Finding Refuge

by Lucy Francis

  Something about that flash of deep-seated pain behind his smile had reached out and grabbed her by the heart. And that was all she needed. Pain in others had always called to her, spiking the soul-deep desire to rescue and soothe and heal.

  But she’d learned a harsh lesson from watching her parents. You couldn’t build a relationship on one person saving the other, because you ended up with one person sucking the heart and soul of the other dry, never changing, leaving only a husk where the nurturer once was, useless to themselves let alone anyone else.

  Rachel slowed the van as traffic thickened in front of them on the canyon interstate. Probably an accident up ahead. “I think you should go out with him.”

  Andri’s mouth dropped in shock. “What? No!” Her stomach flip-flopped, setting off her anger. She was not doing this. No way. And not just because he was suffering. The only man who’d shown more than fleeting interest in her since college ended up being gay. Clearly she had no man skills.

  Raising a hand, Rachel said, “Now, just wait a sec and listen. I’m not suggesting a relationship.”

  “Good. Not ready to do that.” Especially after she’d already had an emotional and physical reaction to Travis. Though, in all honesty, couldn’t part of it just be due to loneliness? She’d probably have reacted strongly to anyone who smiled and treated her like he’d noticed, and been interested in, the fact that she was female.

  Rachel snorted. “He’s not ready, either. Look, I’ve known Travis most of my life. I absolutely adore the man. But he deals strictly in temporary arm ornaments since his marriage ended. Emotional involvement just isn’t going to happen. I know you’re not doing the emotion thing either, and let’s be honest, dear friend, you would make a lovely ornament.”

  Andri felt the blush stain her cheeks. She gave herself credit for being reasonably pretty, but an ornament? Um, no. “So…what? You’re suggesting that I date him for entertainment?”

  “Sure, why not? It would be good for you. He’s interesting, heterosexual, and a lot of fun to hang out with, and I think you could use some fun while you’re here. Who knows, you might even get lucky.” Rachel slid her sunglasses down and wiggled her brows.

  An unwelcome thrill shot through her at a sudden vision of kissing Travis. He did have nice, well-shaped lips. Andri shoved the thought out of her head. “You are impossible.”

  “That wasn’t a no.”

  Andri sighed. “I’ll think about it.” Dating wasn’t even on her radar at the moment, but maybe one date, just for fun, wouldn’t hurt. As long as it didn’t go anywhere. And as long as she never again saw the pain crammed inside him.

  Chapter Two

  Wednesday morning gave Travis a taste of the summer heat he craved. Too bad he only had a moment to enjoy it. The apartment door opened and the stench of the place swallowed Travis as he stepped inside. The odors of sweat, cigarettes, beer, some painfully floral perfume, and apple cinnamon air freshener clung to him. Jeez, thirty seconds into this, and he already needed another shower.

  He eyed the skinny blonde with the bloodshot eyes who let him in. Where in the hell did Danny get his taste in women? “Where is he, Misty?”

  She waved a hand in the direction of the hallway. “Back there, in my room, the one on the left. I’d let him stay, but I gotta get this place cleaned up. Landlord called, said he’s coming by today to fix the sink. He’ll have a cow if he sees all this.”

  Travis stepped over empty beer cans and vodka bottles littering the ugly brown shag carpet. Misty didn’t stand a chance in hell of cleaning up anything if she was as wasted as she looked. He worked his way back to her bedroom, trying to breathe only through his mouth.

  Danny lay sprawled face-down on the floor. Travis nudged his brother with his foot. Danny shifted slightly and mumbled a foul curse at him.

  Travis focused on the ceiling, gritted his teeth, mentally ticked off the numbers from one to ten, trying to get a grip on the anger rising in his chest. God, he wasn’t up for this today. He was too damned tired after spending the past couple of nights tossing and turning. He was accustomed to the jumbled stew of work and bad memories that usually crossed his mind at night, but his dreams had added a new torment: a curvy little brunette with incredible hair, a gorgeous ass, and big, expressive brown eyes.

