She threw back her head and laughed. “Sold.”
Travis ordered another coffee after she left. He didn’t have anything to rush home to and maybe Mal would be answering her phone by now. But when he called, it went to voice mail again.
He turned his attention to the early season baseball game on TV and chatted to the bartender who was finally able to catch her breath after the morning rush. “You’re friends with Owen,” she said as she wiped the bar, her eyes scanning to make sure no one required her services.
“Guilty as charged. I’m Travis.”
“Stef.” She held out her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Stef.” She was good at what she did, smooth and friendly, but Travis noted she was ready to respond to a customer’s need almost instantly. “I’m actually going to be opening my own place soon.”
“Whereabouts?” She wiped the bar down.
“Gastown. In a couple of months. If you know anyone looking, I’ll be hiring soon.”
“I’ll pass the word along.”
“I’ll also be looking for a bar manager. If you’re interested.”
Stef paused in her wipe-down to look at him. Her eyes flicked past him. “I appreciate the offer, but I have a job.”
Travis had a sudden prickling sensation along the back of his neck. “Owen’s standing behind me, isn’t he?”
“Yep.”
Owen cleared his throat. “I cannot believe you’re trying to poach my employees.”
Julia joined them and poked Owen in the shoulder. “You mean how you poached Stef from me.” She turned to Stef. “I still haven’t decided if I’ve forgiven you.” She poked Owen again. “You either.”
Travis caught Stef’s eye and said, “You could leave all this behind...”
“She’s not leaving.” Owen bellied up to the bar and flashed Stef his best smile. “You’d never leave me in the lurch, would you, Stef?”
She lifted one shoulder and looked at Travis. “What’s the pay? I have student loans to think about.”
Owen slapped a palm on the bar. “Fine. You get a raise.” He slapped the same palm on Travis’s shoulder. “And you’re coming with us. Before I end up with no staff.”
Travis checked over his shoulder and saw Donovan and Grace settling into a booth, but his eyes barely skimmed across them before stopping on Mal. She was slipping into the curved bench seat beside the pair, her skirt sliding up her legs and exposing all that smooth pink skin. He swallowed and allowed Owen to steer him over to the large booth. It would be rude to refuse to join the Fords.
“Look who I found.” Owen proudly announced their arrival and then ducked down to give his wife a kiss.
“Travis. What a lovely surprise.” Grace was effortlessly, eternally polite, always overlaying it with a warmth that added sincerity. She rose to give him a quick hug. Donovan shook his hand while everyone sorted out their seats until the only person he hadn’t officially greeted was Mal. Not that he was standing on ceremony.
He slid in beside her, her scent filling his head. “Hi.”
“Hello.” The word was careful, as was her gaze, which met his only briefly before returning to her lap. She clasped her hands together.
He leaned down so his lips were nearly on her ear. “I thought you were working this morning.”
“I was.” She smiled up at him. He felt the butterflies Sara had mentioned flutter through him and he wanted to kiss her. Who cared that her family was here, not to mention half the city? “I still am.”
“This is work?” Travis looked around to find four interested gazes turned his way. Great. Now they were entertainment, and apparently rather humorous as the four of them were smiling. He smiled back. “Are Evelyn and Gus coming?”
“No, they don’t know we’re meeting.” Donovan’s head swiveled to the door as though, just by mentioning it, he might have summoned them. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it, either.”
Julia snorted. “Yes, Donovan. Because the first thing he’s going to do is call them and report that he saw us.” Donovan grinned and kissed his wife hard.
Owen groaned. “Stop. We’re in public.”
“Like that’s ever stopped you?” Julia tugged Donovan’s arm around her shoulder.
“No, but I can pull it off. I’m charming.” Owen jerked a thumb at Donovan. “This guy? Not so much.”
“He has charm you don’t appreciate.” Julia was grinning.
“That’s right.” Donovan looked plenty pleased with himself and not at all annoyed by Owen’s teasing. It surprised Travis. “You’re no longer the only charming Ford, Owen.”
“Yeah, but I’m still the most charming.”
“I think that might be up for discussion,” Grace murmured, which caused Owen to laugh.
Travis looked at Mal, delighted to be included in the family gathering and even more delighted to find her watching him with a slightly puzzled expression. He leaned closer. “Everything okay?” He spoke quietly while the good-natured joking continued at the table.
“Fine.” She flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know.” He studied her. She looked good, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. He wanted to run his hands through it, rub the slippery strands between his fingers. She loved it when he stroked her hair. Maybe he could do it casually so no one would notice. He stretched his arm around the back of the booth, hovering just above Mal’s shoulders. “So why are you all out for brunch this morning?”
The Fords were a close family, but their get-togethers generally happened later in the day, over dinner, since for so many years one or another of them was involved in the day-to-day operations of the family holdings, which meant they’d been up late working the night before.
“Anniversary.” Mal leaned back so his hand brushed against her shoulder. “My parents have been married forty years this June.”
