“I like fireworks.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bubbles seem kind of lame and birdseed isn’t very exciting. I think fireworks would be cool.”
She smiled. “Me, too.” Excitement leapt into her eyes. “The fourth of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. Aunt Tootie used to take me to the park and we’d stretch out on a blanket and watch the fireworks.”
He had a quick vision of a small, blond-haired girl in pigtails, lying flat on her back on a gingham blanket, her eyes reflecting the spray of fireworks. His chest hitched.
“It sounds nice.” So much that the vision quickly shifted and he saw the two of them, hands intertwined, staring up at the brilliantly lit sky.
They fell into a comfortable silence for the next few moments until he asked, “Is that what you had planned when you were engaged? A spray of fireworks?”
Her head snapped up as if he’d tapped some deep, dark secret, but then her expression eased. “I guess it was just a matter of time until you heard the gossip. Hazards of a small town, right?” She shrugged. “Don’t I wish. But Chad—my fiancé at the time— hated fireworks. He had a roman candle backfire when he was a kid and he never got over it.”
“So what did he want?”
“I don’t really know.” She shook her head. “He didn’t help in any part of the wedding planning. He said it was a girl thing and to just do what I wanted— with the exception of the fireworks, of course. But it was his wedding, too. I wanted to do what he wanted.” She laughed, but there was a sadness in the sound that made his chest tighten. “Turns out, he wanted not to be married.” She shrugged. “At least I figured it out before we actually said ‘I Do.’”
“Did you love him?”
“He was a great guy. Nice-looking. Good job. Liked animals.”
“But did you love him?” Travis persisted.
“I agreed to marry him, didn’t I?”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s a dumb question. If you agree to marry someone, of course you love them.”
“That or you love the idea of being in love.”
The minute he said the words, she wanted to refute them but nothing came to her lips.
Because he was right.
The realization hit her as she sat there stuffing birdseed roses, Travis sitting so close, his gaze so intent that she felt as if he could see all the things inside of her that even she couldn’t see.
But Travis could. He saw inside her thoughts, to her deepest darkest feelings. How she’d wanted so badly to be the one in her family to break the cycle. To fall in love and live happily ever after like the proverbial fairy tale.
It was a silly notion. Travis didn’t believe in fairy tales and he sure as hell didn’t believe in the whole one man/one woman. Particularly since he was only a shell of a man now. But sitting there, staring into her soft eyes, feeling the contentment seeping through him, damned if he wasn’t starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Cody and Brent were a damned sight smarter than he was giving them credit for.
“So where’s this guy now?” he asked, eager to kill the sudden silence. His brothers were playing with fire by thinking for even a second that they could be happy. It was just a matter of time until the whole thing went down in a smoldering mess.
“Married to someone else.” She laughed, but there was a sadness in the sound that made his chest tighten. “It turns out he didn’t have an aversion to getting married. Just an aversion to getting married to me.” She stiffened. “But all’s well that ends well. I’ve got a great career and now all I have to do is move my personal life in the right direction. So what about you? Have you ever been engaged?”
“Once. A long, long time ago. But it didn’t work out. We were too different.”
“At least you both realized it before it was too late.”
“I did, but she wasn’t so lucky.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“After the breakup, she committed suicide.” Travis wasn’t sure why he told her. He shouldn’t have, but the softness in her gaze compelled him and damned if he could help himself. “She killed herself because of me.” He’d thought those words many times, but he’d never said them out loud to anyone. He’d never wanted to. Until now.
Until Holly.
He waited for her to turn horrified eyes on him, to order him out of her house because he was such a despicable person. Instead, she shook her head and stared at him, her gaze sympathetic. “People don’t commit suicide because of someone else. They commit suicide because they’re weak. I should know. I’ve spent enough time watching my mother destroy herself, quote—over someone else—end quote, when it’s really not their fault, but hers. While my Aunt Tootie refuses to ever get married, my mom refuses to give up on it. She thinks if she finds someone who loves her, it will make her love herself. But it doesn’t work, because at the end of the day, she’s still the same person. Needy. Dependent. Insecure. She gets so wrapped up in a man, so determined to ignore all her shortcomings, that the breakup is a devastating eye-opener and she can’t deal with it. After number one, she started drinking. Number two sent her into a bottle of Prozac and lots of therapy. Three and four pushed her into prescription pain meds and five sent her on a six month sabbatical with a religious zealot who worships a ceramic turtle. She’s about to marry a guy she met at one of the revivals. She’ll probably end up on an episode of Cult Intervention after this one.”
“Or the sixth time could be a charm and actually work out.”
Her tense expression eased into a grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a romantic streak buried deep down inside of all that sex appeal.”
“It’s called practical. She’s already been through the worst. The odds are in her favor for a good outcome.” His gaze met hers. “And there you go, making a pass at me when I’m on my best behavior.”
“I’m not making a pass at you.”
“You said I had sex appeal.”
