“But not a big one.” Krystal frowned. “You’re still my sister first. And we’re still singing together and going on tour together and you better still come spend the night with me and Jace and we all better still come out here.” She stabbed her piece of pie, her breathing accelerating and her tone going higher and higher. “And all the holidays. All of them. They have to be here. All of us together.”
Travis wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. But since Emmy Lou started crying, he had to laugh.
“Come on, now.” He put an arm around them both and pulled them in for a big hug. “We like Brock. He’s been a part of this family for a long time. There’s no reason to get worked up over this. It’s not like she’s marrying an asshole, leaving the band, and us.”
“I sort of like Brock,” Krystal huffed against his chest.
“Well, I love him,” Emmy Lou sniffed.
“That doesn’t mean you have to marry him,” Krystal said, again. “I love Jace but you don’t see the two of us getting hitched, do you?”
Emmy Lou sighed. “I hope you do, someday.”
Krystal murmured something that sounded like, “Whatever,” then tightened her hold on them both.
They stayed that way for a while, until Emmy Lou stopped sniffing and Krystal didn’t sound like she was hyperventilating anymore.
“I love you both.” He pressed a kiss against each of their cheeks. “Now, we all good?” he asked, looking them over.
Krystal shrugged. “I’ll be better with pie.”
Emmy Lou gave them both a final hug and stepped back. “Me too.”
“Ice cream?” he asked, opening the freezer. “If there’s any left.”
The three of them settled around the kitchen table with their warm apple pie and melting vanilla ice cream, enjoying a companionable silence—save the scraping of spoons on the bottom of a bowl.
“It’s the first time we’ve been alone in a while,” Emmy Lou said, an odd look on her face.
“It’s the first time we’ve been alone since we learned about Ruby, is what you mean.” Krystal smiled.
“How did you get there?” Travis asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Twins,” they said in unison.
“Whatever.” He laughed. “Why are we worrying about this Ruby person?” His sisters exchanged another odd look—one that made him pause mid-bite to ask, “What now?”
“Not worrying.” Krystal shrugged. “Curious.”
“I can see that.” Travis shook his head. “A little too curious, if you ask me.”
“I’m not asking.” Krystal smiled sweetly.
Travis chuckled.
“What’s wrong with wanting to know more about Ruby?” Krystal asked. “I got the feeling things were left…unfinished.”
“Didn’t you see Daddy’s face?” Emmy Lou asked, scooping some ice cream up with her spoon. “It was some look.”
He’d seen it—mostly. Granted, he’d been distracted by Loretta but, unless something more than a look had transpired, he didn’t get why they were hung up on this. “A look? You mean nostalgia?” Travis asked. “He was a guy long before he was our father. Let him have his memories without you two poking around in his past. He’s an adult and, contrary to what you both seem to think, he can take care of himself. Why does this have to be a big deal?” He watched them, both of them. “I know that look.” It wasn’t a good look. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this?”
The fact that they were both struggling to come up with an answer didn’t help ease his sudden twinge of anxiety. He thought they’d stopped keeping secrets from each other, but now he wasn’t so sure.
The kitchen door opened, breaking the loaded silence. Travis glanced at the door, irritated. He wanted to get to the bottom of this and, unless it was Loretta, he’d rather not be interrupted. But it was Sawyer. Since Sawyer already knew everything, there wasn’t any point in keeping things from him.
But Sawyer seemed more interested in the pie and ice cream than the awkward silence.
“There’s none left,” Travis said.
“Ignore him.” Emmy Lou smiled. “Come in. Have some pie.” She was up, playing hostess.
“There’s another one in the oven,” Krystal said, pointing at the oven with her spoon. “I hid it from Travis.”
Travis chuckled. It made sense that his sisters had a soft spot for Sawyer—he’d proven himself to them time and time again.
“Since you’re here, help me set these two straight.” Travis sat back in his chair, holding his bowl close.
“With?” Sawyer asked, smiling his thanks at Emmy Lou for the bowl of ice cream and pie, and taking a seat at the table.
“Travis,” Krystal cut in. “Forget it.” She waved her hand. “It’s nothing.”
“How’s the pie?” Emmy Lou asked, all smiles.
What the hell? One minute, they were going full Nancy Drew and now they didn’t want to talk about it. If they were serious about learning more about Ruby, Sawyer was their best chance. Whatever. If they were going to drop it, he wasn’t going to bring it up. As far as he was concerned, their father had the right to some privacy.
“Good. As always.” Sawyer nodded. “You make it, Krystal?”
“I did, thank you very much.” Krystal nodded. “I’ve never asked what your favorite kind of pie is, Sawyer?”
Travis glanced at his sister. Krystal had a thing about making pies for people—she loved to bake. If she wanted to know what kind of pie Sawyer liked, he’d officially been accepted into the family.
“I’m not picky,” Sawyer answered, taking a huge bite.
“You don’t have a favorite?” Emmy Lou asked Sawyer. “Or some family recipe or dessert that makes you happy?”
