Her sweet giggle fills this usually lonely room, and I have to make this her home. This place needs her positive energy. After everything she went through this summer, she still grins and truly feels the happiness behind it.
She’s shimmying out of her snug jeans when we hear her phone ringing in the other room.
“Ignore it,” she says. Once her pants are completely off, it rings again, and the second her teeth dig into her bottom lip, I know she wants to answer it.
I dart to the living room and run back carrying her purse. Fishing it out, she says it’s her mom and answers.
“Mom, is everything OK? … Where are you? … Sure, I’ll pick you up in a few minutes. Go back into the store to wait.”
She hangs up and pouts. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. Mom broke down at the drugstore, and she thinks Dad fell asleep since he’s not answering the phone. She’s leaving her car there until morning, but I have to give her a ride home.”
“It sucks I can’t make you feel good.”
“I’ll take a rain check.”
“Will you collect on it Friday evening?” I ask with a mischievous grin.
“Maybe.”
“Cool. I’ll go help your mom, too. I may be able to get her car running.” I’m reaching to the floor for my briefs and jeans when a thought comes to mind. “Wait, would your mom be upset to see us together?”
Becca frowns, and as soon as she’s done zipping up her jeans, she circles her arms around my waist.
“Travis, my parents have never not liked you. After the accident, Mom admitted they thought we were too young to move in together, but they’ve always liked you, and they were friendly with you at Thanksgiving.”
“I thought they were only being polite because they had to see me, but still, I imagine they’d prefer you end up with someone like Clay.”
“They haven’t even met him, and I don’t think that’s the life they want for me.”
She touches my cheek. “They apologized for having an ulterior motive behind the trip. The accident gave them a different perspective on what’s important in life, and they would support us being together. I’m sure of it.”
Relieved that her parents aren’t an obstacle in getting her back, I grin. It’s also awesome they haven’t met Clay. “Then let’s go get her car started.”
Becca
“This ad is superb, Becca,” Everett says. “If this doesn’t bring in business, nothing will.” He’s leaning over his desk, staring at the image on my laptop.
A grin in me wants to surface, but self-doubt shoves it back down. “Are you sure? I can make the bike look more geared for established bikers if that’s what you’d prefer, but since you said you wanted to gain new customers, I thought this may work.”
“Are you kidding? This idea is epic. A dark tan bike with a forest scene … I love it. And the big bass and eagle painted on it are going to catch the eye of every fisherman out there.
“They’re going to wonder if they’re missing out not owning a motorcycle, and they’ll be thinking about the designs they’d want personalized on it. On top of that, existing bikers are going to see this and imagine how they can personalize theirs.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Travis’s wooden sculptures inspired me.”
Finally pulling his eyes away from the screen, they tilt up at me.
“You did this, Becca. You thought to put it on the bike, and it’s still different, but that news only makes me love it more … if that’s even possible.”
I swat my hand toward him. “Oh, now you’re just being nice.”
“Sarge!” Everett shouts. “Come in here for a minute!”
“I don’t know if it’s ready to show anyone else—”
“Hell, yes, it’s ready. Be proud of this. I think I better be giving you a raise so you don’t jump ship on me.”
“What are you in here shoutin’ about?” Sarge asks. “Becca, is he being his grumpy self?”
I snicker. “No, he’s in a good mood today.”
“Look at this design Becca made. We’re putting it on as many billboards as possible.”
Sarge steps around Ev’s desk and leans over to look at it. Expressionless, he studies it for seconds that feel like hours. A slow grin spreads from his lips.
“Hot damn, that’s the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Rebecca, you were thinking outside the box with this one.”
I smile. He’s the only one around here who calls me by my full name.
“Exactly,” Ev replies. “I could never see past the typical black bike looking sleek and badass, with flames and all, but this is something fresh that will catch the eye. Hell, we’ll probably have to hire more artists to paint once this comes out.”
“What’s with all the commotion?” Reese asks as she enters Ev’s office.
“Babe, check out this design Becca created. It’s going on billboards all over the city.”
For a solid fifteen minutes, they compliment me on my work, and by the end I am feeling proud. Hearing my sister’s praise for my talent is better than any physical gift I could receive.
Ev walks around his desk with my laptop in his hands.
“Care if I go show this to the guys in the shop?” He’s heading toward the door, with Sarge following behind, so I don’t think I have a say so in the matter.
“Sure, go ahead.” I’m giggling from his excited, boyish behavior.
“Good job, sis.”
“Thank you. Travis’s artwork was my inspiration.”
“I noticed that, but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the guys. When are you telling Clay about him? You know you have to, Becs.”
I look to the door. “I’m telling him tomorrow.”
“Are you not going to see him anymore?”
“No, I’m only telling him I’m spending time with Travis.”
“You’re not sure who you want to be with.”
“Not yet. I’ve hardly been getting time with Clay since he’s traveling so much.”
“You know, that’s only going to get worse. He’ll always be a busy man.”
“I’m aware of that. I guess you’re not staying neutral about this any longer,” I say curtly.
