Travis

by Rebecca Elise

  Holy shit…I am fucked.

  Chapter Two

  Gracie

  I have never been attracted to guys with gages in their ears or tattoos on their faces, but oh my God this guy is hot. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he strides through the glass doors, up to the counter, and slides onto a bar stool. He drops a notepad and pencil onto the counter-top before reaching over to grab a menu.

  He is absolutely beautiful. Tall and thin, but slightly muscular, tattoos climbing up and down both arms, short, caramel colored brown hair, brooding gray eyes and he has the number twenty tattooed almost catty-corner to his right eye. He is exactly the type of guy that my mother would take one look at and tell me to stay far away from, which makes him all the more appealing.

  “You don’t get paid to gawk at the customers, Toots,” Russell whispers from behind me. He is the head server but seems to think he owns the place. He places his hands on my back and gives me a hefty push towards the tattooed hottie. I walk nervously over to where he is sitting, smoothing my hands down the front of my white apron as I do.

  “Hello,” I say. I pull a face as my voice takes on this unnatural high-pitched squeak. He must notice it as well because he looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

  “Can I, uh, what can I get for you?” I manage to spit out.

  “Coffee, black and a Spanish omelet.”

  I continue staring at him as I grab a tan mug and set it down in front of him. I wonder what his story is. If he has a girlfriend or even a string of them. I can’t imagine how a guy so incredibly sexy could be single. That’s how it always works, right? The hot ones are always taken in some way or another. He glances up at me and I can feel my cheeks flush a deep red, having been caught.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to stare at people?” he growls.

  The sound of hostility rings out loud and clear in his voice, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why. I don’t even know the guy. I’ve only been in this Godforsaken town for a total of three days, which is hardly enough time to make an enemy. I mumble out an apology as I grab the pot of regular coffee and pour it into his mug, making sure to keep my eyes down so that I don’t catch his gaze again. Not that he is even looking at me anymore.

  “Travis Eugene Foster! Now I know your daddy and I raised you better than to talk to a lady like that! Don’t you dare give Gracie here a hard time on her first day on account of the fact that you are in a poor mood,” a voice yells out from behind me.

  I turn around to see Connie standing there with her hands on her hips, giving Travis the look of death. Connie doesn’t actually work here. She’s the owner, Aidan’s, mother and apparently Travis’s as well. She likes to help out and will apparently take it upon herself to freshen people’s beverages or grab their desserts. Everyone tells me that it’s best to just let her do it.

  “Yes ma’am,” Travis says sullenly.

  Connie walks up to the counter, leans over, and without batting an eyelash says, “Apologize.”

  Travis looks over at me, his eyes are burning with fire, and an insincere smile forms on his mouth. If he is trying to hide his annoyance with me, he isn’t doing a very good job.

  “I’m sorry, Gracie.”

  Connie continues scolding him as I set the coffee pot back down and I push through the doors leading into the kitchen. I wish I could say putting distance between us snapped my body out of it, but my heart is pounding, my hands are shaking and the fire deep within my belly is screaming out, “Hell, yes!”

  “Spanish omelet,” I say to Nathanial. Nathanial is the head chef and Aidan and Travis’s brother.

  “Sounds like you met Travis,” he says with a grin.

  “You could say that,” I respond dryly.

  “Don’t let Trav get to you. He’s got this whole brooding, moody artist thing going on,” Nathanial explains as he cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl and starts whipping them with a whisk.

  I nod, watching him as he adds chopped up onions, peppers and cheese to the egg. He catches me watching him and smiles. I feel embarrassed, having now been caught staring at a second brother today. This is a little bit different though. Nathanial is gorgeous, no doubt, but I am not attracted to him the way I am attracted to Travis. Nathanial is too pretty for my taste. He has the same gray eye color and brown hair as Travis, although his hair is currently covered by his chef’s hat, and his facial features are a little more angular than Travis’s are. If the whole chef thing doesn’t work for him, Nathanial could easily make it as a model. Besides, I am actually watching him as he cooks and not actually staring at him.

  “I’ve never been able to make a decent omelet,” I say, shaking my head. “Mine are always wonky and slightly burnt. Half the stuff falls out when I flip it over. By the time it gets to my plate, it just looks like slop.”

  “It’s not that hard. I’ll teach you sometime.” He slides the omelet onto a plate and adds a couple slices of bacon. He flashes me a grin, revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Order up.”

  I take the plate from him and sigh as I turn to walk back through the push doors. Travis is still seated in the same spot at the counter. His mother has left him and is gossiping with a booth of ladies in the corner. Travis is hunched over, drawing furiously on the paper in front of him.

  I walk over, trying to look confident as if his bad attitude hasn’t had any effect on me whatsoever.

  “Spanish omelet,” I say as I slide the plate in front of him.

  He glances at it and looks up at me. “Did I ask for bacon?”

  I shrug and give him an ‘I don’t know what to tell you’ look. “I didn’t tell him to put bacon on the plate. He made that decision himself. So the way I look at it, you have two options. Either eat the bacon or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me but if you have a problem with the bacon being on your plate, I suggest you take it up with Nathanial.”

