Not His Type (An Opposites Attract Romance)

by Lisa Crane

  “Mike?” Brooke stared at Travis. “You really think he did it?”

  “I absolutely do,” he answered.

  “So we could go get my car right now!” Brooke said suddenly. Travis shook his head. “Why not?”

  “My friend wants to check out a couple of things on your car,” he answered.

  “Travis, I can’t afford that,” she protested quickly. “It was running okay. I can’t afford a mechanic to just check a couple things out. You call your friend and tell him we’re coming to get my car!”

  “We can’t now, Brooke,” Travis said reasonably.

  “Why not?” Brooke asked again.

  “Because it’s kind of in pieces. He’d already started working before I called him. Flushing the radiator, cleaning the carburetor, that kind of thing.”

  “Travis!” Brooke’s voice was sharp, a little panicked. “I can’t afford that! I know the job at Babycakes will be better, but I just started working there!”

  “Brooke, don’t worry about it,” Travis said calmly. “My friend will let you pay it out, okay? Will that help? He’s a good guy, he’s not going to do anything that’s not necessary. But when he found out the car belonged to a single woman, he wanted to make sure it was running really well.”

  Brooke sighed, still sounding a little frustrated. She glanced over at Travis.

  “Are all of your friends like you and the mechanic?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, rescuer of damsels in distress? Savior of lost strays?”

  “You need to stop putting yourself down, Brooke,” Travis said. His tone was sharp, he knew; between his own little annoying inner voice, Blair Carlyle’s unflattering comparison between Brooke and herself, and Brooke’s own self-deprecating words, he was more than a little irritated. “You’re not a stray.”

  Brooke ignored his words, asking instead, “So how much longer will your friend be checking things out? When can I get my car back?”

  “Uh, he said one day next week.”

  “Next week!”

  “Probably.”

  “Probably? Are you serious?” Brooke wanted to cry. “Travis, what am I supposed to do until next week? I don’t think I’m up to riding my bike yet!”

  “Brooke, calm down,” Travis said easily. “You know I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.”

  “Travis, you just don’t get it, do you?”

  “Brooke, what is there to get?” he asked. He pushed his hands through his short hair, a gesture of pure frustration. “You need transportation until you get your car back, and I have transportation to offer! Why can’t you just accept my help?”

  Without a word, Brooke reached for the door handle; before Travis could jump out and make it around to her door, she slid out of the passenger seat. She stumbled just a bit when her feet hit the ground; by the time Travis had hurried around the truck, Brooke had recovered and was walking toward her house. This time, Travis didn’t follow her; he stood beside his Hummer, shaking his head in frustration, watching her disappear inside her front door.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, Travis walked out onto his front porch and headed across the yard to Brooke’s house. His steps slowed when he realized her garage door was open and she was in the garage inspecting her bike.

  “Good morning, Bunny-girl,” Travis said. “What’re you doing?”

  “Just checking my bike,” she answered casually.

  “You’re not thinking about riding it to work, are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Brooke, come on, sweetheart,” Travis said. He sighed heavily. “Why does everything have to be a fight with you? I’m going to the bakery today anyway, remember? Can’t you just accept a ride?”

  “I’m sorry,” Brooke said, straightening to stand upright again. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, Travis. I just hate feeling like I’m bothering you.”

  “If it were a bother, I wouldn’t have offered. And remember, this all goes back to the accident, so it’s indirectly my fault you can’t ride your bike. Come on, let’s get going.”

  As Travis drove to the bakery, Brooke pondered his words. She wondered how long he’d feel responsible for her. And she wondered what it would feel like to have him want to be with her because he wanted to be with her. Brooke rolled her eyes at her stupidity; that particular question wouldn’t be answered anytime in her lifetime.

  “So,” Brooke said suddenly, giving herself a mental shake. “Have you had a chance to contact Blair yet? I think she’d be a great help to you!”