“I’m sorry, but it’s hard when I haven’t met Clay to see you interact with him, and the fact you haven’t wanted me to meet him speaks volumes.”
“I need to hunt down my computer. I’ll see you later.” Hurrying down the hallway, I recall telling Travis that Clay had never met my folks. Now, Reese has mentioned how she’s never met Clay.
I’ve known him for over two months and still have no desire to take him around my family. If I’m honest, I haven’t done it because it’s a sign of commitment. Reese was right; that does speak volumes.
When I reach the front of the store, I veer right to go into the shop, but Travis calls for me from the counter.
I stroll over to him, feeling anxious the entire way.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re lying. I know each of your expressions.”
I scowl. “Yeah, I guess you do, don’t you?”
He holds his hands up. “Hey, what did I do?”
Huffing out a breath, I find a smile.
“I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. I have a lot on my mind is all.”
“Are you going to collect on your rain check tonight?” He’s grinning, and I feel like shit for having to shatter his hope.
“No, and I’m sorry. I’m seeing Clay tomorrow to tell him about you, so it doesn’t feel right to be with you tonight.”
Watching his grin vacate the premises, I reach across the counter and squeeze his hand.
“Look, it’d be easy for me to get carried away with you, and I can’t do that and keep a clean conscience.”
Everett approaches us with my laptop, and he’s still peppy like his favorite team won a championship.
“Travis, you and Franklin have to see thi
s.”
I lunge toward him and grab hold of my computer.
“Oh, I don’t think they’d be interested.”
“Of course he’d want to see it. You need to be proud of your work, Becca.” Ev won’t let up on his grip. I’m going to lose this tug-of-war, so I release it and sigh.
Setting it on the counter, Ev turns it so Travis can see. He stares at it for a few seconds before he takes a glimpse at me. He doesn’t smile. Instead, he appears emotional.
“That’s impressive, and like Ev said, you should be proud.” He looks to Franklin, who’s standing nearby. “Link, come check out this design Becca made.”
Without another glance my way, Travis goes back to working. I’m dying to know what he truly thinks about my design, but seeing how I’ve already bummed him out this afternoon, I figure it best to leave him alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Becca
“I might vomit,” I mumble as I wait by the door at my house. It’s Saturday at noon, and Clay will be pulling in the driveway any minute.
He made me pack a bag. I resisted, making excuses, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I packed it, but I imagine as soon as I tell him about Travis, or that I won’t sleep with him, he’ll bring me home.
I cover my aching stomach and battle the hyperventilation I feel coming on. A sleek black car comes in to sight and pulls up in my driveway.
Who’s that?
Clay exits the back seat and starts toward the door. He’s casually dressed in dark jeans, a cream sweater, and a tan blazer. This is casual for Clay, anyway.
I grab my small suitcase off the floor and hurry outside. He stops and pushes his black glasses up his nose.
“I was going to say hi to your parents.”
“Oh, they’re out grocery shopping. What’s with the vehicle?”
“We need a ride to our destination.” Once we’re close enough, he pulls me against him and gives me a long kiss.
“I’ve missed you this week. It was a long and hectic one.” He takes my bag from me, and I follow him to the car. It’s nice, and I sink into the soft leather seat.
“Glenn, this is Becca. Becca, this is my driver, Glenn.”
I see his smile in the visor mirror before he’s looking back to the road. He’s an older gentleman, his hair white as snow, and speaking of snow … I stare at it coming down outside the window.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To the airport.”
I jerk my head Clay’s direction.
“We’re taking a trip?”
“Yes. I’m taking you to D.C.”
“You can’t spring something like this on me. It’s a big deal.” Clay takes hold of my chin.
“Becca, calm down. You might not be used to this kind of treatment, but it doesn’t make it wrong. You told me you were free all weekend, so let me spoil you.”
I huff and lean back against the seat. My palms are pushing into it, and all I can think about is how furious Travis would be to know I’m leaving town with Clay. The anxiety attack slithers over me. My head is dizzy, and I’m sweating.
Clay grazes a hand over my hair.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea you were afraid of flying. We’ll be in first class, so that should help some. I will get you a drink and pillow. I promise to make you comfortable.”
First class. Of course.
Continually stroking my hair, he’s his sweet self, fogging up my brain with confusion and making the lightheadedness worse.
He hasn’t shown me a single flaw, and I like him, but I don’t know if I could ever love him more than I love Travis.
“We need to talk,” I say. His phone rings, so he pulls it from the pocket of his blazer and looks at the screen.
“This is work related. Can we talk at the airport?”
“No problem.” While he converses, I lean my head back and close my eyes. Images of dinner with Travis earlier in the week encroach upon my mind. OK, me on my knees with his dick in my mouth is what I’m really picturing.
The guilt I feel for both of them is eating at my insides. I want to throw up, and I need out of this car. What the hell am I going to do?
***
I’m still ill as we wait to board the plane. Clay returns with a bottled water for me, his concern etched across his forehead.
