchline coming, I felt the urge to brace myself.

  Levi stood with his back to me, and he began pacing in front of the glass wall. I sat there stock still, giving him the few minutes he needed to get his thoughts in order, my heart breaking a little in the process for all the heartache he’d endured.

  “Turns out, she had a boyfriend.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed humorlessly. “The one girl I took a chance on, and she tries to fuck me over.”

  “What happened?” I asked softly, afraid of the answer.

  “You have to understand, this messed with me in ways I’ve never imagined. I held on to so much hate, thinking she was using me, and then basically discarded me. Nobody but my sister and Hatch know.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes pleading.

  I nodded in understanding. I’d never betray his trust. “You can trust me.”

  “I reached out to her, asked her to meet me here.” He pointed to the floor. “When she finally showed, I asked her what was going on, why she lied. She flipped the fuck out, went on some tangent, accusing me of all kinds of shit. How I never fought hard enough for her and our baby, and I let her walk out the door that day.”

  “I don’t understand, I thought you said she left you.”

  “She did. That’s why I was so fucking confused. And I’m not a man who’s going to keep a woman prisoner. If she’s unhappy, she has every right to leave.”

  “As it should be, god, Levi, I’m so sorry you had to deal with such an awful person.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, she threatened to take our story to the tabloids. Tip off some fucking reporter if I didn’t help her.”

  “Help her?” I could only imagine how much of a lunatic this woman was.

  “It’s always about the money.” His hand balled into a fist. “Had she succeeded, that would’ve gone over well with the public.” His tone had an edge that caused a shiver to roll up my spine. “By the time I would have been able to clear my name, the damage would’ve been done. The picture would’ve been painted, and the headlines would have held more truth than anything I could have ever said. I would have been seen as guilty, and nothing would have changed their minds, so . . . I paid her to keep quiet.”

  “No,” I gasped.

  “I had to. There was no other choice.”

  I stood and went to him. Laid my palms on his back and pressed my lips between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, truly pained by his admission.

  “It’s not your fault, but thank you.” He reached behind him and brought one of my hands to his front and held it to his chest. “It cost me fifty grand, but what she wasn’t expecting was that before anything happened, she’d have to sign a nondisclosure agreement and agree to a paternity test.”

  “That was smart of you, but what kind of a woman, who claims to be the mother of your child, could do that to the father?”

  “Apparently, someone hard up for cash and not above blackmailing a man with deep pockets.”

  “That is just wrong.” I scoffed. “What happened after that?” I asked carefully. This was such a sensitive subject, even for a man like him—maybe more so for a man like him.

  “Shortly after, my lawyer demanded she get the paternity test as soon as possible. She said she would do it once she had the baby, but he said that was unacceptable. One of the stipulations in the agreement was that the test had to be completed within two weeks or she forfeited any money. And if that happened, we would go straight to the police and report the blackmail.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police from the very beginning?”

  He pulled me to stand in front of him. Pain etched across his handsome face. “I didn’t want anything to be public knowledge. I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was telling the truth.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “What?” I quizzed, my mind completely blown.

  “The baby wasn’t mine,” he deadpanned, and I could only imagine the pain he was feeling dredging up such an awful memory.

  “Oh, Levi, I’m so sorry,” I apologized, biting back the impending tears. How someone could be so cruel and malicious was beyond me.

  “Don’t apologize.” He gripped the back of my head and held it close to his chest. “She knew the entire six months we were together that I wasn’t the father. It was all just some sick ploy to get money from an unsuspecting bastard—”

  “Do not say that. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Doesn’t matter, the damage was done.”

  “Have you had any contact with her since?”

  “No. Last I heard she moved to Wyoming or some shit with her sister.”

  “Good.”

  “Smartest thing she ever did. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever ran into her again.”

  For her sake, I hope she never steps foot back in Georgia. I mulled over his confession, feeling horrible for what happened to him. How someone could be so calculating and manipulative was beyond me, but after putting two and two together, and going back to our earlier conversation, his reaction hit a nerve.

  “Levi”—my voice was soft—“I’m so sorry that happened to you. What she did was unforgivable, but you have to realize I’m not her,” I said carefully, a tad bit afraid his resurfaced anger would be redirected toward me. “I’m not Madison, and I would never do something like that to you. I would never deceive you the way she did.”

  His chuckle sounded bitter.

  I pulled back a bit, my brows knitted, confused at this reaction.

  He shook his h
ead, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

  “No.” I stepped out of his hold. “Tell me.”

  “Well . . .” I could see the questions passing through his weary brown orbs. “You did lie to me when we first met.”

  Greg.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “A lie of omission is still a lie.”

  “Omitting the fact that I knew Greg is not a lie.” I rolled my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, willing myself to calm down. He just shared a horrible piece of his past and I had to remind myself that he might be feeling the residual effects of it.

  “You more than knew Greg.”

  “Yes, I knew Greg, but technically he wasn’t my stepfather yet.”

  I wasn’t forthcoming when we first met and then slept together, but one-night stands do not require full disclosure. Had we agreed to see each other again, I would have brought it up, but we hadn’t.

  “You and your technicalities.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, irritated.

  “Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “No. I won’t forget you said anything,” I lipped. And why was he picking a fight with me? “You know what—”

  “What?” He stood, towering over me, but I would not let myself be intimidated by this man. Regardless of how much I liked him. And hated cutting our time together short.

  “Maybe this was a mistake.” I couldn’t look in his eyes. The second the words left my mouth, I wondered if saying it was an even bigger mistake.

  His left hand balled into a fist. “You don’t believe that.”

  “Maybe I do.” What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, and before things got out of hand, I caved. “I’d like to go home, please.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Levi

  I was ready to take another practice swing when I just so happened to glance over my shoulder at McCoy drumming out a beat on the bucket of Big League Chew. Duck was doing an odd hokey-pokey two-step number, and Sochi joined in with some robotic hand motion crap. All for the sake of bringing our good juju back.