  Travis leans back a little bit. A small, amused smile plays at his lips. He picks up a piece of bacon, brings it up to his full lips and takes a bite. “Delicious.”

  I smile, trying to suppress a laugh at his reaction. I don’t doubt the majority of Travis is moody and brooding, but I think there is probably another side to him as well that is sweet and caring. He seems a little bit guarded, though, and I wonder why.

  “Can I get you anything else?” I ask, not wanting to walk away from him quite yet.

  “Nope,” Travis says with a bit of an attitude. He turns his attention back to his notepad. Whatever light just transpired between us is gone. I wonder what switch flipped inside of him to make him transform so quickly. Whatever it is, it makes my heart drop down into my stomach.

  I turn around to find myself nearly face-to-face with Russell, who looks positively pissed off. “Look, Gracie.” He spits my name out as though it leaves a nasty taste in his mouth. “I don’t know how they do things where you come from, but around here we don’t give attitude to the customers, especially not with Mr. Foster’s family. Do it again, and it will be your job. Do you understand that?”

  “Y-yes,” I say. I am so embarrassed that Russell chose to reprimand me right here for everyone to see and hear, including Travis. I can’t bear to turn around to see if he is watching this go down, although I can feel his gray eyes burning a hole into my back, so I know that he is. Part of me wishes he would come to my defense, but he doesn’t. I don’t know why I thought he would. Maybe it’s because that is what I would have done.

  “Is there a problem, Russell?” Connie calls from the booth she is sitting at across the diner.

  Great, if people weren’t paying attention before, they certainly are now.

  “No, Miss. Connie, no problem,” Russell says, flashing her a fake smile. He turns back to me and sneers before storming off. I don’t know what his problem is. Whatever it is, I hope he works it out soon. I’m not sure how long I will be able to work with his attitude before my smart mouth gets the best of me and I tell him exactly where he c
an stick it.

  “He really needs to get laid,” Molly, another waitress, says behind me.

  “You think that’s what it is?” I ask her.

  “Absolutely,” she says. “I guess I would be angry all the time too if I was a twenty-six year old with no woman and no prospects either.”

  "He’s only twenty-six?” I ask. “I would have guessed closer to forty.”

  “That’s what no sex and a crappy job does to you. He’s going bald far earlier than he should be.”

  Not expecting her to say that, a loud laugh erupts from my belly. Russell walks past us, glaring. “You two don’t get paid to stand around here and chit chat. Get to work.”

  “Do you ever get tired of being such a tight ass?” Molly asks him.

  Someone laughs from behind me. I turn around to see Travis watching the exchange with an amused look on his face. I bite my lower lip, my head dipping to the side as I watch him. He definitely has that brooding thing going for him, but when he smiles, his whole face brightens up. I wish I was the one that made him smile like that and not Molly. Travis starts to turn his attention back to his notebook, and for just a moment, our eyes lock on to each other, and it is only me and him. Everyone else seems to disappear, but then something inside of him snaps. His eyes darken as his brow turns down and his beautiful smile quickly transforms into the same scowl he had given me earlier.

  “He’s an intense one, isn’t he?” Molly whispers into my ear.

  “Is he always so warm and inviting?” I ask.

  Molly laughs quietly. She pauses, looking thoughtfully at Travis before answering. “Travis is a bit of a long story. I’m sure you’ll hear plenty about his past, people around here like to gossip because they don’t have anything better to do with their time, but if you are going to hear it from someone, it might as well be from someone that sees the good in him as well. Tomorrow night is karaoke night over at The Rusty Nail. Two-dollar shots, half-priced beer and all the wings you can eat. It only takes one shot of tequila to get these lips flapping.”

  “You’re a cheap and easy date,” I tease her. “I work ‘til eight but can meet you there at ten.”

  The door chimes and a couple of people walk in just as Russell passes by us again. Molly scampers off as I hand the newcomers a couple of menus. I glance over at Travis as I turn to grab a pot of coffee. He doesn’t seem to notice me at all. Most people would probably be put off by his moody attitude, but for some reason, it makes me want to find out whatever I can about him.

  Chapter Three

  Travis

  I’m being a jerk.

  I wish I could say that I don’t know why, but I do. I want her. Badly. Gracie seems like a sweet girl and she’s pretty. Actually, no, she isn’t pretty. She’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. And not my usual type at all. I usually go for the typical dark haired, pale skinned, tatted up biker chicks. Which is a far cry from tanned, blond haired, blue eyed Gracie. Maybe that’s a good thing though. The only thing “my type” has been good for is getting me into trouble.

  Let’s take a moment to delve into the disaster that is my dating history for a moment, shall we?

  There was Veronica, who was my first girlfriend. All she had to do was promise me a hand job, or whatever else she had in her sexual arsenal, and she got me to do whatever she wanted. The only thing that got me, aside from a couple mediocre blow jobs, was a juvenile record for drug possession. That shit wasn’t even mine. It was hers. Of course, as soon as I said that, she turned on the water works saying that I was lying and I was trying to peer pressure her into some shit. The drugs were in my pocket, making it my word against hers, so obviously, the blame fell on me.

