Rachel, Out of Office

by Christina Hovland

  But he was Travis, so she was certain that’s why it would hurt her.

  “That’s not how it works, Travis.” She hugged herself. “We both know that’s not how it works.”

  He shoved his hands in his hair. “Fine, agreed, we can’t prevent each other from falling.”

  She nodded.

  “But we can promise to soften the landing,” he said, hoping she’d agree.

  “I would love to do the things I want to do just to see what happens. Within reason, you know? Not skydiving or anything like that, but other things.” She didn’t have to point at him for him to know what she meant.

  “Then take the risk, Rach.”

  “Who’s going to make sure Gavin doesn’t re-home the puppies if my parachute doesn’t inflate?” she asked. “I can’t jump, because there are too many things I need to ensure are taken care of.”

  “You’re not responsible for the entire world.” He started toward her, but she stepped back, so he paused.

  “There’s no plan B for me,” she said as though she truly thought it were true. “If something happens to me, everything in my boys’ world collapses.”

  “But what do you want to do?” he asked.

  The answer to that was, apparently, simple. “You,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, okay.” He stepped toward her. “You need to try somethin’ new without risk. I’m willing to give that to you.”

  “How?” She didn’t seem convinced at all that this was possible, but people underestimated him all the time. Usually, he didn’t give them a reason not to, but with Rachel he wouldn’t fuck it up.

  “I’m going to make you some promises,” he said.

  She didn’t move back when he stepped toward her this time.

  “I’m going to promise you that no one needs to know about us. I’m going to promise you that I’ll respect whatever you decide when it comes to us. I’m going to promise to have your back, even if we decide things aren’t working out.”

  “And if you decide you don’t want me? After we move forward?”

  “Then I’ll promise that I’ll still be there to help you out with whatever you need.”

  “What if I really piss you off?”

  The lump in his throat seemed thicker. “Then I won’t do it for you, I’ll do it for your boys.”

  “What do you want in return?” she asked, cautiously.

  “A shot at seeing what happens.” He trailed the edge of his index finger along her cheekbone. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Rachel opened her mouth and closed it, open and close—like a trout that wanted to jump back into the water but also wanted to see what else the world had to offer on land.

  “Okay,” she said, finally.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  The door handle rattled. “Mom?” Brady called from the other side of the oak. “It’s locked.”

  Rachel pulled away from Travis. “Hang on, sweetie.”

  “Can you lie down with me?” Brady called. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Be right there.” Rachel seemed to be doing an inventory of her clothing—which was, unfortunately, in order, given he hadn’t had a chance to remove any of it.

  The door handle rattled again. Travis made a mental note to thank Dave for his intrusion earlier. Better Dave than Brady.

  After adjusting her shirt, Rachel leaned forward and gently, so very gently, pressed a light kiss to Travis’s lips. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said against her mouth.

  She smiled, bit at her bottom lip, and nodded, their noses brushing with the small movement.

  “One second.” She turned to head toward the door.

  Travis watched her walk away.

  He didn’t move for a long while after she’d left the room, distracting Brady and heading down the hallway toward his bedroom.

  Travis swallowed and glanced at the dogs, then to the new linens he needed to swap onto his bed, and then to the blank space where Rachel had been earlier on the sofa.

  The memory of her mouth against his had his insides pooling into melted sunshine.

  Pure Rachel.

  He closed his eyes, and he smiled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I love you dearly but no questions until I have had my first cup of coffee.” — Darla, Texas, USA

  Rachel

  “Mooom,” Kellan said, milking the O in her name. “They come two in a bag for a reason.”

  “One tart, and then you have to eat real food.” Rachel was careful to keep her voice low so that if Evelyn or Bob happened to be nearby, they wouldn’t hear her.

  Evelyn took special offense to Rachel’s assertion that the toaster tarts did not, in fact, merit consideration as a solid breakfast option. Mostly, though, sugar wound her kids up tighter than red dye in gummy bears, so she tried to keep it to a minimum.

  After popping a couple of the cinnamon-sugar-cream-cheese tarts into the toaster—one for each kid—she started cracking eggs. A scramble would contain enough protein, she hoped, that it would counter the sugar filling, pastry dough, and frosting.

  “Good morning, all.” Travis sauntered into the kitchen, looking rather dashing with his hair totally messed up. Still in his black pajamas from the night before, now they were rumpled from sleep. He looked great rumpled. Unshaved, he sported impressive stubble, too.

  Rachel liked men fresh from the razor. She did. Stubble, however, was her favorite.

  She glanced up mid-crack, and the eggshell collapsed in her hand with the pressure she inadvertently used.

  Shoot.

  Pete and Re-Pete followed Travis into the kitchen, ignoring everyone and going immediately to the kibble in their bowls.

  “Good morning,” she replied, cheery, despite egg goo dripping down her wrist.

  The warm smile Travis gave her made this all feel so domestic. And right. And her stomach did the flippy thing.

  “Did you boys sleep well?” Travis asked, sitting down at the table.

  They nodded as Rachel plated and set a toaster tart in front of each kid.

