by Saylor Bliss
Travis brushed my hair behind my ears. With his thumb under my chin, he tipped my face up and brushed my lips with his. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to my temple, and just like that, the comforted became the comforter. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, I could go for some hundred proof. You?”
Grant was already at the kitchen cabinet. “Way ahead of you. Got a little medicinal Jack right here.”
Almost by magic a bottle of whiskey and three tumblers appeared. Grant poured generous measures into the glasses. I accepted the drink he handed me and knocked it back, appreciating the burn as it went down.
“I’m going to go see to the stock.” Grant set his glass on the counter with a soft thunk. “Dad’s out front with Gus.”
When they were alone, Travis lifted the glass from my hand and set it next to his and Grant’s. “You doing all right?” He laid a kiss on my forehead, almost as though he couldn’t bear to keep any distance between them.
“A little numb,” I admitted, leaning back and sending him a smile. His face looked less drawn, a good sign.
Mischief, not pain, danced in his eyes. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Want to borrow some clothes?”
Sparks had turned my shirt into a scorched rag. I poked a finger through one of the holes and wiggled it. “Ya think I need to? This could be a great new style.”
Travis swallowed hard, looking like he wanted to say something, but instead he leaned forward and captured my mouth in yet another tender kiss, his right hand moving convulsively against my back.
I swayed against him and slid my hands upward along his chest to his shoulders. With gentle back and forth movements, he brushed feathery kisses on my lips. I moaned and pressed more urgently against him.
From somewhere deeper in the house came the distant chime of a clock, and I pulled away with a sigh. “Do they know?”
Stepping back, Travis stared, obviously thrown by the question. “I’m… going to need a little more information. Does who know what?”
“Grant and your dad. Do they know you spent the night at my place? Do they think we—”
Travis rocked back onto his heels. Then he huffed out an easy laugh. His green eyes sparkled. “Bluebell, I haven’t felt the need to ask my father’s permission to spend the night out in a while now, and I haven’t had any burning desire to have a conversation with Grant about what’s between you and me. But I’m a healthy man and you’re a beautiful woman. I breezed in here at about five this morning after Grant saw us leaving the bar together last night. It’s a fair bet they’re thinking along those lines.” One of his killer smiles curved his mouth, shooting warmth to sensitive places. “Not to mention DC’s likely to bring up monkey sex to someone at some point and that’s definitely gonna get back to Dad and Grant.”
A giggle slipped out. “I forgot about that.” I rolled my shoulders to ease the strain. “So, hopefully no one’ll be shocked if I take a shower here.”
Tension visibly drained from Travis’s body. He grinned and held out his hand. “No, Bluebell, I don’t guess they will.”
The bathroom Travis led me to was painfully neat. The array of soaps and shampoos numbered two of each, not discount products but not top end either. I smiled as Travis showed me around. It was exactly what I would have expected.
“I share this bathroom with Grant.” Travis set a couple of towels on the counter. “He won’t come in while you’re getting cleaned up.” Pushing open the glass shower door, he gestured inside. “Pretty basic but the water’ll be hot. Use whatever soap and shampoo you need.” He looked a little sheepish. “Sorry, it’s kind of masculine.”
My smile widened. “If they were feminine, I’d be a little worried.” I touched him on the arm. “Are you going to join me?”
My words seemed to throw him off balance. He lifted a hand to caress my cheek, searching my eyes for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I’m going to use my dad’s bathroom.”
Grazing my lips with a butterfly kiss, he then pointed me toward the shower and slipped from the tiny room.
I reached into the shower and turned on the water, oddly grateful for Travis’s resolve. We’d just been through a few hours of terror. Now was definitely not the time to take our relationship to the next level. Before I could dwell on that particular need for too long, I stripped out of my clothing and stepped under the spray, enjoying the pulsing beat of warm water. I knew by smell which was Travis’s soap and I closed my eyes as I pulled the wash cloth with his scent across my body, dreaming of a time when it would be his hand following that path, when I could enjoy in every way the man who now held my heart.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Travis
Most of the guys I’d once worked with had sought sexual outlets for their excess adrenaline after a run. I had never done that, but I struggled now. The warm shower had relaxed aching muscles; knowledge of Christine’s proximity stimulated my ever-present awareness of her. The contradicting sensations were intensely erotic. Not surprising, I finished my shower before she did, not because she dawdled, but because I’d rushed.
I pulled on a pair of athletic shorts I wore when I worked out, and was rummaging through his top drawer, seeking something I could give her to wear, when the door opened.
“Travis, about earlier…”
I glanced up and caught sight of her in Grant’s blue flannel bathrobe, the belt at her waist somehow keeping her from drowning in the garment. Laughter spewed, and I didn’t bother reining it in. Her hair was wrapped in a dark blue towel and her face was scrubbed free, not only of soot but also of the makeup she’d no doubt meticulously applied earlier in the day. She should have looked like a comical depiction of a nineteen-fifties housewife. Instead she was a lovely vision of everything I wanted in life. Without shutting the drawer, I closed the distance between us.
“Shh.” I touched a finger to her lips. “We’ll work it out.”
