by Trish Milburn - The Texan's Cowgirl Bride (Texas Rodeo Barons)
No, it was something else, and she’d felt it the moment they’d crossed paths at the rodeo. She’d never felt such a powerful attraction before, and it had hit her when she least expected it. Add in the fact that Travis was totally the wrong person to be attracted to, and she wanted to curse the storm for putting her in her current awkward situation.
After all, her past relationships had been casual and short-lived, something she couldn’t imagine with Travis. He was the kind of guy who got married, loved his wife completely and mourned her loss years later. She had a hard time seeing herself in that serious of a relationship, though she’d never wondered why. Had watching her father lose not one but two wives scarred her somehow?
Shaking off her attempt at self-diagnosis, she realized the washing machine was already half-full of water. She tossed her clothes in followed by Travis’s. When she grabbed for the last item, she halted her hand just before touching it. A pair of black boxer briefs lay there atop the dryer, taunting her with the knowledge that the man currently tending the stir-fry wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Her body flooded with warmth as she threw the briefs into the wash and slammed the lid a little too forcefully.
“You okay?” Travis called out.
“Yeah, lid slipped.”
Remembering her resolve from a minute before, she straightened, took a confident breath and returned to the kitchen.
“I think it’s done,” Travis said.
She pointed toward one of the cabinets. “Grab a couple of plates out of there, please.” When he handed them to her, one at a time, she loaded them up with food.
“Looks as good as it smells,” Travis said as he accepted his plate.
“What’s important is how it tastes.”
He scooped up a bite and uttered an “mmm” of appreciation. “Even better.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked for a man who wasn’t related to her, and she had to admit it was nice to receive the compliment. Her own plate in hand, she headed for the couch so she could use watching the weather report as a buffer between her and Travis. It really was ridiculous how nervous he made her.
When Travis plopped down on the couch, too, she could have kicked herself for not choosing her chair instead.
It’s okay, silly. There’s plenty of space between you.
She focused on the TV so intently that when a huge boom of thunder sounded like an explosion right above her living room, she yelped. She glanced toward the window. “Holy crap on a cracker.”
“It keeps this up all night and I don’t think either of us is going to get any sleep.”
It had to be her imagination, totally her imagination. Because Travis couldn’t be thinking what she was—that there were other reasons for not getting any sleep. When she dared a glance his direction, he was focused on the TV. Yep, totally her imagination. The storm wasn’t going to be the reason she wouldn’t get any sleep.
She did her best to focus on the weather report and finished eating her stir-fry. Once her plate was empty, she grabbed Travis’s, as well, and headed toward the kitchen.
“You want more?” she asked from a safer distance.
“No, I’m stuffed. Thank you.”
See, that was a nice, normal thing to say. Good, just go forward from that. She rinsed the plates and forks and stuck them in the dishwasher. After pouring herself another cup of coffee, she grabbed her laptop and headed for the big, cushy chair this time. She propped her feet up on the ottoman and turned on her computer.
“Back to work mode?” Travis asked as he stretched out on the couch facing her.
“Just checking email.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she realized that hiding behind her computer was the chicken route. Not to mention rude. So she closed the screen and set the computer aside. “Sorry. I just tend to slip into my routine.”
“And I knocked you off your routine tonight.”
“It’s okay. I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad. You seemed stressed.”
She fidgeted with a seam on the chair’s arm. “Yeah. Always lots of work to do.”
“I don’t think it was work that had you so on edge.”
“It’s enough, but add on beginning this search for my mom and keeping it secret and it’s stressful.”
“You haven’t talked to your sisters or Jet about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She hadn’t prepared for that question, so she stumbled. “Because...I don’t want to disappoint them if I find nothing.”
Travis shook his head where it lay against one of her quilted pillows. “That’s not it.”
“You’re calling me a liar?”
Travis lifted to his elbow. “Lie is too harsh a word. Fib, maybe.”
She shifted her gaze to the TV screen where the weather guy was now talking about another area of concern farther west.
“Savannah, you can trust me. It won’t leave this room.”
In that moment, the weight of her secret and the worry she’d been carrying around like a gigantic knot in her stomach were too much to handle alone. The need to talk to someone overrode her determination to keep everything to herself. And her secret thoughts about Travis’s scrumptiousness aside, she realized he was offering to be the kind of friend she needed right now.
She exhaled a shuddery breath. “Everything I told you was true, but I don’t know if I would have ever taken the first step toward looking for my mom if I hadn’t fallen the other night.”
Travis’s forehead creased. “I don’t see the connection.”
“After you brought me back to Abby’s trailer, I got in the shower. While examining the damage, I...I found a lump in my breast. When I had it checked Monday, the doctor asked if I had any family history of breast cancer and I realized I had no idea.”
Travis sat up slowly. “But you’re okay, right?” The tense concern in his voice touched her deeper than it should have.
