After she departed for bed, Travis picked up the mail on the desk. He hadn’t had a chance to go through it until now. Bills, credit card offers, more junk mail than anything. One thick envelope stopped him cold. The return address was from the county court. It wasn’t work related. In fact, he knew, before he even opened it, what the envelope contained.
Under his breath, Travis cursed Daphne Montague in a string of colorful words. She was suing him for full custody of Jessa.
He should’ve expected this, especially after the woman’s last visit. It was exactly the thing his ex-mother-in-law would do. Did it all boil down to Rio’s presence in the house? Probably not. Surely if it wasn’t Rio, then Daphne would find some other reason to want to remove Jessa from his care.
He dropped the papers onto his desk and rubbed at the ache throbbing in each temple. He’d have his work cut out for him, fighting this woman. She was cold and smart, with an impressive team of lawyers at her fingertips.
Jessa’s recent behavioral issues wouldn’t exactly be helpful. He didn’t think Daphne knew everything about that. Seeing Jessa’s hair, however would be a good indication there were some issues at the Lithgow home.
There was no way Jessa would be better off with her grandmother. Laura had turned out spoiled and not equipped to handle being a mother or a wife. Travis had let it go, but he’d be damned if he’d give Daphne Montague a shot at ruining his daughter.
First thing in the morning he’d talk to Phillip Gowdy, his lawyer, and they’d address this issue. For now, he needed some sleep.
Travis spent the rest of the week trying to decide if he should mention anything about this newly developing custody battle to Jessa. As if the girl needed anything else on her shoulders. In the end he decided it best to be honest with her. After her sleepover he’d sit her down to talk.
He had no idea what to say, how he could make her understand the seriousness of the situation. She’d done everything he’d asked for the last few weeks, working at Sadie’s every day after school. While for the most part she gave him the silent treatment for it, she at least hadn’t gone over to the Bartlett’s. Perhaps the rebellion had ended.
He also continued to track the life of Storm Presley. Rio’s brother spent eight years in juvenile detention after he shot Pete Moffett. He was eighteen when he was released. An adult, probably one drastically different from the boy Rio had known. At least no longer subject to Katrina.
Except, to Travis’s shock, that’s exactly where Storm had gone. To his mother. What in the world would possess him go back? What had happened over those years to make him think she was his only option?
Maybe because Katrina had been the only person the boy knew. To him, both his sisters had abandoned him. That had to leave him bitter. It sure hadn’t encouraged Storm to stay on the straight and narrow. Not when he landed in prison for another two years. That latest stint ended and still he lived with Katrina Presley.
How would Rio deal with this bit of information?
Again she’d buried herself in her work over at Sadie’s. More often than not she’d eat dinner over there and not come home until nearly bedtime. Even Sadie had commented on the young woman’s apparent dedication to her job, and her newly formed attachment to Dante.
“Way things are heading, I’ll have to give her a promotion to work with all the horses and hire someone else to muck the stalls,” Sadie had said with a laugh yesterday when Travis was picking Jessa up after work. “She’s being wasted on those other chores.”
In fact, Rio had started riding some of the other horses on a regular basis. While Sadie kept control of the groundwork with the horses, since she couldn’t sit in a saddle anymore, Rio had taken over all the riding.
“The girl has natural talent. I’m planning to enter her into some of the small shows in the spring with Fleur. It’ll give her a taste of what’s expected before we put her and Dante in the show ring. It’ll happen. I know it will.”
A few weeks ago Travis would’ve doubted Sadie’s confidence in Rio, but now he had to agree. Unless something happened over the course of the winter to change her mind.
On Friday, Travis brought Jessa home from Cobble Creek early so she could prepare for Tina’s birthday party. Over the past week his girl had brightened considerably. He hoped they’d seen the end of the rebellion. His hope was tentative, yet he held onto it with a firm grip. He sure wouldn’t take this change for granted. Her enthusiasm could be due to the party.
He would find out Saturday, he figured, when she came home from Tina’s.
After Jessa left, the house remained empty. He didn’t expect to see Rio until after dinner. He would have to rattle around by himself.
When she got home he would find the opportunity to talk to her about what he’d discovered about her brother. She wouldn’t be pleased. He tried to think up ways to sugarcoat the information. Which would be nearly impossible. Best to say it straight out. He had the feeling the truth would hit hard.
She didn’t come home until close to seven in the evening, worn out, relaxed, and happy. He hated to ruin her contentment, but this would be the best opportunity.
“Can we talk?” he asked her after she removed her jacket and hung it next to his by the back door.
Rio paused, the peace in her expression slipping into suspicion. “Can I get cleaned up first?”
“Sure.”
Half an hour later she returned to the living room, her hair wet, dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her entire body stiff with tension, she perched on the edge of the couch, her hands fisted on her knees.
“I did some digging on your brother. I have some information on him.”
Her face paled. “Go on.”