  My mother threatened me with military school, and if there was one thing I knew, it was to not even think about calling my mother’s bluff. I started to stand my ground with Veronica and, when I did, she started screwing around with Marcus Leary.

  Then, there was Tabitha, who was crazy. She stole my dog when I broke up with her. That relationship was followed by Brittany, who I was stupid enough to move in with when I was eighteen. I would give her my half of the rent, which she swore she was giving the landlord. Imagine my surprise when we were slapped with an eviction notice. You would think my reign of stupidity would end there, but no such luck.

  From there, I moved on to Linley. She was HOT. Tats all up and down both arms. Piercings in some very seductive places. Men didn’t hide the fact that they wanted her, which brought out my possessive side. That redeeming quality of mine earned me a couple of assault charges for engaging in a few bar brawls.

  But that’s my past. I’m not that guy anymore, or at least I am trying my hardest to not be. The only problem, though, is that I live in Brooksville and in a hole in the wall town like this, everybody knows everyone else’s business. I had to move back in with my parents for a while because I couldn’t find anyone that would hire me due to my reputation, therefore, I didn’t have enough money to get an apartment.

  I started drinking and using – heavily. I had been dabbling in pot and alcohol for quite some time and ended up moving on to heroin and whatever hard liquor I could get my underage hands one, which was easy to do with the types of people I was surrounding myself with. This got me even more arrests for drunken and disorderly conduct, destruction of personal property and possession and I eventually wound up in rehab, which I only agreed to go to because it would have been court ordered anyway, and I had to attend a bunch of NA meetings, which I still occasionally go to.

  Rehab ended up being the best possible thing that could have happened to me. Claire Edmunds, Crazy ass Claire as we used to call her, volunteered teaching art classes at Clover Lake Rehabilitation Center. Art was always the one thing I was good at. She started talking to me one day, I’m not sure why. Maybe I just looked like someone who needed to be “preached” to. She told me about how she lost her son, Jake, to an overdose. Jake was only a couple of years older than me. He went to school with my brother, Aidan.

  Claire was the first person, outside of my family, to see the good in me. She promised me if I could get myself clean, she would give me a job in her store. The only condition was that I had to stay clean. That was four years ago and I’ve been clean ever since then, though I will admit I have been tempted to fall off of the wagon a time or two.

  Working in her art supply store wasn’t the best, but it was a paycheck and I was able to get a discount on supplies. A year after I started working for her, she began selling some of my paintings. Six months after that, people started commissioning me to do pieces for them. About a year ago, I was able to quit my job at the store, though I still see Claire on a somewhat regular basis.

  “Bring your plate over to the booth,” Aidan, says, pulling me out of my thoughts as he walks right past me.

  I tuck my sketchbook underneath one arm, stick my pencil behind my ear and grab my plate with one hand and my mug with the other. I walk over to where he is sitting and set my plate and mug down before scooting into the booth.

  6th Street Diner has always been in our family. Aidan bought our father out a few months ago when dad decided he wanted to retire early. He recently asked me to do a couple paintings for him. I think he is trying to re-vamp the place to bring in more business. I’m not sure how he plans on doing that seeing as the only people that hang out in Brooksville are the residents.

  “Do you have any idea what you want?” I ask, without bothering to say hello.

  “Anything to replace all of mom’s cow and chicken pictures. I’m all about the down home feel but they have got to go.”

  Aidan sticks his hand up and waves someone over with two fingers.

  “Good morning Mr. Foster.”

  God, her voice is so fucking sweet.

  “Good morning, Gracie,” Aidan says cheerfully. “How is your first day going?”

  “Good, Sir. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Cup of coffee would be nice.” He flashes her a toothy grin and I feel my s
tomach clench with…what is that? Jealousy? That can’t possibly be right.

  “Absolutely. Is there anything else I can get for you Mr…uh…Foster?” she asks me.

  I shake my head without saying anything.

  “She has a nice ass,” Aidan says, just loud enough for me to hear as she walks away.

  I raise an eyebrow and stare at him. “Seriously?”

  “Tell me you don’t agree.”

  “I do, but she’s your employee. That would cross so many lines.”

  “I know that.” He rolls his eyes. “I never said I was going to do anything. I just said she had a nice ass.”

  Gracie reappears a moment later and sets a mug down in front of Aidan. He thanks her and she nods before turning to walk back behind the counter. I glance up as she departs from our table, watching the way her hips sway as she moves.

  “Dude, that girl is so far out of your league,” Aidan says with a laugh as he watches me staring at her.

  I shrug. He’s right but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view. I wonder what it would be like to be with a nice girl like her. Assuming that she really is as sweet as she looks. She has to be. There is no way she is anything else. Sarcastic, yes. Raging bitch lunatic, no way in hell.

  “Never said I was interested,” I say in a bored, monotone voice.

  “You don’t have too. I can tell you are by the way you are looking at her.”

  “That asshole, Russell, has been giving her a hard time,” I respond, ignoring his comment.