She blinked against tears that felt sudden but which had been building since her fingers had accidentally found a little lump that had the potential to change her life. Maybe even end it.
No, she couldn’t think that way.
She held the tears at bay as she met his eyes. “I have no idea.”
And that was the scariest thing of all.
Chapter Seven
Travis prided himself on being intuitive. It’s what made him good at his job. But despite the fact that he’d pressed Savannah to tell him the real reason behind the search for her mother, he hadn’t predicted what her answer might be. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have come up with what she’d just said.
He fought the urge to retreat, to run through the rain and sleep in his truck. Since losing Corinne, he’d steered wide around anything that hinted at death. He was only able to perform investigations involving someone’s passing because he didn’t know the person.
But he knew Savannah, liked her and hated the idea of her facing a grim diagnosis. “Most times it’s nothing, right?” He desperately needed it to be nothing, mostly for her sake but, selfish as it might be, also for his. If he was going to be working with her, he didn’t want to think about the possibility of her having cancer every time he looked at her.
“Sometimes.”
She sounded so very alone. “Why tell me instead of one of your sisters?”
“I don’t want to worry anyone without cause, especially Lizzie in her condition. And like you said, it could be nothing.”
“Does the doctor have to know if cancer is in your family history?”
“No, but it made me realize that I have no idea what other things might be lurking there. And not just that. I barely know anything about that branch of my family. And...let’s just say I have a lot of unanswered quest
ions.”
He wanted to promise her that he would find her mother, but he couldn’t know that. What he could promise was that he’d try his best. If he focused on the search, maybe he could avoid thinking about her health. “I’ll turn over every stone I can find.”
A wan smile tugged at her mouth. “Thank you. Did you have a chance to look through everything I gave you?”
“Most of it, but I’ll go through everything more carefully when I get to the office tomorrow and devise a plan of attack.”
“I’d like to be kept up-to-date with each step.”
He nodded. Normally, he would give reports every week or so, but Savannah wasn’t just a normal client. He’d like to be able to say that his willingness to talk to her more frequently had nothing to do with the first stirrings of attraction he’d felt since Corinne, but he couldn’t. There was something about Savannah’s combination of strength and vulnerability, her dedicated work ethic that managed not to sacrifice her ability to have fun that drew him.
She was so different than Corinne and yet she was the first woman who’d held his interest since the loss of his wife. Part of him felt a twinge of guilt, but then Rita’s words rang in his head. Corinne wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone, even though it felt wrong to be thinking about moving on.
Why did he have to be attracted to someone who could possibly be facing a fight for her life? He sighed. He might not be able to help the attraction, but he didn’t have to act on it.
Savannah shifted her attention to the TV, but her expression told him that her thoughts were elsewhere.
“You look tired. Go get some rest.” He motioned toward the angry radar image on the TV. “I’ll be up for a while, so I’ll keep an eye on things.”
“I am beat, but I don’t want to be rude.”
“You’re not. It’s not as if you were expecting company.”
Even after she acknowledged that she needed to go to bed, she didn’t move. He knew that feeling, as if she was contemplating just curling up in the chair to sleep so she didn’t have to expend the energy to walk into her bedroom.
He stood and crossed to the chair, then extended his hand to her. “Come on, up you go.”
After a moment, she lifted her hand and placed it in his. When he wrapped her hand in his, he liked the feel of it. Though smaller, it wasn’t dainty. And she had the calluses that came from working on a ranch, from handling saddles and ropes. Even so, her touch was unmistakably feminine. Despite her fatigue, there was strength there, too.
Travis tugged her to her feet, resisting the sudden urge to pull her all the way into his arms. But then he remembered what she’d said about that lump, and he released her instead. It had absolutely nothing to do with her breast and everything to do with how he ached at the idea of losing anyone else he cared about. Even though it was unreasonable to think he’d be able to live the rest of his life without losing anyone, he didn’t have to invite it.
“There’s a quilt on the back of the couch, fresh towels in the cabinet in the bathroom. If you get hungry or thirsty, just help yourself to whatever you can find. Need anything else, let me know.”
“I’ll be fine. But do you mind if I use your computer?”
She nodded toward the laptop. “Go ahead.”
He didn’t reach for the computer until Savannah closed her bedroom door. Even then, he stood listening to her move around, wondering if she was changing into pajamas. Or did she wear a nightgown? Old T-shirt? Nothing?
At that thought, even the borrowed sweatpants grew a little uncomfortable. With a growl of frustration, he snatched up the computer and sank back down onto the couch. He might be stuck here for the night, but he could make good use of the time and start his search for Delia Baron. First things first: find out if she was even using the same name anymore, and if she was still alive. He hoped she was because the last thing Savannah needed right now was the news that her mother was dead.