  “Ah, yeah,” Travis said. “I met with her yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And she has a very impressive résumé.”

  “So you’re going to hire her?” Brooke asked happily. “Oh, she’ll be so excited to get out of the diner!”

  Travis hated to put a damper on Brooke’s happiness. Then he remembered that Blair Carlyle had no such concern for Brooke.

  “No, Brooke,” Travis said, his voice gentle. “I’m not hiring Blair.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “She just didn’t seem like the right fit for my company,” he answered.

  “Really?” Brooke queried. “That sounds a little snooty, you know.”

  If you only knew, Travis thought.

  “No, sometimes you just know when something isn’t going to work,” Travis answered vaguely.

  “Huh,” Brooke murmured. She frowned slightly. “Well, maybe I can think of someone else.”

  “Hey, you were taking business courses, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Well, maybe you’d be willing to help me out some in the evenings,” Travis said. “If you’re not too tired from working in the bakery. And I’d be willing to pay you, too.”

  “What kind of help do you need?” Brooke asked.

  Travis told Brooke the same thing he’d told Blair, saying, “I just don’t have time to keep up with it and handle sales presentations and everything else that seems to be coming up.” He glanced over at her. “How about it, Bunny-girl? Just till I find someone permanent?”

  “I guess I can do that,” she agreed as Travis parked in front of Babycakes. She smiled at him as the idea seemed to take hold. “Sure, I’d be happy to help you out, Travis!”

  Travis was grinning when he walked inside the bakery’s front door. Brooke immediately headed back to the kitchen after a brief greeting for Riley. Travis placed a large box on the floor near the door.

  “Morning, Riley,” Travis said cheerfully.

  “How’s it going, Travis?” Riley greeted in return. He eyed the box at Travis’ feet. “Do you need anything from me to get started? Do I need to move anything?” He gestured at the tables near the door.

  “No, I can work around everything,” Travis answered. He grimaced. “It’s going to be noisy, though. Is there a better time to do the front door? I can start in the back if that’s better?”

  “Yeah, that would probably be best,” Riley agreed. He nodded toward the door where Brooke had just gone. “Go ahead and start in the back. Things usually slow down a bit up here after the morning rush, and before noon.”

  Travis lifted the large box as if it were weightless and carried it back to the kitchen. Jazz looked up and smiled in greeting.

  “Morning, Travis!”

  “Good morning, Jazz,” Travis said. “Riley and I thought it would be best if I start back here. I can work up front when the morning rush is over.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jazz agreed. She glanced at her watch and looked at Brooke. “I’ve got to get ready for a meeting. I have a bride coming in early to sample those cakes we made yesterday afternoon. I’ll be in my office if you need me, but I think you’ll be fine, Brooke.”

  Jazz pushed through the door. Riley waited on the other side, one brow arched, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “What?” Jazz asked innocently.

  “I happen to know you have all the wedding binders r
eady and waiting,” Riley answered, sliding his arms around his wife’s waist. “Are you playing matchmaker?”

  “I think they just need to spend more time together,” Jazz said, tossing a conspiratorial glance at the kitchen door. “Riley, tell me you don’t think they belong together.”

  “I have to admit, love, in the short amount of time we’ve known the two of them, there does seem to be something there.” He grinned. “Even if neither of them knows it yet!”

  In the kitchen, Travis moved to stand near Brooke, watching her as she expertly and efficiently frosted a tray of cupcakes. She continued what she was doing, not looking at him.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked pointedly.

  “You never let a guy have any fun, do you?” Travis asked. He looked down at the dark frosting. “What kind of frosting is that?”

  “It’s dark chocolate flavored with an orange liqueur,” Brooke answered. She smiled. “The cupcakes are flavored with the same liqueur.”

  “Is it as good as it sounds?”