“Were you feeling bad before I picked you up?”
“No. I’m nervous. I have to tell you something, and you’re going to get upset, and the last thing I’d ever intend to do is hurt you.” I grab his hand and hold it in mine. The airport is noisy, and I’m grateful for that.
“If after I tell you this, you want me to leave, I will. I’ll even take a taxi home.”
“What the hell, Becca? How bad is it?” he asks with a touch of irritation.
“I’ve spent some time with my ex-boyfriend Travis.”
He swipes his hand away and slides it over his silky dark hair.
“Be more specific. What does that mean?” His irritation is coated with bitterness, and I want to crawl inside myself.
“I’ve discovered I still have feelings for him, but I also have them for you. I’m confused as to what I want, so I spent some time with him, trying to sort it out.”
“And what conclusion have you reached?”
“I’m still unsure, but if I’m honest, I have strong feelings for him.”
“Have you slept with him since you met me?”
“No …,” my head turns, “but we have done some things.” He jumps to his feet, so I grab his forearm. “Clay, wait. Please let’s talk.”
“Becca, let go of me. I need a minute alone.” He wanders off, and I’m pummeled with shame. Needing to talk to someone, I swipe away my tears and grab my phone to text Reese.
Me: Clay surprised me with a trip to D.C., so I told him about Travis. He said he needed to be alone, so I’m sitting at a gate at the airport. What do I do??
Reese: Shit. I guess all you can do is wait. Let me know what happens.
Me: I feel guilty. Travis and I have kissed … and stuff. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it felt right.
Reese: And now you’re at the airport with another man….
Me: Thanks, sis. That makes me feel so much better.
Reese: Sorry. You have to decide soon, Becs. Now that you’ve messed around with Travis, this all seems wrong.
I stare at her text, and another one comes through.
Reese: I love you and will be here for you no matter what.
Seeing Clay coming, I toss my phone inside my bag. He takes the spot next to me and stares ahead. My foot is tapping, and I’m wringing my hands.
“Clay, say something.”
“I think I already love you.”
With my elbows resting on my knees, I lean over and bury my face in my hands. I want to cry hard, but it’s all I’ve done since July. I refuse to do so in this busy airport, so I sit back up and entwine our hands.
“I can’t say it back right now, but I care for you deeply.”
He shifts to face me, and the anger from before is absent in his hazel eyes. They’re sad and hold the same desperation I saw in Travis’s this week.
“Do you still want to spend time with me?”
“I do.”
“Then I want to take you to D.C. You need to experience the life we could live together. It’s richer than any he could ever give you.”
Richer … What is Clay Carlton’s idea of richer?
“OK. Thank you for giving me a chance to figure this out.”
“I’d take you home if I didn’t love you, but I do. That leaves me no choice other than to fight for you.”
Travis
“Where do you want to eat?” I ask Link once he closes the passenger door to my truck. It’s late afternoon on Saturday.
“I don’t care. Wings sound good but …”
I take a glance at him. “But what?”
“There’s a bar at our usual place.”
“We don’t ha
ve to sit at the bar, and alcohol is served at most restaurants, anyway.”
“Man, I don’t know. Your brothers might get pissed at me.”
“I’m a grown-ass man, and I’m telling you I can handle it. End of story.”
“Damn, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Look, I’m on edge because of Becca, but I’ll try not to take it out on you.”
“I thought things were going good with her.”
“They are, or they were, but she’s with Clay today, telling him about us. Not knowing what the outcome will be is driving me crazy.
“On one hand, I hope the news pisses him off and he ends things with her, but on the other, I don’t want that to happen because I have to know I’m not just leftovers to her.”
“That makes sense.”
“Anyway, I won’t bring her up again tonight.” I glance over at him.
“When are you gettin’ a girlfriend?”
“I’d have to find a girl who wants me first.”
“I don’t get it. You’re not an ugly dude, you’re the smartest guy I know, and you’re nice to chicks.”
Link throws a finger out toward me.
“That word. Nice. I fuckin’ hate that word. Every girl I go out with will seem into me at first, and then after a date or two, they say I’m nice. I’ve become that guy. The friend guy.”
I snicker, so he punches me in the arm.
“Some girl will come around and appreciate nice.”
“A woman who’s forty maybe, but not one who’s twenty. They want an asshole, and I’m not wired that way.”
“No, they want a confident guy. You need to think more highly of yourself. Anyway, let’s go enjoy some hot wings, watch the game, and get chicks off our brain.”
***
Link and I have put away an insane amount of wings and fries. Our table is crowded with dirty napkins and empty red plastic baskets the food came in. I might’ve overcompensated for not drinking by eating way too much.
Link swears he’s fine with not drinking, too, but as he stares off at the football game on one of the wall-mounted televisions, I feel kinda bad he doesn’t have a beer in his hand.
Although, maybe it’s better he drinks less. He doesn’t need to end up in a mess similar to the one I created, and we know that shit runs in the family.
Fail to Trust (The Casteel Trust Series Book 2) Page 17