“That’s not a pass.” She shrugged. “It’s a fact.” They fell into silence for a few moments and he knew she struggled with the push-pull of emotion rising inside her. Right versus wrong. Crazy versus common sense. Lust versus love. “A pass would be if I touched you or kissed you. I haven’t done either one of those things.” And I won’t.
Determination gleamed hot and bright in her gaze and he knew the emotional battle was over. Common sense had won and disappointment ricocheted through him. Still, Travis wasn’t about to be put off.
“But you want to,” he persisted.
“All I want is for you to pretend to be my boy toy when we’re out in public. You’re the one who wants sex.”
“And you don’t want it at all? Not even a little bit?”
He watched her struggle a bit more before she found her courage.
“What I really want is to finish these birdseed roses before midnight.” She shifted her attention to the task at hand, as if she weren’t this close to launching herself at him and kissing him senseless.
She was.
He saw the truth in the trembling of her hands and the quivering of her bottom lip. Felt it in the heat radiating from her luscious body.
She wanted it, but she didn’t want to want it.
It wasn’t enough. Not yet.
“What are you doing?” she blurted when he reached across and stroked the smooth inside of her leg.
“Making a pass.” He caught her lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue plunging deep, stroking and tasting until she moaned into his mouth. His gut twisted and the beast stirred and it was all he could do to tear his mouth from hers.
And then he got the hell out of there before he gave in to the hunger that urged him to forget his pride and simply feed.
That day was coming, he knew. He could only hope that Holly made her move first and ended the deprivation. Otherwise, Travis was going to find himself well past the breaking point. And he feared that once he reached
for her, he wouldn’t be able to stop until he’d tasted her completely.
Her body and her blood.
14
IT WAS ALMOST nine o’clock when Holly finally opened her eyes the next morning. She took one look at the clock and panic bolted through her. She raced for the bathroom and had just stepped into a hot shower when she heard Aunt Tootie’s voice over the answering machine.
“Rise and shine. It’s a beautiful morning.”
Wait a second.
She wiped at the soap dripping into her eyes and peeked past the shower curtains at the clock hanging on the wall.
Eight fifty-two. In the morning.
At the best of times, Aunt Tootie didn’t roll out of bed until noon. Especially after tying one on with a platter of hot wings and several beers to wash them down. Even when she wasn’t out the night before, she liked to sleep in.
“You don’t stay looking as hot as me all these years without getting plenty of shut-eye.”
Holly snatched up a towel, her hair still dripping with soap, and rushed for the phone.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Good morning to you, too,” Tootie said. “And I’m as right as rain.”
“You do know what time it is, don’t you?”
“’Course I do. I been up since seven. Listen, I need a lift to Bingo tonight.”
“Isn’t Bingo for blue-haired ladies who have nothing better to do?”
“Bingo is a game for all ages. Besides, if you win three pots in a row, you go into a drawing for a singles cruise. That’s what Buck said.”
“Buck? The Buck Gentry? I thought you hated his guts.”
“I do, but it’s not like I could throw a wing in his face just for telling me about bingo. Besides, he was there alone and I was there alone and it seemed pretty damned silly for us to eat at separate tables. Do you know he likes the chile lime wings, too? Not without a Maalox chaser, of course. He’s as old as dirt, after all. Did you know they have discos on those cruise ships?” Tootie went on a few more minutes about the dancing and the fun night life before Holly finally managed to hang up and head back to the shower to rinse the soap out of her hair.
Ten minutes later, she grabbed her birdseed roses and headed to the office.
“No way,” Evan declared when she walked in, her arms overflowing. “You must have been up all night.”
“A wedding planner’s gotta do what a wedding planner’s gotta do.” Holly sat the roses aside and collapsed at her desk while Evan went on and on about how dedicated she was. She stifled a pang of guilt and kept her mouth shut about the extra pair of hands she’d had on the task. She knew what would happen. Evan would blow the whole thing out of proportion and before Holly knew it, she’d be picking out a china pattern and changing her relationship status on Facebook.
And really, they hadn’t even fooled around.
They’d talked. Gotten to know each other. Shared.
Like a date.
She shook away the notion and reached for the steaming cup of coffee sitting on her desk. She’d been honest about the sleepless night, but not because she’d been working on the roses. Thanks to Travis, she’d been almost done when he’d cut and run, and so she’d finished up before midnight.
No, she’d stayed up all night tossing and turning. Thinking. Wanting.
Sex.
Her sleepless night certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she liked Travis and that she couldn’t forget the strange camaraderie she’d felt as they’d worked side by side. Or the connection between them when he’d told her about his past and she’d shared hers.
It didn’t mean anything. He was only here until the end of the week. And she’d sworn off relationships. So nothing could come of it.
To drive the point further home, she powered on her computer. The familiar Love Buster logo blazed across her screen. The chorus of Love Stinks by the J. Giles Band blared from the computer speakers.
“Here,” Evan said, handing her an energy drink.
“I’ve got coffee. I’m fine.”
“I think you should drink it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve got a long day ahead.”
“Actually, it isn’t so long because I made a dent in things last night with the roses. I do need to look at venues. I was thinking we might actually go with the old theater downtown. With the right décor, it could hold the number of people attending and it would really suit the new theme.”