He laid it out for her, straight, no sugar coating. There was no easy way to tell her. Rio remained quiet, still as a stone. He hadn’t known what to expect from her. Tears? Harsh words? No, she’d probably learned how to bury those emotions.
When he finished, she nodded. “I never thought he’d go to her again,” she said flatly. “What did she ever give him that was worth going back to?”
Then she laughed coldly. “Of course there wasn’t anyone else there for him, was there? I sure wasn’t.”
“There could’ve been other places—”
“Like where? Where do you go when you’ve been sitting in jail since the time you were ten? She probably sweet-talked him, convinced him she’d changed.”
“And if she did change?”
“Absolutely not,” she said quickly. “Nothing in the world would’ve made her any different than she’d been all her life. A person can’t put her kids through the hell she put us through and then just turn herself around. She didn’t make a secret of the fact she wished, more often than not, we weren’t around. I’m sure she only took Storm in because at eighteen he would be useful to her.”
The bitter cynic returned, a mask seemingly all too easy for her to slip on. If Travis had thought the time she’d spent here, between Cobble Creek and Shadow Oak, had mellowed her out, he was mistaken. It would take a whole lot more time.
“Where are they now? Are they still up by Buffalo?” she asked.
“Actually, no, they’ve moved out of New York altogether.” This bit of information would really grab her. “They’re in Massachusetts now. Springfield.”
Rio rubbed a hand over her face and fell onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “You mean I’ve spent all these years trying to stay away from them and here they are, what, two hours away?”
“They don’t know where you are.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re practically in my backyard.” Rio stood abruptly and searched around, as if she expected them to burst through the door at any moment. She hugged her arms around her. “I was there,” she confessed in a voice that was little more than a broken whisper.
Travis didn’t reply. He waited patiently for her to finish.
“I was there then night Storm shot that son-of-a-bitch and I didn’t do a thing to stop him. I was glad he did it. Might as well have been a damned cheerleader for him.” She stared past him, her lips pulled down in a thin, grim line.
Lost in the past, no doubt.
“I have to go to bed.” Abruptly, she left him alone.
How in the hell her heart would be healed after all these years, Travis could only guess.
Chapter 11
The nightmare held her tightly in its grip. One that had her finding her mother and Pete Moffett behind every door. They held onto ten-year-old Storm as she tried to pull him away. Then adult Storm was there, and he had a hold of his younger self as well.
Try as she might, she couldn’t reach him. Whenever she tried, Pete made a grab for her. No, she couldn’t be caught by him. Not even for Storm. All around her she heard screaming. Hers, Storm’s. Blending with laughter. Not the laughter of happiness. Laughter bordering on the maniacal. The screaming pressed sharply against her ears—
The sound of something crashing to the floor over Rio’s head drew her away from the nastiness of her own nightmare enough to realize the racket upstairs had woven itself into her dream.
This noise was very real. Another cry, masculine and full of alarm, pulled her out of bed.
She dashed out of her room and headed toward the stairs without consideration of her own safety. If Travis needed help, she was the only one around to give it.
She’d never been on the second floor. It had always been a “no trespassing” zone since living there, so she had no clue which room belonged to Travis.
The commotion seemed to come from right over her bedroom. There were four doors upstairs. Three stood open. The first must’ve been Jessa’s, the second with no personal touches. Another guestroom, she assumed. The third door was a bathroom, so that left the last door.
Travis’s room.
From behind the door she heard a low moan, sounding somewhere between alarm and pain. It was unlikely some intruder had broken into the house and had ended up in his room, but she couldn’t even guess what was happening behind Travis’s door.
Her hand curled around the doorknob and she turned it slowly, pushing the door open a crack.
“Travis?”
Pale moonlight flooded the room, thin and leaving too many shadows. The soft glow lit enough for Rio to see no one else was in the room.
She could make out Travis’s shape on the bed and as her vision adjusted to the dim light, she saw the sheet twisted around his long, bare legs. The blankets hung off the side of the bed and the alarm clock dangled from the side of the table next to him.
Rio took one more step inside the room. “Travis?” she repeated.
His only response was another distressed groan, his arms flung out in front of him.
A nightmare. One hell of a nightmare. She approached the bed. A lamp lay on the floor, so she picked it up. He muttered something. The words were so low and slurred, she couldn’t make out a single one.
Do I wake him up? She couldn’t leave him in whatever place he was in his head.
She stepped closer to the bed, trying to ignore how his bare legs and torso affected her. The mere thought of touching him sent a flood of heat through her body, along with a surge in her heartrate. She drew in an uneven breath.
“Travis,” she said loudly, not touching him. “Travis.”
Again, no response. Slowly, she placed her hand on his arm. He was slick with sweat. She shook him gingerly. “Travis.”
In a split second, before Rio could even react, Travis grabbed her by the arm and pulled her with incredible force down onto the bed, pinning her against the mattress.
“Travis!” This time she yelled his name and struggled against his weight. She realized he still hadn’t awoken. Somehow she’d become a part of his nightmare, and she didn’t think she played the role of a good guy.