“Not really.” Sawyer set his bowl on the table, his expression shuttered. “We never congregated in the kitchen the way you all do.”
“I guess we do spend a lot of time in here.” Emmy Lou looked around the room, as if seeing it with new eyes.
“Do you have siblings?” Travis asked, alarmed when they all stared at him. “What? She can ask a question but I can’t?”
“A brother,” Sawyer said. “Younger than me. Ames.”
Travis could see that. Sawyer was big brother material—all the way. He had that overprotective vibe thing down, which was one of the reasons he was so good at his job.
“Ames.” Emmy Lou smiled. “What’s he like?”
“Good kid, mostly.” Sawyer shrugged, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Cherry. Cherry pie is my favorite.”
“I’ll make one next week.” Krystal nodded.
“Next week, I’ll be a married woman.” Emmy Lou shook her head.
“Um, tomorrow night you’ll be a married woman.” Krystal sighed, irritated. “Unless you change your mind and live in sin like Jace and I.”
Emmy Lou laughed. “I know there are hordes of people coming tomorrow, and my dress is big and over-the-top, so are the food and the flowers and the place—and the Home & Style deal…but that’s not what this is about. Not for me.” She took Krystal’s hand. “This is about the vow I want to give Brock and the vow he wants to give me—in front of the hordes of people there to witness it.”
Krystal sighed.
“Why not make it a double wedding and get it over with?” Travis asked, ducking when Krystal flicked some ice cream at him. “Hey, hey, I’m not cleaning that up.”
“Where’s Clementine?” Krystal turned. “She’ll take care of it.”
“Last I saw of her, she was curled up in Loretta’s lap, sound asleep.” Emmy Lou shook her head. “She’s smitten; Loretta I mean. I can’t believe she never had a pet growing up.”
Travis perked up at the mention of her name.
“I get the feeling she had a difficult childhood,” Emmy Lou added.
<
br /> “Considering what happened to Johnny, I’m not so sure her adulthood is all that rocking, either.” Krystal glanced at him then. “So, big brother, what’s the deal?”
Travis played dumb. “You know what it is. You saw the Wheelhouse packet, same as I did.” They were fishing for info. They didn’t know he and Loretta had spent the night together. And he wasn’t about to admit he’d sent a chicken shit string of texts hoping to renegotiate their original one-night arrangement. What the hell had he been thinking? Texting something like that?
“Yeah, no. That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” Krystal’s sigh was all impatience. “The you-want-to-jump-her and she-wants-to-jump-you thing.”
“Jump?” Travis asked. “What are you, fifteen?” Not that she was wrong. He distinctly remembered Loretta jumping into his arms when they were in the shower…right before he’d pressed her against the glass wall… He shook his head. He didn’t have the whole poker face thing mastered the way Sawyer did so he needed to change the topic—and soon.
“I think it’s more than that.” Emmy Lou put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, watching him. “I think you might be sweet on Loretta Gram.”
Travis shoveled a massive bite into his mouth. Sweet on her? No comment.
“This reminds me… It wasn’t all that long ago we were having a similar conversation about you and Jace.” Emmy Lou laughed. “I think there was pie involved then too.”
Krystal nodded. “And if I’d listened to you instead of acting like you were wrong, think about all the time and energy I’d have saved everyone.”
Travis almost choked on his pie. When Krystal dug in her heels, there was no changing her mind. The more you tried to push her, the harder she pushed back. And everyone sitting around the table had firsthand experience with her stubborn streak.
Her green eyes swiveled his way, narrowing in irritation. “From the look on your face, I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.” One brow rose. “But if you want to be a stubborn ass and repeat the pile of poo you served up last time, fine. Ignore your sisters and how all they want is for you to be happy.”
“Will do.” Travis nodded.
His sisters’ disappointed sighs were in unison, so were the little frowns and the slight pucker between their brows. Even Sawyer laughed then—for a whole five seconds.
Conversation drifted from tomorrow’s long agenda to the upcoming tour schedule and then from Emmy Lou’s assurances that Momma was not bringing a date to her concerns over tension between their parents to her repeated nightmare that one of her guests was allergic to shellfish, sat too close to someone eating the lobster, and dropped dead before the cake cutting.
“That’s a very specific allergy-related death dream.” Travis gave up the fight and started laughing.
It was almost two when they cleaned up the kitchen and went their separate ways.
He’d never say so out loud, but he liked having his sisters home. He’d missed their kitchen counseling sessions. That’s what Gramma had called it. Working through the world’s problems while cooking dinner—or eating it? Probably why we spend so much time in the kitchen. Their family was never short on problems.
He was headed to his room when the jingle of Clementine’s collar stopped him. The light from the hall dimly illuminated the interior of the music room—enough that he spied Loretta curled up on the couch with Clem sprawled across her. But once Clementine saw him, she hopped off the couch, ran around him in a circle, and trotted down the hall toward the doggy door in the kitchen.
Loretta jerked awake. “Travis?” Her voice was thick with sleep and sexy as hell.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” If he were smart, he’d say goodnight and head to his room. He didn’t. Dumbass.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She yawned, pushing herself off the couch and crossing the room to where he stood. “What time is it?”
