“Borrowed them from my brother. He’s into it,” Travis replied.
“You’re a turkey.” She couldn’t resist touching him again and poked him in the ribs.
Travis jumped away. “Hey, no tickling!”
“Wait … what? Mister Big Tough Cowboy is ticklish?” She poked at him again, but he dodged.
“Easy now,” Travis warned.
Misty wasn’t Ty’s little sister for nothing. She’d endured enough abuse over the years to learn a few things about persistence and strategy. She unleashed a flurry of tickling, her fingers darting over Travis’s ribs as he howled and squirmed, trying to get away. In the baby carrier, Wyatt giggled.
“Okay, that’s it!” Travis finally insisted. In one quick move, he captured Misty’s hands, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and bringing them up between them. “Now what are you going to do, tough guy?” he demanded, his eyes twinkling.
A breeze ruffled his hair, and the sun glinted along the blond stubble on his cheeks. Misty’s breathing grew shallow. Her fingers itched to touch him, differently this time—run her fingers through his hair, scrape her fingernails along the scratchy jawline. His lips were the perfect fullness, not too thick, not too thin, and his breath on her face was tinged slightly with peppermint.
In the baby carrier on Travis’s back, Wyatt let out a howl, and the moment was broken. “I guess he thinks we’re taking too long,” Misty murmured, her eyes never leaving Travis’s.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, and as he let go of her wrists, she saw her own disappointment mirrored in his eyes. Then he shook his head. “Man, you’re a fighter.”
She cocked one hip. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Are you ready for me to beat you shamelessly at Frisbee golf?”
He gave her an easy grin. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 6
It was harder than it looked. Travis had thrown Frisbees before, but never with such precision, and never with a baby strapped to his back … though he didn’t mind that part. The course was laid out like a golf course, only with a basket at the end instead of a hole. In theory, it should have been easy. It wasn’t.
He squinted down the length of the grass to where the basket, topped with a yellow flag, glinted between two pines. A successful throw would require a slight curve to the left, or he’d be in the rough.
He lined up, drew his arm back, and sent the disc sailing with a flick of his wrist. For half a second he had hope his strategy would work, but then, instead of making the turn, the white disc continued straight, hit a juniper tree, and dropped into the clump of sagebrush at the tree’s base.
Travis groaned. “So much for my attempts to impress you with my mad Frisbee skills.”
Misty giggled. “I’m not doing much better, you know.”
They’d spent more time chasing after Frisbees than actually scoring points, but that was part of the fun, and Wyatt seemed to be enjoying himself, babbling and giggling as they moved around the course. Misty stopped often to point out animals—mostly ducks and geese, but they saw a few squirrels and chipmunks darting among the rocks and the trees.
“Look, Wyatt, there’s a goose.” Misty pointed to a pair of cackling geese who were loitering in the water hazard at the twelfth hole. Her Frisbee had landed near their small pond.
“Gyoos,” Wyatt said.
“Careful,” Travis said as Misty started toward her Frisbee. “Those things are mean.”
Misty stopped. “They are?”
“Yup. Very aggressive and territorial. And they have teeth on their tongues, did you know that?”
Misty eyed the geese warily. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“No. Trust me, you don’t want to mess with a goose,” Travis said fervently.
“Uh-oh, sounds like there’s a story to go with the warning.” She grinned. “Did you have a run-in with an angry goose?”
The geese drifted closer. “Let’s move along,” Travis advised.
“But we haven’t finished this hole yet,” Misty protested.
The geese seemed to have made a decision. Almost in perfect synchronization, they squawked and started climbing out of the water, their heads extended, beaks open.
“Oookay, you’re right, this one’s a loss.” Misty darted forward to scoop up her pink Frisbee, and they took off, speed walking away as fast as they could.
“So, hole twelve is a draw,” Travis said once they were out of range of the geese.
“Goes to the geese,” Misty agreed.
“So I’ll draw a big old zero on this scorecard,” Travis said, pulling the piece of paper from his pocket and waving it at her.
She nudged him with her hip. “Yup, a big old goose egg.”
Travis broke out laughing. Had he ever felt this at ease with Ashlyn? He couldn’t remember, but it certainly wasn’t by the time they’d reached a second date. As much as he’d thought he loved her, there had always been a slight unease, a feeling of being measured and maybe found wanting. And his worst fears had been proven right when she’d run off with Dillon.
It had been more than the money problem. He hadn’t seen it then, but now he could look back and realize Ashlyn was always evaluating … seeking the advantage. Trying to one-up him in everything from GPA to a golf score. She would never have been content to let the geese drive them away from the hole, because that would mean the score wouldn’t be accurate.
Misty didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, the score seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind, and as they walked along the course, Travis stuffed the score sheet back in his pocket and knew he wouldn’t need to worry about it again.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Today she had her hair pulled through the back of a blue baseball cap. The color matched her eyes and brought out the freckles in her pale cheeks.
He reached out and took her hand, marveling at how neatly her palm fit against his, how their fingers laced together perfectly. Misty gave him a small smile and tightened her grip, swinging their hands between them as they walked. It all felt so easy and natural.