  “Can I get you breakfast?” Rachel asked, turning her focus to Travis.

  He glanced up at her, so close and still far away. “I’ll get it.”

  “We’re having toaster tarts and eggs.” She went back to cracking eggs, careful not to squeeze too hard.

  Travis stood and moved closer to her. Not so close that he was in her personal space, but close enough that she could smell his cedarwood shampoo.

  “Yum,” he said, cracking open a foil packet holding a raspberry tart. The foil was the special kind with a paper outer layer and a foil interior.

  He slipped the breakfast pastry into one of the pop-up toasters lining the edge of the counter. The kitchen may have had only a couple of spatulas, but it had four oversized toasters to make up for it. Gently, Travis ran his hand along the waistband at her back on his way to snag a plate from the cupboard to the left of the sink. The movement was barely noticeable, but she still felt every tender spot he touched.

  He glanced at the boys. She followed his gaze. They were totally absorbed in watching cartoons on a tablet and, therefore, oblivious to the snap in the air surrounding their mother.

  Travis deftly pressed a light kiss onto her neck. “Morning, sunshine.”

  The low timbre of his voice and his breath against her skin had goose bumps rising all over.

  He trailed his hand to her arm and gave a gentle squeeze.

  Oh. Oh dear. The bottom of her stomach seemed to fall to her toes.

  She cleared her throat. “Morning,” she said, though her version was not nearly as smooth as his.

  “Sleep well?” he asked, grabbing the plate and
moving back to the toaster.

  His body brushed past hers that time, too, igniting more nerve endings.

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  Between Brady, clients, and a brain that wound and rewound around her encounter with Travis, she’d slept like crap.

  “Brady didn’t settle?” he asked, voice low and only for her.

  “Took a bit, but he finally crashed.” She pushed the eggs around the pan with her spatula. “I went back to the den after he was out, but…uh…you weren’t there.”

  She hadn’t meant for that to sound like an accusation. Really, it’d been good to finish her work without distraction, but she’d been more than a little disappointed that he wasn’t waiting when she returned.

  Yes, they’d agreed that they’d reconnect the next day. That didn’t mean she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Hoping that he’d wait.

  A long pause stretched between them. When Travis didn’t say anything, she glanced at him.

  He was studying her intently.

  She gulped.

  “Next time”—he leaned forward into her space—“I’ll be sure to stick around.”

  Good. That was…

  “Okay,” she said.

  Evelyn took that moment to bustle into the kitchen, an orange box of toaster tarts in her hands, chattering to Bob about the varieties of pumpkin and which were most effective when baked into a pastry.

  Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene with her son and the woman he wasn’t supposed to be around without a chaperone.

  “It’s Rachel,” Evelyn said. “Good morning.”

  Rachel started to open her mouth to say—

  “Good morning,” Bob said before she could form the words.

  “Good morning,” she said at the same time but, since it came a little after his greeting, hers sounded like more of an afterthought.

  Bob headed straight toward the coffeepot.

  Rachel was mid-swipe with the spatula in her egg scramble when Evelyn stepped beside her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  Rachel’s pulse paused with the tone of Evelyn’s words.

  “Eggs,” Rachel replied.

  “Rachel, dear, we are a breakfast pastry family.” Evelyn dropped the box she’d been carrying on the table.

  “Mama,” Travis said low and with what sounded like a great deal of restraint. “Rachel can fix whatever she’d like for breakfast.”

  “I guess we are a breakfast pastry and egg family, while I’m here.” Rachel laughed, but no one joined in.

  One of the boys pushed pause on their show. The entire kitchen descended into awkward silence.

  “Mom, where’s the milk?” Brady asked.

  Rachel set the spatula beside the stove to go in search of the milk in the refrigerator. Then Kellan needed a refill, Evelyn asked for a glass, and, in the midst of it all, Rachel decided coffee was a very good idea—so she poured herself a cup.

  “Are those burning?” Evelyn tilted her head toward Rachel’s smoking eggs.

  Crap.

  She hurried back to the stove.

  “Not burned, just really well done.” Rachel tried to flip the eggs onto a plate, but they stuck to the nonstick coating that was, it turned out, not so nonstick after all.

  Rachel stood, unable to form a sentence, spatula still in hand, staring at the smoke rising from the pan.

  The eggs she’d been making for her kids to offset their sugar intake were totally wrecked.

  She tossed them into the dog bowls, but even they gave her stink-eye about her breakfast offering.

  “I guess it’s tarts for breakfast!” Evelyn bustled through the kitchen, grabbing the now-unnecessary spatula and dropping it in the sink. “We’ve got a new flavor we want everyone to try. It’s our first go at pumpkin spice.”

  “How does she do that?” Rachel whispered to Travis.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Always get her way?”

  “It’s her gift.” He shrugged.

  “Did you know that most pumpkin products aren’t pumpkin at all?” Brady asked, reaching for the box and studying the label. “They’re really squash that’s dyed orange to look like pumpkin.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s just easier.”