  Without thinking, Brooke squirted a little blob of frosting onto her index finger. She held the finger in front of Travis’ face. At the same time Brooke realized what she’d done, Travis caught her hand as she would’ve pulled it back. His blue eyes locked on Brooke’s, he bent his head and slid the frosted tip of her finger into his mouth. Brooke froze, every nerve alive and tingling as she felt Travis’ warm, wet mouth sucking the frosting from her finger, his tongue swirling around the tip. Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest, and she couldn’t drag her eyes from the twin flames of his blue gaze.

  The little bell over the front door jingled, piercing Brooke’s consciousness. She started and pulled her finger from Travis’ lips with a little pop! She took a step back, wiping her hand on her apron. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out; she cleared her throat and tried again.

  “I should finish these,” she said, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of the cupcakes.

  Travis grinned at her, saying in a low voice, “You probably should.” He pointed to the back door. “I’ll just get to work myself.”

  Without another word, Brooke pushed through the kitchen door. She walked past a startled Riley and out the front door. Outside, she sucked in a lungful of the chilly morning air. Sweet mercy, Brooke had never experienced anything like that in her life! Granted, Brooke’s life so far had been very tame, downright boring, some might say, particularly where men were concerned. But never in her wildest dreams had Brooke imagined a finger could be such an erogenous zone! She could still feel Travis’ tongue licking the sticky frosting from her finger, and she stared at the digit in question as if it belonged to someone else.

  In the bakery, back in the kitchen, Travis silently set his tools out and began working. A little line formed between his eyebrows. What had he been thinking, pulling a stunt like that with Brooke Valentine? He’d have been an idiot not to have figured out his little neighbor was attracted to him; Travis had caught her looking at him too many times not to notice her attraction. He certainly didn’t intend to lead her on, so why had he done that thing with the frosting on her finger? Travis was more than a little confused; all he knew was he’d looked down at Brooke smiling up at him, seen a tiny little flicker in her violet eyes, and instinct had taken over.

  Brooke walked past Riley a second time. He caught her arm just before she walked into the kitchen, concern on his face.

  “Everything okay, Brooke?” he asked.

  “What?” she asked. “Oh! Oh, yes…um…everything is fine. I just needed a little air, that’s all.”

  Brooke walked into the kitchen. Silently, she picked up her pastry bag and resumed working. From the corner of his eye, Travis saw her frown a little as she concentrated on the cupcakes; the tip of her pink tongue emerged from between her lips as she worked. Suddenly, Travis had an image of himself kissing and licking more of that frosting from Brooke’s lips. The drill bit slipped from his hand; it hit his boot first, then the floor with a loud clang. Brooke started, squeezing the pastry bag, squirting frosting on the table. The metal drill bit rolled to a stop against the toe of her sneaker.

  “Sorry,” Travis muttered. “It slipped.” He bent and picked up the bit. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  Brooke watched Travis move away, wondering where his teasing smile had gone. She shook her head, thinking she’d done it again. She must’ve had a strange look on her face or something, something that gave her away to Travis. Now he felt uncomfortable, knowing she was attracted to him. Brooke made up her mind right then to work on her bike tonight; she’d make sure it was okay after her accident, and she could ride it tomorrow. The less time she spent in close proximity to Travis Cooper, the better!

  Chapter 19

  By noon, Travis had finished installing sensors on the back door and around the windows in the front of the bakery. He looked at his watch and pushed open the door to the kitchen.

  “Hey, Cupcake!” he said. His smile was back in place. “You have lunch plans?”

  “I brought a sandwich,” she answered a little warily.

  “I didn’t. You wouldn’t make me eat alone, would you?”

  “Oh, he’s very smooth,” Jazz whispered to Riley. They were unabashedly listening from the office.

  “Well, I…I did bring my lunch,” Brooke said reluctantly.

  “Go on, Brooke!” Riley called, winking at Jazz. “You’ve been stuck in that kitchen all morning! You could use a break and some fresh air.”