She also noticed, like a sledgehammer to her gut and senses, that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Travis slept in the buff. If seeing him shirtless the other night had sent her mind into a spin, this was like being trapped in one of those crazy Turkish Twist carnival rides.
“Travis, wake up.”
He stared down at her, but she doubted he really saw her. Not with the fire of pure hate, mixed with fear and determination, burning in his stare.
God, he wouldn’t actually hit her, would he? Right now his hands were clenched around her arms in a tight grip that promised to leave marks.
“Travis, it’s me, Rio. Wake up!”
Slowly the nightmare drained away from his eyes. His face relaxed as whatever he’d been seeing passed from his mind. He furrowed his brow. Maybe he’d started to recognize her, like he walked through a thinning fog, and could finally see what was really in front of him.
“Rio,” he said harshly and pulled his hands away as if her flesh burned him. “Rio, oh my God.”
She pushed herself up and sat still for a moment, no the strength or balance to stand. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to start the blood flowing again.
“You were having a nightmare. I heard you from downstairs. I—I came up to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” Vividly aware of him this close, covered only partially with a thin sheet, his body sweat-damp, Rio could barely concentrate on her own words.
Now the fear had subsided and he’d returned to himself, only one thing stuck in her mind. She wanted him. The want left her mouth dry and her head reeling.
“Sometimes I have them. The war . . . Anyway, I’m sorry for grabbing you like that.”
“It’s all right. I should probably go. If you’re okay.”
She made the mistake then of studying him. Never look at a man you want while he’s virtually naked and sitting in bed next to you.
Of course she hadn’t been in that position before. Hadn’t met a man she wanted to be with enough to put herself in this position. Travis was the first.
“I’ll be fine,” he murmured. His gaze held hers with a power as strong as the physical grip he’d had her in.
She could no more release herself from it than she could’ve pushed him off her when he’d been locked up in his nightmare.
So, she could continue sitting here like a doe in a hunter’s line of fire, or she could do something about it, like touch him, let her hand trail down his chest. She wanted to see if his heart still beat fast from his nightmare. Hers certainly raced, and it had nothing to do with phantom visions and everything to do with the very solid and real man next to her.
To seduce him went against the way she’d lived her life up to this moment. She hadn’t ever progressed this far with a man. Occasionally she’d kiss the few men she’d become involved with, but beyond that point, she’d run. If they tried to push her comfort zone, then things became too complicated and the time would come to move on.
Leaving was out of the question. She’d known that for weeks now. She’d committed herself for the long haul.
A relationship with Travis didn’t play a part. He was a friend, someone who helped her along her way. Sitting next to him, contemplating making a move she knew they both wanted, wasn’t a good idea.
Yet she couldn’t walk out the door.
Silence filled the room, except for the sound of their breathing, hers ragged, his even. She glanced at him. His brows still drew together, his lips pulled down. She couldn’t read the emotion in his gaze, but his muscles were bunched and tense. Ready for anything.
To be able to touch him, slide her hands down his smooth, muscled chest, caress those long legs . . . She didn’t have the experience of a normal twenty-seven-year-old, yet she had all the desires. The ones she’d kept locked up in a kryptonite-enca
sed box deep within her.
And it was bursting at the seams.
For once she’d open it and find out what would happen.
“Rio.” His voice was a jagged whisper. So he wasn’t immune, didn’t have some kind of ironman control.
“Yes, Travis.”
“I want you.”
That was her invitation. She didn’t need to hear anything else. She’d touched his bare flesh before. Their kiss in the kitchen—
This reached a whole new level.
Perspiration from his nightmare still clung to his skin. She explored the shape and contour of each muscle with a light, curious stroke. Her fingertips traced across his shoulder and down his arm. Strong arms. They’d have to be to make it through what he’d faced in Afghanistan. She moved her touch to his back and he let her. His face hovered inches away from hers. Now his breathing hitched unevenly.
She smiled. She’d never made a man tremble before. Trembling not from weakness, but more from holding himself in check, his passion ready to explode.
At last her fingers drifted up and ran over his face, his high cheekbones, his straight nose, and down to his waiting lips. Lips that could set her on fire. And if the kiss from before could cause such a reaction, what would lying next to him, being wrapped in his arms do to her?
She was willing to find out. She touched her lips to his. A sigh slipped past and she pressed more firmly, sensually pushing him further along.
When his hands tenderly cupped each side of her head, she was lost. The kiss progressed from light and testing to drugging, mindless. How could a kiss consume her so quickly? It had a life of its own, bent on making the blood in her veins roar and race like a river in springtime. This kiss, the way his hand moved down her neck, frightened her with its voracity.
They were making a mistake. God, she could see that plainly, even through the passion. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. She’d wanted this for weeks now, could hardly bear to be in a room with him because too often her wants stood front and center, blotting everything else out. It wasn’t like her. She’d always been able to stuff these emotions, these physical needs away. No more.
The Staying Kind Page 12