“And still in love.” Travis curled a finger, catching a tress of Mal’s hair, feeling the silky strands slip against his skin.
“They are. Which is something to celebrate.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and for Travis the moment was fraught with meaning. He’d once been so certain that he and Mal would celebrate many happy years of marriage, that their kids might one day plan and hold an anniversary party for them.
Then she looked away, a light flush on her cheeks, which caused Travis to wonder if her thoughts had been at all dissimilar from his own. “We’re planning.”
“And doling out jobs,” Owen announced.
Mal nodded. “So no one would be offended if you made an excuse and skipped out.”
Like hell. Travis reached over with his other hand to touch her arm. “I’d like to stay.”
He saw the bob of her throat. She didn’t pull her hand away. “Okay. But if you don’t like the task you get assigned, remember that you had your opportunity to bolt.”
Travis lowered his arm so that it no longer hovered over her shoulders but rested on them. He waited until she looked at him, those huge dark eyes focused on him as though he was the only person in the world. Then he bent his head so no one else could hear. “I’m not going anywhere, Mal. I’m here to stay. Forever.”
Her eyes flicked down at his last word, but only for a moment. She looked back. “I’m beginning to think you mean that.”
He leaned forward and put his lips right up to her ear. He heard her short inhalation of breath, felt the curve of her body against his. “I do mean it.”
She turned her head. Their lips were mere millimeters from meeting, her hand still clasped his and the moment was right.
“All right.” Owen slapped his hands on the table. “I officially call this meeting to order and name myself president.”
And suddenly the moment
wasn’t so right. But Travis didn’t mind. He would find another moment. Or make one. Whatever it took. “I call vice president,” he said, knowing job titles would go fast and he didn’t want to be left with last pick.
And suddenly everyone was calling for positions, each one more grandiose than the last until they were all satisfied.
“As president of festivities, I now declare this meeting is in session.” Owen tapped his finger against the side of his glass.
The rest of them—CEO of planning, global director of dessert and beverages, executive financier, prom committee head and vice president of scouting—all straightened to attention. Or pretended to.
“Our first order of business, location. Who’s got ideas? Go.”
“I think Elephants is an obvious choice,” Donovan said.
“And that’s why you’re executive financier. Next?”
Julia laughed while Donovan shook his head.
“What about my place?” Travis offered.
“That apartment is still mine,” Owen pointed out. “At best, you’d be deemed a squatter.”
“He means his bar,” Mal explained.
“Oh, I like that idea.” Grace, aka CEO of planning, jumped in. Travis assumed that everyone else then turned to listen to her. But he couldn’t be sure, as he was still looking at Mal and she was looking back.
She was giving him the secret smile that said they’d joke about this later, that for the next couple of months, whenever the opportunity arose, she’d call him a squatter and he’d have some witty response that would make them both laugh. And a year from now, when the joke had passed its best-before date, something would happen and they’d both make the joke and then appreciate how nice it was to be with someone who got you.
Travis reached for her hand with the one that wasn’t currently playing with her hair, wrapped his fingers around hers and just enjoyed the connection while the hum of conversation went on around them. The dynamic rise and fall of voices as ideas were suggested and thrown out or expanded on, the burst of laughter when something was particularly humorous. He only had eyes for Mal, and their eyes never left each other, their bodies shifted to fit against each other until there was no space left between them.
Travis declined the invite to attend the family dinner that night at Gus and Evelyn’s, even though he wanted to say yes. Mal had promised to call him later and he really did need to work on his plans for the bar if he was going to have it finished in time for both the charity event and the anniversary party.
He told himself not to get too excited about his inclusion on the anniversary party planning. But it was hard not to. Hard not to feel that things were falling into place.
His thoughts on the bar were coming together nicely, too. After reviewing the proposals from three contractors, he placed them in order and made a call to the one at the top of his list. He didn’t expect anyone to answer, but after looking things over, he knew this was the one he wanted to work with and he didn’t want to wait another minute to offer him the job. He was thrilled when not only did the contractor answer, but he happily accepted the job and suggested he could have a crew in place to begin work on Wednesday.
Deal in place, Travis suddenly felt edgy. Maybe eager was a better word. He wanted to share the news, to celebrate. But the only person he wanted to celebrate with was at a family dinner and he wasn’t about to crash that. He glanced at the clock, then out the window at the darkening sky.
The Fords would be finished eating, probably still sitting around the table, laughing, sharing and bonding. They’d be leaving soon, the children and their spouses returning to their own little nests of shared living. All except Mal—she’d be going home alone.
Travis saw no reason why she shouldn’t have her own partner to come home to. He scooped up his keys, not bothering with a coat. He was too warm, too primed, for another layer. And it was just one more layer between him and Mal— layers he was doing his best to peel away. No point in adding to the mix unnecessarily.
The cool evening air slid around him. He barely felt it. Or maybe he didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want anything to talk him out of his idea or his mission of winning back Mallory Ford.