  “Pumpkin is gross,” Kellan said immediately. “I like eggs, though.”

  Evelyn brushed him aside. “Eggs are fine for lunch. No one needs that kind of heavy for breakfast.” She pressed a kiss to Kellan’s temple, leaving a bright red lipstick print. “And don’t you worry, we added extra sweetener, so they’ll taste delicious.”

  “More sugar?” Rachel asked, ready to grab the spatula and whack the box from her son’s hands.

  “I’ll try the new flavor,” Brady announced, handing the box to Bob who handed it to Travis. “I like pumpkin pie.”

  “Brady…” Rachel raised her eyebrows in his direction. She’d been clear about her one-tart rule.

  Brady whispered in response, “You said it’s rude not to try something when it’s offered to me.”

  Yes, but that was before the dogs ate his burned breakfast.

  Rachel made an attempt at the box breathing that April had showed her shortly before she hopped on the plane to Twin Lakes. In for four counts, hold for four counts, out for four counts, hold for four counts. Repeat.

  She was on her third round before her blood pressure began to drop back to within a normal range.

  “Evelyn and I are heading down to Confluence for the day,” Bob said. “We were thinking you and the boys might enjoy taking the scenic route with us.”

  Um…Rachel had a call starting in thirty minutes and she expected it’d take a while. “That’s not possible.”

  “We’ll bring the dogs, too,” Evelyn assured, as though that were the problem. She was filling the line of toasters on the countertop with pumpkin pie tarts.

  “I’ve got meetings today,” Rachel said. “I was hoping the boys could go swim at the lake or something with the rest of the family.”

  “They can come with us,” Bob said. “We’ll have a good time.”

  “Travis and Dave can come along, too, and you can have the whole place to yourself.” Evelyn gave Travis a don’t-you-dare look; not subtle at all.

  “Nope.” Travis chomped his raspberry tart. “I’ve got an R&D committee meeting at ten. Then a Distribution meeting at two. I’ve got to hop on the conference calls.”

  Bob and Evelyn went still.

  “You’re meeting with Distribution?” Bob asked.

  Evelyn looked like someone had smacked her in the face. “And R&D?”

  Does he even know what that means?

  Travis finished chewing, looking between his parents and Rachel. “Don’t look so shocked, I’m technically the vice-president of distribution. I get the email reminders.”

  Evelyn’s eyes stayed wide. “But you never go to the meetings.”

  From what Rachel had heard, he never did anything when it came to work.

  “Yeah, well, had some ideas I drew up to run past the team.” He lifted his remaining tart. “Can we not make a big deal about this?”

  “What’s an R&D meeting?” Brady asked, looking at Rachel.

  “Research and development,” Travis answered, ruffling her son’s hair. “Where they decide what flavors are coming up next.”

  “Maybe tell them not to do the pumpkin,” Brady said quietly, the words solemn. “It’s not good.”

  “Where’s Dave?” Bob asked, changing the subject but obviously having a silent conversation with Evelyn.

  “Probably sleeping.” Travis said around another bite of tart. “He had a late night.”

  Evelyn tsked. “Bob, you should go wake your son.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Travis said. “When I say he had a late night, he sho
wed up around three this morning. I caught him sneaking in when I took the dogs out.”

  Bob didn’t budge. “After I drink my coffee.”

  “I guess Dave can stay here, too,” Evelyn said, resigned. “We’ll take the boys with us.”

  Bob looked up at Rachel. “That okay with you?”

  After Evelyn got them good and sugared up? Yes, it was totally fine. After an hour in the car with that amount of blood sugar, Evelyn might rethink her stance on the abundance of breakfast pastry the boys consumed.

  “Sounds like they’ll have fun.” Rachel did her very best to smirk only on the inside. “Thank you, that would be great.”

  “And the dogs,” Travis added. “You’ll want to take the dogs. Don’t leave them out.”

  Bob glared at Travis over the top of his mug. “How’d I wind up on mutt duty?”

  “You married me,” Evelyn said, cheery.

  Travis’s eyes met Rachel’s and the heat beneath the surface was enough to…well…toast a breakfast pastry all by itself.

  Without any other options apparently available, Rachel grabbed a pumpkin pie tart for herself.

  Of all the pies, pumpkin pie was her least favorite.

  And Brady was correct, this version was very not good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The silver lining to the dark cloud of being a single mom is that all decisions are your own.” — Rosey, Colorado, USA

  Rachel

  “Where’s he going?” Rachel asked as she peeked out the side of the curtain by the front door.

  Dave was climbing into one of the black SUVs in the driveway.

  She’d finally wrapped up her call and went in search of some lunch. And Travis. Lunch and Travis. Possibly lunch with Travis.

  What she’d found was Travis finishing up his first conference call and Dave heading out to whereabouts unknown.

  “Don’t know.” Travis came behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he pulled the curtain a little farther. “But he’s Dave, so wherever he’s going, it’ll probably be fun.”

  The light way he said that held a tone of wistful.

  “Meetings weren’t so fun?” she asked.

  “They were work.” He shifted behind her, his chest still right there.