  “See, even your bosses agree,” Travis teased her. “Come on. We won’t go far, and I’ll have you back here before you know it! Scout’s honor!”

  Brooke hesitated a moment before untying her apron. She followed Travis out into the cool sunny day. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and walked along the sidewalk beside him; Travis matched his long stride to her shorter one

  “Where are we going?” Brooke asked.

  “There’s a little seafood place about a block away,” Travis replied. He glanced at her. “You like seafood? They have the best clam chowder you can get outside of New England!”

  “Sounds good,” she answered.

  They walked along together in the brisk wind. Travis reached over wordlessly and wrapped his scarf – the one he’d draped around Brooke’s neck the previous morning – more securely around her neck. He smiled at her.

  “Better,” he said simply.

  Since Babycakes stayed open during the lunch rush, it was after one when Brooke followed Travis into the restaurant. They were seated immediately and a waiter brought ice water and a basket of warm bread. Travis looked at Brooke.

  “Do you want to try the chowder?” he asked. “Or would you rather look at a menu first?”

  “No, the chowder sounds wonderful right now,” Brooke said, rubbing her hands together.

  “Good choice,” the waiter said, smiling. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Wanna split a shrimp po’boy?” Brooke nodded and Travis looked at the waiter. “There you go, two bowls of chowder and one shrimp po’boy.”

  “Be right back with that,” the waiter said, and hurried away.

  “Are you warming up?” Travis asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Brooke said. “It wasn’t bad till we turned the corner and faced the wind!”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I should’ve suggested we drive instead.”

  “No, walking was nice,” she argued. She smiled. “And if you’re going to feed me clam chowder and fried shrimp po’boys, I probably need the exercise.”

  “Oh, please, tell me you aren’t one of those women who obsess about their weight and everything they put in their mouths!” Travis groaned.

  “Oh, sure,” Brooke said giggling. “Yeah, I’m a regular Twiggy!” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Travis, I’m five foot three. I’m never going to look like that redhead of yours.” She shrugged. “I like to eat, so I try to exercise. The accident kind of messed that up, but hopef
ully not for long.”

  “What do you do for exercise?” Travis leaned his elbows on the table.

  “Mostly, I run. I used to do some boxing until I couldn’t afford the dues at the gym. Just for exercise, mind you, I never really boxed for competition.”

  “Maybe we can run together when the doctor releases you.”

  “You run?”

  “Yes,” Travis said. “I haven’t been very good about it lately, though. Between building the house, moving in –“

  “Playing chauffeur to your neighbor,” Brooke interrupted.

  “Nah, those are all just excuses,” he said dismissively. He grinned. “I just got lazy, that’s all.”

  The waiter set their meals down in front of them. He’d placed the two halves of the sandwich on a single plate and now set it between them. He gave the table a look; satisfied everything was good, he left Brooke and Travis alone again.

  Brooke took a spoonful of the creamy soup in her bowl; she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. Travis watched her enjoying the chowder. The look on her face was downright sensual and suddenly Travis wondered if someone had been a little overzealous in adjusting the thermostat; he tugged at his collar and dropped his gaze to his own bowl.

  “Mmm, this is good!” Brooke said. “This is so much better than my cold sandwich! Thank you, Travis.”

  “Thank you, Brooke,” he replied. “You saved me from having to eat by myself. Thanks for coming with me.” They ate in silence for a moment before Travis pushed the plate with the sandwich a little closer to Brooke. “You haven’t tried the po’boy.”

  “I guess I was enjoying the soup too much.” She took a bite of the sandwich, her eyes widening. She put a hand in front of her mouth and talked around the food. “Oh, that is so good! I didn’t think they could top the chowder, but that just might do it!”

  Travis smiled, enjoying watching Brooke’s pleasure in the simple meal. They finished eating and Travis paid the bill. Brooke looked at him sternly.

  “You have to let me make you dinner, Travis,” she insisted. “Maybe this weekend. Friday night?”