“What happened to Wyatt’s father?” he asked.
A shadow passed over her face. “He’s a loser,” she said grimly.
Travis’s mind immediately pulled up all the things the guy could have done to qualify as a “loser” in Misty’s mind, and a spark of rage began to burn in his stomach. “Did he … he wasn’t abusive?” he asked tightly.
She stopped walking and faced him. “No, not like you’re thinking. He wasn’t a nice person. But it’s over now.”
The spark festered, in danger of igniting. Travis flexed the hand not entwined with Misty’s. From somewhere amid the roaring that suddenly filled his ears, he heard her voice.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. He can’t hurt us, ever.”
“Not if I can help it.” The words were out in a low growl before he could think. Misty was feisty and independent, and it wouldn’t have surprised him in the slightest to learn she had a gun hidden somewhere on her person today. But that didn’t stop the thrumming in his chest, the fierce need to protect her if he could.
“Not that you need protecting,” he said quickly. “I just—” His words were cut off as she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
* * *
Misty could tell by the way he stiffened slightly that Travis was surprised by the kiss.
Well, that made two of them.
She hadn’t meant to kiss him, at least not so suddenly. She’d hoped there would be kissing before their date was over, and all signs were pointing in the right direction. In her head, he’d be the one to make the first move, but he’d been irresistible with the wind ruffling his hair and the scowl of protectiveness on his face.
His lips were hard at first, surprised, but instantly softened under hers. He ran his hands gently from her wrists to her shoulders, and her eyes drifted closed as he took control of the kiss.
Travis’s fingers gently cupped her jaw as his lips played along hers, mo
ving slowly. Misty sighed, savoring every second as he learned the shape and feel of her mouth. The roughness of his jaw scraped softly along her skin, bringing with it the scents she had started associating with him—aftershave, sage, hay. Goose bumps shivered over her skin and she was lost, drifting in a dream where they were the only two people in the world, and all that mattered was the heat racing through her body.
Her palms were on his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Memories of kissing Chet washed over her—it had been nothing like this. There was no sweetness to Chet’s kisses, only urgency and hormones. When Chet kissed her, Misty always felt like her brain had shut down, leaving only a dim splinter of guilt that something wasn’t quite right.
But this was totally different.
Instead of shutting down, she felt fully awake, maybe more awake than she’d ever been. Every one of her senses kicked into high gear—the feel of Travis’s lips on hers, the hard muscles under his shirt, the minty, fresh smell of him. Even her sense of sight seemed to be working overtime. Though her eyes were closed, she could see him, imagine the two of them intertwined, see the way his body curved over hers.
“Mama!” Wyatt’s tiny voice pulled her back from the moment.
Travis’s lips tightened over hers as he grinned and they broke apart. “Sorry, babe,” Misty told Wyatt. “Mama was busy for a minute.” Her head spun and her knees were shaking. She clung to Travis, not trusting her own equilibrium.
“I think I’ve had enough disc golf for today,” Travis growled in her ear. “What about you?”
They were on the twelfth hole, which meant six more to go. If they left now, that would mean more time for kissing. Maybe? Probably? Misty couldn’t help smiling. “Sounds good to me,” she said.
They held hands as they walked back to the truck, though Misty wasn’t sure she was actually walking. Floating was more like it. As cheesy as it sounded, she felt like the world had shrunk until it was just the three of them and nothing else mattered.
The giddy haze stayed with her as she followed his truck all the way back into town and to the restaurant, where Travis got Wyatt out of his car seat and into a highchair without even asking her. It was weird to have another adult sharing this responsibility as wholly as she did.
“How are you so good with kids?” she asked as she slid into the booth across from him.
“Big family.” He shrugged. “I’m the oldest of seven, so I learned early how to help out.”
“Seven? Wow.” Misty raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah.” He gave her a wry grin. “The best word to describe my house growing up was loud. That’s how it is now, too, come to think of it. Three of my siblings are still living at home.”
“I think it’s great,” Misty said. “Most men don’t know what to do with babies.”
“Most men?” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of jealousy in his eyes. “Does that mean you date a lot?”
She unwrapped the top of her straw and blew into it, shooting the rest of the wrapper at him. “No, weirdo. It’s just a general observation.”
He smiled and plucked the straw wrapper from the front of his shirt. “Oh, well, I don’t mean to brag … okay, maybe I mean to brag a little bit. But I know a lot about babies. Ask me anything.”
Her mind went blank, and everything she’d learned about babies in the past year disappeared from her brain. “Um …”
“Really?” Travis shook his head. “Pathetic.”
She rallied. “Okay, smart guy. What age can you start solid foods?”
“Around four months, but it varies.”
“What sizes do kids’ clothes come in?”
“Hand-me-down.”
She rolled her eyes at his self-satisfied grin. “That’s a technicality, but I’ll allow it. What do you do for colic?”
“Could be a gas bubble, so try burping first. If that doesn’t work, change the environment. If you’re inside, go out, and vice versa.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Told ya,” Travis said, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Oh, what a cute little guy!” The waitress appeared at their table, and it took Misty a moment to realize she was talking about Wyatt, not Travis. “Are you ready to order?”