  He dropped his gaze back to his brother. “Come on, Danny, I’ve got things to do.”

  He stirred. “Go away. I’m totally wasted and I swear, if I move, I’m gonna throw up.”

  So much for being on the wagon. Travis looked around, and felt his tenuous grip on his temper slip when he spotted a mirror on the bed. A mirror holding a short straw, a credit card and a few streaks of powder. Dear God, not again.

  He reached down and clamped his hands around his brother’s arms, hauling him to his feet. True to his prediction, Danny heaved. Since he was facing the other direction, Travis simply waited until his brother finished emptying his gut on that lousy carpet before dragging him outside the apartment.

  He pulled Danny out to his truck, then turned him around and pushed him hard against the passenger door. Travis bracketed his hands on Danny’s face, examining his reddened nose and bloodshot eyes. He didn’t miss the stray wisps of white powder under his nostrils.

  Heat flushed Travis’s face, and his hands trembled with the force of his anger. “Damn you, Danny, I thought you were clean. Misty said you were drunk, and that was bad enough. But this? When did you start using again?”

  His brother squinted at him in the bright morning light. “Oh, hi, Trav. Sorry I was an asshole, I didn’t know it was you kicking me around back there.”

  Travis fisted his hands in Danny’s shirt, if only to keep from beating him to a bloody pulp. He checked his volume before he spoke again, in an effort not to create too much of a scene. All he’d need right now was someone in the apartment complex hearing a fight and calling the cops. “How long have you been back into the coke, Dan?”

  Danny cracked the grin that helped him seduce dozens of women. He shook his head, his long black hair falling in his eyes. “I don’t know. What day is it?”

  With a growl of frustration, Travis released his brother and paced away a few feet. Twice he’d put Danny in rehab. Twice. It obviously wasn’t working, and the helplessness made his head spin. If his brother’s latest girl hadn’t called Travis to come get him…

  Travis eyed Danny’s low-slung red motorcycle a few parking spots away. How long would it be before he tried riding that thing strung out? At best, he might get pulled over for driving under the influence and end up in jail. At worst—no, he didn’t want to think about the worst.

  He turned back to Danny, who had slumped down against the truck and was steadily sliding toward the pavement. Travis strode over, yanked his brother up, opened the door, and half-pushed, half-lifted him into the passenger side of the truck.

  Travis stalked to the rear of the truck, lowered the gate, and slid a long board into position as a ramp. He reached back into the cab, fished through Danny’s pockets until he found the keys, then took his brother’s beloved crotch-rocket rumbling up the makeshift ramp into the bed of the truck.

  The deep growl of the engine made the bike feel like a big animal beneath him. Something not quite trained, that would turn on him the minute he relaxed. Danny liked it because it felt wild and free to ride. Danny was too wild by half without the help of the stupid motorcycle.

  Travis’s chest ached, tight with frustration. He gave the bike’s tie-down straps a harsh yank, hoping to release some of the stress. This couldn’t keep happening. His brother had only been out of rehab for a month this time. Danny’s savings was cleaned out, and he wasn’t working even part-time hours for the company.

  God only knew how much money he’d blown on drugs and alcohol in the last few years. He couldn’t continue feeding his addictions without cash. Somehow, though, Travis doubted a lack of funds would bring Danny’s drug use to an end. He’d find a way. The little bastard could be incredibly resourc
eful. A supply of cocaine was probably the source of Danny’s attraction to Misty.

  Travis climbed into the truck cab and looked over at his little brother. Danny leaned against the door, his head rolled to the side against the back of the seat. His cheekbones seemed sharper, his face looking more gaunt. Damn, he looked older than twenty-five. Travis sighed and leaned forward, setting his forehead against the steering wheel. Danny’s addictions were aging him, too.

  It would be a great help if, just once, his parents put in some effort to take care of his brother, rather than turn a blind eye to their youngest son’s problems. Yeah, and maybe some sweepstakes folks would show up on his doorstep with an oversized check for a million bucks.