He was out of breath by the time he reached her building, but that was less about the cold and the fact that he’d pretty much run the entire way there, and more that this felt big. Bigger than the other times he’d visited. Bigger than signing up to help with the charity event or lend a hand with her parents’ anniversary party.
Travis punched in the code for her apartment. If she didn’t answer, he’d just wait. There was the coffee place down the block that was open until midnight. He didn’t need to worry.
“Travis.” She’d clearly checked the closed-circuit camera before answering. Her voice curled around him.
Before he even got a chance to say anything he heard the click of the building’s door, the buzz announcing that she was granting him access. He hoped it was to more than just her building.
It took less than a minute to ride the elevator to her floor. She was waiting for him, standing in the door frame of her apartment. He could see every breath she took, the steady rise and fall of her chest and the slow blink of her eyes. The way she looked at him through her lashes. Adrenaline flooded his system. This was how it was supposed be. Them. Together.
Travis walked faster. He didn’t say anything. And when he reached the door, he reached for Mal, cupping her face in his hands. Her eyes fluttered shut, the black lashes a sharp contrast to her pale skin. But he didn’t kiss her, not even when her lips seemed to instinctively pout at him, begging him for his touch.
“Mal?” His voice was a whisper. A barely there question that shimmered between them.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He felt their connection like a jolt. “You came.” As if she hadn’t been sure.
“Always.” He’d always come back for her.
“I want to believe that.”
“Then believe it.” He walked her backward into the apartment, still holding her face. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”
She lifted her hands to rest on top of his. “I know.”
Travis heard the “but,” even though she didn’t say it, and he didn’t fill it in for her. “I love you.” He heard her breath catch, felt the hitch in her step. “You know that, too, don’t you?”
Mal just stared at him, and for a second Travis feared she was going to say no. That he’d pushed a little too soon. That he’d scared her. Then she nodded. Slowly. “I do.”
Sweet relief spilled through him. “I love you.” Because he had to say it again. He pushed the door shut with his foot. The click seemed to be a final point, a sign that they were moving forward and putting the past behind them, behind that closed door where it would no longer peek out at them, sticking its fingers where they didn’t belong.
He kissed her, lifting her to her toes so she was pressed against him. She slipped her hands along his, down his arms, exploring their length before looping her arms close behind his neck.
Travis flicked the lock closed on her front door and then carried her into the bedroom. It was a long time before he finally caught his breath enough to tell her the good news about hiring a contractor.
* * *
MAL FOUND HERSELF smiling at the oddest moments. When she was reviewing the details for the charity event. When her mom asked if she preferred chicken or pork for Sunday dinner. When the Pilates instructor took them into Side Twist on the Mat, which was no Open Leg Rocker. But mostly when she thought of Travis, which was always, hence the random smiling.
“You seem happy,” Grace said as they left the gym together, entering the sunshiny morning.
Mal blinked, surprised. She was happy, but she didn’t think—random smiling aside—that she was behaving all that differently in general. “I
am happy. Things are good.”
Grace looked at her as they paused on the street corner, waiting for the light to change. The traffic rushed by, cars, trucks, cyclists and pedestrians. “Things with Travis?”
“That’s part of it.” She wouldn’t lie and say that their newly realized relationship wasn’t part of her cheerful attitude, but it was more than her relationship with him. She felt like a complete person, a full package.
“Sparrow would say you seem self-actualized. Growing into your full potential. It looks good on you.”
A light blush of pleasure warmed Mal’s cheeks. “It feels good.” But then everything did these day. The way her rain shower head beat down, massaging her shoulders, the way food tasted, how both the charity event and her parents’ anniversary party were coming together so easily. Maybe she was just in a better place to appreciate things these days. She supposed it didn’t matter why, just that it was.
It was also the way she was trying to treat this newfound connection with Travis. It wasn’t the same as before. It could never be the same, but that didn’t mean it was better or worse. Simply different. As they were both different.
“I’m glad you gave him a chance.”
“Me, too.” They stepped off the curb together, crossing to the opposite side of the street and entering the small, cheerful café that catered to the gym crowd. Along with coffee of every size, flavor and calorie, they offered eggs, quinoa salads, kefir smoothies and other meal choices designed specifically to thank your body after a hard workout.
The café smelled of roast coffee and fresh pastries, which filled a glass case at the front. Mal eyed them as they passed, promising herself a raspberry tart for completing the Side Twist on the Mat without even complaining in her head.
“So, you worked out what happened before?” Grace asked as they settled at a table in the corner. Neither of them bothered picking up the menus since they always ordered the same things.
Mal felt a little hiccup in the region of her chest, but she breathed through it. “We did.” Which wasn’t entirely true—they just hadn’t talked about it. But he’d said he loved her and although she hadn’t replied aloud, she knew her actions told him she felt the same. And they’d talked about why he’d hidden their breakup from his family, which was a start. But they didn’t need to talk about the reasons behind their breakup or why she still wouldn’t let him pleasure her orally, right? She was okay and he was okay, so they were okay.
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