They ordered burgers, and Misty dug in her diaper bag for Cheerios to tide Wyatt over until the food arrived.
She and Travis were sitting across from each other, but she wished they could be side by side, his arm brushing against hers, hips pressing together. Her heart skipped at the thought of their kiss and his hands on her back, pulling her closer.
“I’m driving the team for a party at Mayor Bixby’s house next weekend,” Travis said. “I guess he really enjoyed the hayride at the Millburns’ party. Any chance he hired the same caterer and I’ll see you there?”
Her throat tightened. She’d almost forgotten her little lie, misleading him into thinking she was a waitress instead of a party guest. She needed to tell him the truth.
But it wasn’t so bad, right? After all, it was only their second date, and even though she felt like she’d known him forever, there were still in the get-to-know-you phase of this thing.
“Um, about that … I—”
She broke off at a sudden commotion across the room as a group of people broke out in applause and cheers. They looked over to see their waitress holding both her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. A handsome young man in a yellow button-down shirt stood up and wrapped his arms around her. Phone cameras flashed as they posed for several pictures.
“Wonder what’s going on?” Travis said when the noise had died down.
“I don’t know. Engaged, maybe?” Misty guessed. Except the couple didn’t act like they were in love. They stood arm in arm, and while they were both beaming, it was mostly for the cameras, not for each other. In fact, they barely even looked at each other.
But then, what did she know? She’d thought Chet Coleman was the love of her life, and look how that had turned out.
Wyatt swiped his fist across the tray of the high chair, sending Cheerios flying. Misty and Travis both dove for them and spent a few minutes picking cereal out of the carpet, then refilling Wyatt’s tray with a fresh handful.
“What were you saying earlier?” Travis asked after they were both seated again.
“Sorry about the wait, guys.” The waitress suddenly materialized at their table with their drinks. “I’ll go see if your food’s ready.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her face seemed stuck on perma-grin.
“It’s okay,” Misty said quickly. “Were you … did you just get engaged?”
“What?” The girl’s confusion was plain.
“To that guy over there?” Misty pointed, but the man in the yellow shirt was gone.
“Oh, no!” The girl beamed. “He just gave me an amazing tip. I’ve heard about that kind of thing happening, but I never thought it’d happen to me.” Her face took on an almost reverent look. “A hundred dollars,” she whispered. “Can you believe it? The bill was only twenty-eight and he left me a hundred extra.”
“Wow.” Misty grinned. “Congratulations. That’s amazing.”
The waitress nodded happily and hurried off. Misty turned to Travis. “Wow! So nice of that guy.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His words were short, his face impassive.
“What?”
“You saw the way he posed for photos with her. If he wanted to do a good thing, why not give her the tip and then leave without causing a scene? And I’m sorry, but a hundred dollars isn’t that big of a tip. That guy just wanted attention. Just like all rich people.”
Misty bit her lip, thinking of Ty. Her brother was the opposite of attention-seeking. When he’d won the lottery, he’d been embarrassed by all the attention. And aside from buying a pretty sweet car, he’d done almost nothing for himself with the money. He took care of his family, gave away a lot to various charities, and had started a foundati
on to address a problem he felt passionately about.
“What?” Travis asked, after she’d been silent too long. “You don’t agree with me?”
“I know some very nice rich people,” Misty finally said. What would Travis say if he knew the media had written stories about her brother, calling him Idaho’s Hottest Billionaire Bachelor?
Travis shook his head. “Well, I don’t. They’re all the same to me.” He scooted a few of the Cheerios closer to Wyatt’s grasping fingers. “Anyway, you said you had something to tell me?”
“Oh.” How was she supposed to tell him the truth now? Misty bit her lip and pretended to think. “I … wow, I guess I forgot.” She forced a laugh. “I’ll probably think of it at two o’clock in the morning.”
“When you do, you can text me,” Travis said with a wink. “I’d wake up at two a.m. for a text from you.”
Guilt squirmed in her stomach. She had to tell him, but not right now. They were still in the new bloom of a relationship; she couldn’t bear to introduce a conflict so soon. The potential problems could wait.
Chapter 7
Travis and Doug were unloading hay bales, throwing them from the back of the pickup to the stack by the side of the stable, when Duke came around the corner leading Jemima by a rope attached to her bridle. One look at his boss’s face, and Travis knew something was wrong.
“You okay?” he asked, heaving another bale, which landed with a dusty thud onto the others.
Duke wiped his forehead with his free hand. “I just got word the state has shut down the grazing pasture,” he said. Wrinkles of concern splayed from the corners of his eyes.
“What?” Doug said. “Why would they do that?”
“They say they have to do an environmental impact study before they can allow any animals back in there.”
Travis shucked off his leather gloves. “What the heck’s an environmental impact study?”
“I dunno for sure. They have to bring in a bunch of scientists and see if the horses are ruining the land or endangering the native species … something like that.”
Horses, Hayrides, And Husbands (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots) Page 5