“Late.” His voice was more gravelly than normal. He swallowed. “Too late to be up and about.”
She stared up at him, looking more and more awake with each passing second.
“Pie,” he said, doing his damndest not to stare at her mouth or reach up to smooth her hair. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to tease through text.”
Her eyes widened. “You were teasing?”
Yes. No. He sighed. He’d told her he’d never lie. Sure, lying would save face and be an easy out but…it was still a lie. “No.”
She frowned.
“You want me to lie?” He shook his head. “It’d be a hell of a lot less humiliating to say I was teasing.”
“Why are you humiliated?” Her frown grew.
“Rejection’s never fun, Loretta.” He held his hands up. “But I—”
“We agreed one night.” Her voice wavered. “Any more is like…like playing with fire. Fire’s not something you can control, Travis.”
He swallowed, instantly understanding. She was scared to give in to this. Scared that what was between them would be out of control.
“I need control.” She shook her head. “I’m not a risk-taker.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“No.” She stepped forward, running her hands up his chest. “It’s not okay. This time is it.” Her breathing changed, going husky. “We have to agree. Just this. One more night.”
He’d take what he could get. He pulled her close, the feeling of her pressed tight against him tearing a groan from his throat and sending a shock wave down his spine. “Whatever you want,” he murmured against her mouth. She might have jumped, he might have lifted her—the end result was the same. He carried her, his lips clinging to hers, to his room and kicked the door closed behind him.
Chapter 11
Loretta woke to the stroke of Travis’s hands on her body. She’d never been this tired in her entire life. Then again, she’d never been this satisfied, either. He was relentless. Almost like he was racing against the clock. Like he knew their time was ticking away and every second had to count.
At the moment, his fingers were doing deliciously wicked things between her legs. And, sore or not, she arched into his touch.
His mouth latched onto her neck. “Good morning.”
Already? “Is it?” She gasped—his fingers continuing to move. “Travis…”
“I’ve got you.” His lips were featherlight against her jaw and chin but once his lips met hers, he was anything but light. Hot and deep and hungry. His lips took while his fingers gave, and Loretta let go and enjoyed it. It didn’t take long for her to tip over the edge. Free falling toward bliss, she cried out—broken and raw—against his shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. She was probably all swollen eyelids and blotchy skin, with rats-nest hair. He was all golden and triumphant and gorgeous.
He smoothed her hair from her face. “What’s not fair?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “What time is it?”
“Five.” He kissed her forehead. “Time enough for one more go around.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Or two.”
She laughed. “There is no way twice is physically possible.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” He pulled her under him.
“No.” She pressed her hands against his chest. “It’s not. I promise.” She loved the feeling of him. His strength. How incredibly powerful his body was. In his arms, she felt safe—protected. Almost cherished. That’s the sort of thinking that will bring you nothing but trouble. She didn’t need to be cherished. Or protected.
Travis flopped onto the bed at her side, resting his head on the pillow. “But, you’re right. I might need a quick nap to reenergize myself.” His eyes closed.
“Or ten to twelve hours.” She shook her head, watching as his breathing grew deep and
steady.
What did I do? She stared up at the ceiling. It’s not fair. There was something about him that rendered her incapable of coherent decision-making. Her pathetic add-on condition that this be the last time was just that—a way to justify doing something she knew was wrong.
Travis was, what, a year sober? It had been a long time since she’d gone to an alcoholic’s family and friends support group, but she remembered how important that first year was. Avoiding romantic relationships was advised. While she could argue that this was sex and not a relationship, it wasn’t that simple. She lived with him. She was singing with him. She was connecting with his family. Soon, they’d be on the road together. Whatever happened in the bedroom, those commitments wouldn’t change. They were tangled up in each other for the foreseeable future.
And now that she’d had time to overanalyze every second they’d spent together, and she’d overheard CiCi’s phone conversation, she’d begun to question everything. Travis knew her story. He knew Johnny. He knew her career had been on the line. Was that what had prompted all of this?
She pressed her hands to her face. And this was exactly why all of this was a bad idea. The sex, the singing, the talking, the spending time, the smiling and laughing. Neither of them needed this sort of complication.
His hand encircled her wrist and pulled her hand away. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice said otherwise.
“Loretta.” He turned her head. “Talk.” He’d been honest with her; he expected her to be honest with him.
She wasn’t sure where to start or what, exactly, to say but the first words that came out of her mouth were, “This is just sex.”
Travis blue-green gaze held hers.
“That’s all.” It had to be. “I don’t want anything to complicate…anything. We both have jobs to do and people that rely on us.” He had people—she had Margot. And Margot’s cancer treatment… Too much on the line for there to be any confusion. “This is all I have to give.”
He propped himself up on his elbow. “Where’s this coming from?”
“I want things clear between us.” She should stop there. That was all he needed to know. But the words kept coming. “I’m not reliant on you. I don’t need you to fix my career or take me in or sleep with me because you think I’m lonely—”
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