“I, um…” She shook her head, apparently speechless. “I have to say this. I’m… falling for you.” Her voice was laced with amazement.
I froze.
Emotions skidded, tangled, crashed inside me like a massive traffic accident. I’d only begun to hope she was tripping along the same path with me. To hear her say it out loud was as mind-numbing as the little touches I’d come to crave from her. I scanned her eyes, noted the doubts in them, but then she smiled. My heart stalled for a split second before it started beating again. Nothing could be more beautiful than a woman on the threshold of love —even if she wasn’t quite ready to call it love.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, seeming to shrink within herself as she sent me a shy gaze. “The thing is… I don’t know where this is going, but… if it’s not going to go anywhere, I can’t —it’s not casual for me anymore.” Gone was the bravado, the overt sexual innuendo, the playfulness… all the things she’d once told me she hid behind when something was important enough to scare her. The real woman had unmasked herself for me.
My lungs tightened, became too full as the breaths I took backed up. Did she think that’s what it was for me? Had she even listened to me when I’d told her I wasn’t looking for just sex? “Bluebell… it’s never been casual for me.” I took her lips in a long, sweet kiss, pleased when she opened her mouth and invited me home.
When I slid my lips along her jaw to tease her earlobe, she sighed, her soft breath like silk on his skin. “I’m too emotional.”
“You’re allowed. You nearly died.” She’d been worried about losing him, and I’d nearly lost her. I tightened my arms.
Christine
Travis’s shoulder muscles were bunched in so many knots, that it had to be painful. I kneaded at them, but my reach was awkward and my efforts ineffective. “Come here,” I murmured, leading him toward his bed.
“Christine…” He balked, shaking his head. I laughed.
“My oh-so-sexy cowboy, I want to make love with you very badly. But when it does happen again, it’s not going to be i
n your bedroom in your father’s home, with Justin and Grant downstairs wondering about it.” I tugged on his hand again. “Come on! Your shoulders feel as though they’re made out of rocks. I’m just going to give you one of my killer massages.”
He obediently flopped backwards onto the bed, grabbing the light blanket lying across the foot and drawing it over his bare legs.
“Are you cold?”
He sucked in a sudden deep breath, then nodded his head once.
“Well, I’ll have to warm you up. Okay, on your stomach.”
He managed to take the blanket with him as he rolled over and I chuckled.
Sitting next to him wearing only a thin flannel bathrobe was awkward, but straddling his back struck me as too forward. The tension in his muscles eased as I rubbed and squeezed along his shoulders. I put a little extra effort into working a particularly tight knot in his left scapula and he moaned out loud.
“I think you need a muscle relaxer or maybe just some aspirin or something. You’re gonna be really sore.” I brushed a hand down his back and knocked the blanket from his leg.
He jerked a hand down and snatched at the cover, pulling it back into place. “Easy, ace. I already told you I’m not after your virtue. What gives?” I tugged playfully on the blanket. “You got chicken legs under here or something?”
With a laugh, I lifted the edge, ready to tease him about legs that never saw the light of day.
“Oh.” It was all I had breath to utter at first. It wasn’t a new wound but it had been major. “Travis, what happened to your leg?”
“It’s nothing.” He started to roll, moving the leg away from me, but I stopped him.
The puckered scar slashed a jagged line along the inside of his right leg from just above the knee almost to his groin. I traced the whitish line with one finger. Travis jerked as though my touch hurt. I lifted my face and met his steady gaze, seeking permission to continue. He held me in a long stare before nodding.
I ran my hand the length of the injury. He was missing muscle mass, and it was a miracle he didn’t walk with a limp. It was anything but nothing.
“Were you in an accident?”
Travis’s eyes flickered with a hint of dark emotion, then the shadows fell over his face and he carefully set his mask in place. His voice, when he finally answered, was raw, choked with the emotions he was trying to hide. “Yeah. Got hurt at work. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it. Not just now.”
I swallowed hard against my natural curiosity. Just another facet to the mystery of Travis McGee. One more secret shouldn’t really matter, should it? I couldn’t process while I was tumbling around in his green gaze. I averted my glance to the floor, mentally tracing the pattern of rectangles on the throw rug at my feet.
Travis sat up, startling me when he laid a hand on my shoulder. I turned around again, but settled my gaze just to his right, rather than chance what I might read in his eyes.
“There’s a lot I want —need to talk about. Just…” He played with a strand of my hair, weaving it through his outstretched fingers. “I don’t want to think about anything right now but you and me.”
I laid my hand against the worst of the scar. The pale uneven flesh was warm under my fingertips. Tears threatened but I bit them back. Whatever had caused such damage had been major. I understood why he wouldn’t want to talk about it. Hadn’t I begged for a similar concession just days earlier? But I already knew I would tell him about Mick one day. Travis might never talk about his past. I saw two clear choices before me: push him for the answers or back off and be patient. Scratch that, one option: back off. Patience might be considered a virtue, but it was also the safer decision.
“Does it still hurt?”
Travis jerked when I traced a finger along his scar. “Not so much. Not for a long time.”