  He sat up and started the truck. The flames of his anger had ebbed, leaving him cold and dark inside. He pulled out of the parking lot, debating where to take Danny. He glanced at the dashboard clock, then reached over and shook him by the shoulder. “Hey, Dan.”

  He yawned. “What?”

  “Can I leave you safely at home or do I need to take you to work with me so I can babysit you?”

  Danny gave him a dark look. “Travis, I’m exhausted and I feel like shit. Take me anywhere you want. All I’m going to do is sleep.”

  Travis’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “How many days have you been up?”

  Danny rubbed his eyes and yawned again. “I went to a party at Jared’s on Saturday.”

  Saturday. He shook his head. “Daniel, today is Wednesday.”

  Silence filled the cab as he concentrated on driving. Just when he was certain his brother had fallen asleep again, Danny softly said, “I’m sorry, Travis.”

  The anger tightened into a protective hurt. “This has to stop.”

  “I know.”

  “If I take you back to your place, will you promise to stay there?”

  “Yeah. Do you need me on the job tomorrow?”

  “I always need you on the job.”

  “I’ll be there, Travis. Clean and sober. I promise.”

  Travis got Danny to the bed in his townhouse and unloaded the motorcycle, then turned his focus to his mental to-do list as he left. He waited for a break in the traffic, then pulled into the lane for the freeway onramp. He needed to go into the office today, but he couldn’t work all these emotions out of his system sitting at his desk. He bypassed the freeway entrance and turned at the next traffic light, heading for the nearest job site.

  He knew better than to let Danny’s moment of remorse in the truck count for anything, even if it was the first time he’d apologized for the drugs. Just because Danny recognized he had a problem didn’t mean he had the strength to avoid temptation. There had to be a way to help him, and he’d find it.

  He had to. The price of failure was way too damned high. He could barely live with himself after losing one brother. To lose the second? No. Never, ever going to happen, no matter what.

  Travis grimaced. He should have taken the business trip to Colorado when Dad gave him the option. It would have saved him from so much. Danny. Mr. Jasper pestering him about the house.

  A crystal-clear memory of catching Rachel’s friend, Andromeda, slammed into his thoughts. He shook it off, unwilling to give thoughts of her devastating smile and equally impressive curves any more time. Bad enough that she’d invaded his dreams.

  He forced his brain back to the Danny issue. It might have done Dad some good to retrieve Danny from the hole of an apartment where his skanky girlfriend lived. Maybe it would open his eyes. Confronted with Danny’s substance abuse that blatantly, how could Dad continue to avoid the subject?

  That’s exactly what he’d do, send his father next time. As much as he hated to think it, there would be a next time.

  Travis blew out a long breath. He’d feel better after he pounded some nails. Nothing could reach him when he worked. Not paperwork. Not Danny. Not pretty women with mythical names who he’d never see again.

  ****

  Andri stood by the Garrett Electrical van, adjusting the thick coil of insulated copper wire on her shoulder. She breathed deep, letting out a contented sigh as she turned her face toward the sun. It was much warmer today, though the air was still cooler here than in Arizona.

  For the last couple of days, she’d gone to work with Rachel, playing gofer, and she found herself appreciating the routine, so different from her usual one. In Phoenix, she’d grab a piece of toast on her way out the door in the morning, then put in ten hours or more at work, dealing with network installations, systems malfunctions and end-user meltdowns, followed by on-call emergencies once she got home. She’d squeezed in time here and there to attend business functions with Pete and managed to catch an uninterrupted movie once in a while.

  Rachel’s more relaxed life had already forced her to slow down, to remember how to breathe. The difference in her tension level amazed her. She was sleeping far more than usual, working on eliminating the severe sleep deficit she’d accumulated over the last few years. She even tried out Rach’s unhurried breakfast routine this morning, enjoying the eggs and hashbrowns she’d cooked up.

  Andri looked around at the condominiums under construction around her. A few units closer to the road, near the Silver Meadows by Holt Construction sign, were completed and up for sale. Rachel had parked in front of a framed building of four joined units. “So what’s the plan today?” she asked as Rachel handed her a staple gun.