“I’ve already booked it. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“Meaning?”
“Darla called a few minutes ago. She wants another dress.”
“She’s already got two.”
“She’s thinking a ball gown might be nice to change into for the reception. She also wants to look at bridesmaids dresses.”
“We already have bridesmaids dresses.”
“Tea-length dresses. She wants floor-length.”
“For twenty-two bridesmaids?”
“Twenty-three. She added her cousin’s wife.”
“By Saturday?”
“Exactly.”
“This Saturday?”
“That’s the one.”
“That’s impossible,” Holly blurted, panic bolting through her. “Did you tell her that’s impossible?”
“Of course.” He averted his gaze and Holly knew in an instant that something was up. “What else would I say?”
“Maybe that the idea of a floor-length ball gown and elbow gloves sounds positively dreamy?”
“Actually, I used the word stunning, but it’s practically the same thing.” Excitement leapt into his eyes. “Doesn’t it sound totally awesome? And she’s going to have all the girls carry these super fab little opera glasses I found online.” He shoved a printout in front of her. “Aren’t they divine? If we order today, we can get them over-nighted for only an extra hundred dollars.”
Holly shook her head. “I think I feel sick.”
“I promise to hold your hair if you start puking. Now drink up.” He indicated the energy drink. “We’re meeting Darla and her girls at the dress shop.”
“When?”
“In five minutes.”
“THE SLEEVES ARE just too puffy,” Darla declared later that afternoon, vetoing dress number twenty the moment the salesperson held it up.
Holly resisted the urge to pop another Tylenol and settled for downing the rest of her Diet Coke. “Hit me again,” she told Meg Sweeney, the owner of It’s About You, the one and only exclusive dress boutique in Skull Creek.
Meg and Holly had grown up together. She’d married her high school sweetheart, once-upon-a-time-geek Dillon Cash, and they were now living happily-ever-after at a nearby ranch. Meg specialized in special occasion wear, from wedding to prom dresses to evening wear. She’d pulled out her entire stock the minute Darla had walked in, but after eight hours of Darla trying to make up her mind on not only her own dress, but the one for her bridesmaids, the choices were dwindling. They’d narrowed things down, but Darla still hadn’t quite made up her mind.
Holly took the soda Meg handed her and glanced at the short black cocktail dress that hung on a nearby peg. Meg had brought it out a few hours ago out of desperation when Darla had quickly done a thumbs down on nearly every dress Meg put in front of her. The dress had looked great on, but Darla still wasn’t sure it was what she wanted. Nor was she sure the silver number hanging nearby, floor-length and full, was what she wanted either.
And so they were all still here after five o’clock on a Monday afternoon.
“Don’t you even want to try it on?” Darla’s sister Shelly sprawled in a nearby chair, an anxious look on her face. She was decked out in her deputy sheriff attire, complete with a walkie talkie on her hip that buzzed every few minutes with an update on what was happening at the local sheriff’s office.
“I can see how puffy the sleeves are without trying it on,” Darla told her sister.
�
��Maybe your arms will fill up enough space to eliminate the puffiness,” Shelly offered before pressing the button pinned to her lapel and informing the dispatcher that she still wasn’t done. “Just try it and let’s get this over with.”
“I need to think,” Darla declared. “Why don’t you try on a few more dresses?”
“Because I already tried on twenty-three and you said we could go with number sixteen. Which means it’s done. I’m finished. End of story.” Shelly pushed to her feet. “I’ve got to get back. They’re transferring a prisoner this afternoon from Austin and I have to be there to process him.”
“You can’t go now,” Darla insisted. “I still haven’t picked anything.”
“If you don’t like number sixteen, pick something else. Go long.” She indicated the rack of floor-length gowns that they’d spent the whole day looking at. “Go short.” She indicated the one short black cocktail dress that Meg had scrounged up out of desperation when Darla had vetoed her entire stock. “They’re all fine. I don’t care.”
“Me neither,” offered another of the bridesmaids. “I’ve got a dinner I can’t miss.”
“Me, too,” another bridesmaid offered.
“I’ve got a yoga class.”
“Zumba,” another added.
In a matter of seconds, the dressing room had cleared out with the exception of Darla, Meg and Holly. Even Evan had made a run for it, claiming a dinner date with Bob’s parents who already hated his guts and would totally despise him if he showed up late.
Holly gathered her courage, preparing herself for the fit Darla was about to throw. But instead of frowning, a sad expression touched her face. Her eyes widened and grew bright. “I guess I’m doing this by myself,” Darla’s words faded into a sniffle and her chest caught.
So much for bridezilla.
Holly felt her own eyes burn and she blinked. “Meg, why don’t you clear some of these dresses out of here while I talk to Darla for just a second?” Meg nodded and left the room, the curtains swishing closed behind her.
“I’m sorry,” Darla blurted. “I know I shouldn’t get upset over something so small. Sam keeps telling me that. But it’s just that he’s so perfect and I want this wedding to be perfect.”
The Braddock Boys: Travis Page 10