An hour later, Travis still slept. He’d been exhausted but restless, finally relaxing into sleep only when I’d let him hold onto me. To the sound of his snores —which I planned to give him crap about later —I rose quietly and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants I found folded over the back of a chair. With as much stealth as the sticky old wooden dresser permitted, I opened the top drawer a bit farther, looking for something to wear. I smiled at the neatly organized clothing, folded briefs on one side, T-shirts on the other, and smiled, thinking of my jumbled storage system. I chose a plain white T-shirt and slipped it over my head.
My hand was on the drawer, about to push it shut, when I spotted the manila file folder with a single bold, black A in the tab. It had to be his file on the woman he’d been searching for. What had he said her name was? Amy? No, it was something else.
I lingered with my hand over the folder as I fought a battle against curiosity. I shook my head. He’d taken the angel out of his car. He’d told me the other woman would never be an issue between us and I hadn’t been sure I believed him. But if I opened the folder, I would be the one making the mystery woman an issue. With determination, I pushed the drawer closed, picked up my boots, and silently left Travis sleeping.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Christine
The bitter smell of fire hung in the air as I let myself out the door. Late afternoon sun bathed the yard in gold, hitting the scraggly shrubs planted along the front porch and forming squat shadows. Black scars of scorched grass zigzagged across the field beyond. I forced my gaze away as my mind delighted in painting greedy orange flames into the picture, raising the hairs on my arms and bringing on a shiver.
“Afternoon, Ms. Christine.” Comfortably slouched in a wooden rocking chair, Justin sipped lemonade from a tumbler then set his drink on the table beside him —next to a nearly full pitcher and two clean glasses. Either he was in the habit of being prepared for unexpected visitors… or he’d been waiting for me and Travis to emerge from the bedroom. Instant heat flooded my cheeks.
But he seemed not to notice. “Will you sit with me?”
Why not? I hadn’t really wanted to leave so soon, and it was Sissy’s night on schedule. I could always get JV to help with what few customers might drop by the bar on a weekday.
“Thank you.” I settled into the rocking chair opposite his and gestured to the clear sky. “Looks like we have a nice evening ahead.”
He poured a second glass of lemonade and added a sprig of mint, then offered it up. “Would you care for some?”
“Yes, thanks.” Beads of sweat already forming made the glass slippery as I accepted it.
“My son getting some rest?”
Heat pushed up my neck into my face. Well, you were the one who decided to brazen it out. I took a drink before responding. “It took him a little time to unwind enough but he was asleep when I left him.”
Justin chuckled. “Plenty of times his mother and I had to unwind the same way.”
The heat infusing my face kicked up to searing. “Oh, crap. I mean, no. That is, I’m sorry, Mr. McGee. I didn’t —we didn’t—”
“Sorry?” The old man laughed outright. “For what? Loving my son?”
Well, that rocked my world. The word I’d been avoiding had rolled so easily off his tongue. My body deflated into my chair. “Is it obvious?”
“Probably obvious to a blind man.” The smile settled into his eyes first, the way Travis’s did sometimes. “And I’m not blind. You know, Travis could do a lot worse on many counts, I. But he’ll never find anyone better than you.”
“I thought —some people would say we don’t know each other —that I’m easy or… after something.” I spread my hands helplessly, looking out at the blackened hay field, because it was easier than letting Travis’s father look into my soul, to risk him seeing the things I wasn’t sure of myself.
His voice was kind, his words gentle. “Are you? Easy or after something?”
“I’ve only just met him. But sometimes it feels like we’ve known each other for a lot longer, more like years.” I lifted a shoulder. “I can’t explain it.”
“Some folks just f
it together right off.” Justin reached out and touched the back of my hand. “Some hearts are lucky enough to make an instant connection. I see something special between you two. My son’s a lot like his mother. I always dove into life headfirst.”
“You’re saying he’s not careful with his heart.”
Justin toyed with the beads of sweat on his glass. “He never had to be. Always knew what he wanted and if it was right. But something happened to him while he was gone, something he hasn’t talked about yet. It changed him. He still knows what he wants. But now he starts looking for the ways his heart can break, instead of keeping his eye on the potential for happiness.”
I set my drink down. I didn’t know if it helped or not, to know that he hadn’t even talked with his father about the things that still hurt him. “I can’t promise I’ll never hurt Travis, Mr. McGee. But I’ll never do it on purpose.”
“I know you won’t.” Justin’s steady gaze paralyzed me.
“I see in you, the same I see in him. You know what you want. But sometimes you see only the obstacles and none of the joy.”
The denial was formed on my lips, but the words stuck in my throat when Justin raised an eyebrow. With a wry smile, I acknowledged the truth.
“He’s got trouble here, girl, and his troubles are spilling onto you.”
I stiffened. “I don’t see it like that.”
“My son does,” Justin said softly. I drew a deep breath to steady myself. “I haven’t told him yet, but I do love him. We’re together. He’s not alone with this trouble.”
“He can’t let you get hurt because of him, Christine. It would kill him. He takes care of the people he loves.” Justin directed a look at me as though to be sure I got the point.