  “Rough electrical. Lots of drilling, setting boxes, running wire.” Rachel filled the pocket of her toolbelt with nails, then grabbed another coil of wire, a drill, and a bucket of outlet and switch boxes. “You can staple the wire unless you’d rather relax and read. Totally up to you.”

  Andri lifted the staple gun in a salute. “I can handle stapling. Lead the way.”

  She followed Rachel up the makeshift front steps of the first condo unit, pausing when she heard the rumble of a pickup truck pulling in by the framed building south of where she stood. She turned and a delicious shiver coursed down her spine when she saw Travis Holt climb out of the big black truck. Shoot, what was he doing here? Didn’t Rachel say he was running the construction company with his father? Yet there he was, buckling a tool belt around his narrow hips. Wait, he was here to work, hands-on?

  She wanted to walk up the steps and into the condo before he glanced her way, but her feet were glued to the wood beneath them. And then she no longer wanted to move. Travis stripped off his shirt in one graceful, mouth-watering motion. A tingle started low in her belly. It radiated outward, weakening her knees. He wasn’t built bulky. His muscles were lean, layered on by hard work. He slathered sunscreen across his bare skin, muscles sinuously shifting under the tanned surface. Her fingers itched with the urge to help him lotion his back.

  He pulled on a black White Sox cap and climbed the stairs into the building. After a moment, she spotted him moving through the bare roof trusses with the other men on the framing crew, nail gun in hand.

  Andri swallowed hard. Great. He’d be right where she could see him at a glance, laying plywood for the roof. How was she supposed to concentrate on helping Rachel when he was out there, the sun glistening on his bronzed skin?

  She had promised Rachel she’d think about going out with him, but, oh my, thinking about him at all could get seriously out of control now. She shifted the wire coil on her shoulder and trudged into the building. Even if she could keep herself from looking out the windows every five minutes, it was going to be a very, very long day.

  ****

  Travis loved hauling a nail gun around, forty feet above the ground, the sun spreading warmth across his skin as he secured sheets of plywood on a dramatically pitched roof. Nothing else forced him to live completely in the moment the way roofing did. Under those conditions, thoughts of anything outside work fled. His focus was simple. Get the work done, don’t get killed. One wrong step, one slip, was all it took at this height.

  He concentrated on the position of his feet and the balance of his b
ody weight. The pine scent of the wood engulfed him. He heard only the staccato pounding of the framing crew’s guns blowing nails into boards.

  Work. Just work.

  He didn’t want to think about the paperwork piling up at the office, or his intense frustration with Danny.

  He didn’t want to think about the darkest brown eyes, or long, thick, wavy hair, or that low, grainy voice.

  He shoved everything aside. After a while, nothing reached him but the work. Hard, methodic, muscle-killing labor.

  The morning flew by, and when Travis paused to pull his ball cap off and run his hand through his damp hair, he noticed the other guys were heading down for lunch break.

  He left his cap by the nail gun and walked across the roof. He swung down through the trusses and dropped to the floor ten feet below, then pounded down the temporary stairs to the ground floor. Outside, the men who brought their lunches to the site sat on stacks of plywood and two-by-fours, eating in the slight shade cast by the tall buildings.

  “Hey, Travis!”

  He turned at the shout and saw Rachel Garrett emerge from the open doorway of the unit across the walkway. She waved, beckoning him as she walked to her van, so Travis obliged and trotted over. “What’s up?”

  Rachel grinned at him. “You just coming down for lunch?”

  When he nodded, she said, “Come on, join me and Andri. We brought plenty of food today.”

  “Andri’s here?” His stupid heart jumped just saying her name. He clamped down on his reaction.

  “Yep, she’s playing gofer girl for me.”

  No, Travis. His stomach growled. Hey, it was just lunch with a couple of friends. What could be the harm? “I don’t even care if you brought chick food. I’m starving.”