After a couple of hours, not even the last of the coffee and walking around her apartment was able to keep his eyes from drooping. But when he pulled off the too-tight T-shirt, turned off the TV and lamp and stretched out on the couch, his thoughts drifted toward the woman in the other room.
Was she asleep? Or was the fact that he was in her space preventing her from getting the rest she needed? As if her bruised ribs weren’t enough, now she had to concern herself with that lump. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just take it from her, but in that area he was powerless. He could, however, help her get something else she needed—answers and maybe even some closure. What she didn’t need right now was a guy panting after her. And he didn’t need to be the one doing the panting.
* * *
SAVANNAH HAD NO idea what time she finally fell asleep, but she’d still been awake when the light in the living room went out. She’d had to fight the urge to walk out there and ask if he’d been working on her case, if he’d found anything. She’d had to tell herself morning was soon enough to get the answer to that question. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to go out and track down her mother in the middle of the night in a barrage of storms.
So she forced herself to close her eyes and listen to the rain on the roof, which had lessened in intensity. At some point she’d drifted off and awakened a few minutes before five. Her body was just used to waking at that time. She was as quiet as she could be as she showered and dressed for the day. By the time she exited her bedroom, gray dawn light was filtering in through the windows.
Only a couple of steps into the living room, Savannah caught sight of Travis on the couch and froze. He was sprawled as if he didn’t have a care in the world, his bare chest on full display. Damn if her mouth didn’t water, and it wasn’t because she was hungry for breakfast. Her fingers itched to run across that smooth flesh, up from his taut stomach over the nicely defined pectoral muscles. She knew she should stop staring, but she couldn’t. She’d never get this chance again.
When Travis grunted and shifted, she jumped and nearly yelped in surprise. Before she allowed herself to get caught ogling, she headed downstairs to start the morning’s baking. Maybe if she buried herself in work, she’d forget the half-naked guy upstairs.
Ha. No amount of baked goods would be able to push the image of Travis Shepard’s bare chest out of her thoughts.
As she pulled out pans and the ingredients for peach muffins, she glanced at the clock. She told herself to chill when she thought about someone getting wind that he’d spent the night. After all, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. And if her father or even Lizzie made the connection between the fact he was a P.I. and Savannah asking questions about her mother? She’d just say it was a coincidence. Those happened all the time, right?
She was putting the first batch of muffins in the oven ten minutes later when she heard footsteps upstairs. Immediately, she wondered if he was walking around shirtless. The image was so burned into her brain that when he descended the stairs, she was almost afraid to turn around. Calling herself an idiot for thinking Travis would stroll into her store with his chest on full display, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Good morning.”
He mumbled something that might have been a reciprocal “good morning” but could have been a hundred other responses, as well.
Savannah chuckled. “Not a fan of early mornings, I take it.”
“This is prime sleeping time,” he said as he made a beeline for the fresh pot of coffee on the counter beside her.
He filled the largest takeout cup she had, then appeared to down half of it in one gulp. As he stood there with his eyes closed, it seemed as if he were waiting for the caffeine to perform its magic.
Savannah thought about her question from the night before, if he’d found out anything about her mom, but refrained from asking him in the interest of him vacating the premises.
Travis took another drink of his coffee. Then, as if he sensed her anxiety building, he said, “Well, I better tackle that tire.”
All she could manage was a nod.
“I’ll call you with a report later today.”
“Sounds good.”
She glanced at him as he turned and headed toward the front door. Once again unable to pull her gaze away, she watched him, appreciating the way he moved.
Wait, he was wearing his clothes from the night before. She’d been so tired and out of sorts when she’d gone to bed that she’d forgotten to toss the laundry in the dryer, so he must have. The idea of him seeing her bra and panties made her blush like a silly teenage girl.
She was still appreciating his backside when he opened the door to reveal Carly. Savannah stared as her sister’s mouth curved into a wide grin full of mischief. Just great.
“Well, hello there,” Carly said. “We meet again.”
“Morning, Carly.”
Her sister looked beyond Travis, straight at Savannah. “You start opening for business earlier, sis?”
Savannah’s mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. Her brain screamed at her to say something, anything, like the truth, but instead she probably looked like a fish lying on the shore gasping.
“I had to bum your sister’s couch last night. I ran over something in the storm and had a flat.” Travis pointed toward his vehicle, but Carly kept her eyes on the two of them.
“I hope she was a good host.”
Savannah was so going to kill Carly.
“She was. Now to tackle this tire and get to work.” Travis glanced back at Savannah and lifted his cup. “Thanks for the coffee.” And then he winked.
An unexpected thrill went through her at that most likely innocent gesture. She’d bet he was just trying to say, “Your secret is safe with me,” or “I did the best I could steering your sister clear of her obvious assumption.” Still, she had to fight a giddy smile because that was the last thing she needed to show Carly right now. Or Travis.