Consumed By You Page 10

  Keeping one hand on the wheel, he stole a glance, then brushed a strand of her hair off her shoulders. “That’s what you deserve,” he said softly. The jealousy had vacated, but there was a wistfulness in his tone now, and that new sound possessed a faint echo of disappointment.

  She wasn’t so sure she wanted to linger in this strange zone of what they were and what they would never be. She changed gears, as if she were taking a sharp right to a new route. “What about you?”

  He furrowed his brow, shooting her a quizzical look. “Do I have a checklist?”

  She laughed lightly. “No. I meant—did you miss Hidden Oaks when you were gone? For college,” she said, prompting him. “That was the only time you were away from here, right?”

  After their brief summer romance, he’d left for school in Southern California, while she’d gone to college locally.

  “I did miss it here. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed college immensely, and the chance to get away. But Megan had just started high school when I left, so I tried to come back as often as I could to check in on her,” he said, clicking on the turn signal as they neared the road with the shelter. He cast his gaze briefly to Cara, then back to the road. “And I missed you when I left.”

  She sat up higher and jerked her head to stare at him. That had been the last thing she’d expected him to say. They’d both tried so hard then to be cool about their inevitable end. They’d aimed to be smart and sophisticated and to go into their brief summer romance with eyes wide open, knowing it would end of its own accord. Neither had ever voiced the possibility of missing each other. They’d been so purposefully tough, even though they were only eighteen.

  “You did?” she asked cautiously, in a tentative breath.

  “Of course. I was crazy about you. You know that,” he said, speaking as if his feelings then were a matter of public record. Yes, he had said as much to her that summer, and those words—crazy for you—set off sparklers in her heart at the time. Now, more than a decade later, they were no less potent, and they sent a thrill through her bloodstream.

  Then, as quickly as the conversation had taken this unexpected turn, it swerved back. “So that answers your question if I missed Hidden Oaks. I guess you can’t keep me out of this town. I’m just a small town boy,” he said, singing the last few lines to the tune of the Journey song with similar opening lyrics—Just a small town girl.

  Cara rustled in her purse, and in seconds, she’d called up “Don’t Stop Believing” on her phone. She hit play. “Sing it with me.”

  “You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head as he laughed.

  “C’mon. You’re a good car singer. Do it.”

  “Nah. I can’t sing and drive.”

  She squeezed his thigh. “Yes. You can. C’mon, Travis. Sing,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his as the melody built.

  She didn’t know why it was so important that he did, but she didn’t plan to let up ’til he was singing his heart out with her.

  …

  He was only giving her a hard time for the sake of giving her a hard time. He didn’t mind singing along at all. It certainly wasn’t something he did with the guys, but Cara had her sexy, flirty, sweet way of bringing out these other sides of him. As she turned up the volume on her phone, blasting the song, he belted it out for the final few miles until they pulled into the lot at the shelter.

  When the song finished, she stabbed the end button on the playlist with a flourish. “There you go. We rocked it.”

  “We sure know how to have a good time.”

  She flashed him the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. “We do. We are making the most of our brief fling, aren’t we?”

  “We are,” he said as he opened the door. He wasn’t surprised he was having so much fun with her. The time he’d spent with her years ago contained some of his happiest memories, and their prior summer romance was the closest he’d ever come to truly falling for a woman.

  Good thing they’d had an end in sight then, and good thing they did now, too. Nobody got hurt that way.

  They both knew the score.

  They headed into the animal shelter to hand over the blankets and towels for the animals, and to give the manager the final paperwork for his dog.

  “I’m glad to hear everything is going great with Henry,” the shelter manager said, waving good-bye as they walked out.

  As Travis opened the door to his truck for her, Cara glanced at her watch, reminding him she had a class to teach.

  “What time is your agility session?” he asked.

  “I’ve got an hour. It should probably take about twenty minutes to get there though, so I have a little extra time.”

  An idea landed in his head as he walked around to his side and got in. “Remember yesterday when you mentioned our nearly disastrous bowling date? The alley is on the way back. We could stop in for a quick game.”

  She crinkled her nose. “I don’t know if there’s enough time for a game.”

  “Okay, so how about we play whoever gets the most points in thirty minutes? That should give you time to get to your class.”

  She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her blue eyes seemed to twinkle with mischief as he turned the key in the ignition. “What if I win? Are you going to wash my car like you did Smith’s?” she asked, and he laughed at the reminder.

  “You want me to? If that’s what you want I’ll gladly do it.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and pursed her lips, feigning intense concentration. “Let’s make the bet for something else. If I win the most points, you are going to bake some of your sister’s amazing chocolate chip cookies for me for tomorrow night.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “And if I win?”

  “Well, what do you want?” she asked, leaning in closer to him, invitingly.

  That was the easiest thing in the world to answer. He ran his hand along her thigh. “For you to not wear underwear when I show up at your door tomorrow night.”

  She held out a hand to shake. “It’s on.”

  He took her hand, tugged her in close, and dropped a kiss on her gorgeous mouth. He’d intended for it to be a quick kiss, so they could be on their way. But the taste of her lips was too delicious. He kissed her deeply, their mouths crashing together, their tongues tangling, the heat between them rising. He could have kissed her for so much longer, could have pulled into a parking spot around the back of the shelter and gone for more. But he wanted to have his way with her completely, no clock ticking, no deadlines, nothing but her.

  He especially wanted to win their bowling bet.

  Badly.

  But a half hour later, as he drove her to her agility class, she tap-danced her fingers across his jeans. “I cannot wait for those cookies.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Travis extended a hand to one of his longtime clients. The beak-nosed, beanpole venture capitalist clasped it and shook heartily.

  “You did well. You paced yourself,” Travis said, pleased that Hunter had started to rein in his overly aggressive style.

  “Wasn’t easy. I was dying to bet it all on that one hand,” Hunter said, shaking his head as if he were amazed he’d held back. The air-conditioning hummed softly in the background of the upscale private club in San Francisco, one of those members-only type of places.

  Hell, Travis was amazed at Hunter’s self-control when he’d had two jacks. Playing that hand wisely had helped him to win. “That’s what I’m talking about. More of that. Keep doing that. Got it?” he said, letting go of Hunter’s palm and heading to the door of the suite.

  “Got it, boss,” Hunter said with a salute. “I have a game in Napa in two weeks¸ but don’t worry. I know you’ve got your bachelor auction that weekend anyway. Maybe I’ll even bid on you and help you win for that charity of yours.”

  Travis laughed. “Please don’t bid on me.”

  “Just kidding. Anyway, I might not even need you to help me prep for the game.”

  Travis sm
iled. “Nothing could please me more. My goal is to make you so good that you don’t need me. If I do that, I’ve done my job.”

  “I love that your mission is obsolescence.”

  That hadn’t been easy with this man. Hunter loved to bet, loved to go all in—probably why he remained Travis’s top client. He needed Travis because risks were too alluring for him—hence Travis still being here, several years later, walking him through his games. Hunter ran a poker tournament once a month at this club, as well as regular weekly games with his wealthy Silicon Valley buddies.

  “I’m going to hit the road,” Travis said, and quickly covered the miles between the city and Hidden Oaks. He stopped at the grocery store, picked up some items for that night, and quickly set to work in the kitchen when he arrived home. Then he showered, and dressed for his dinner date.

  He buttoned up the final buttons on the crisp white shirt, combed his hair, and brushed his teeth. He flashed a quick smile in the mirror to inspect his teeth. Not that he’d have anything stuck between them—he hadn’t eaten since a lunch break at the game earlier that day.

  The game had been civilized and drew a clean-cut business crowd. Those were Hunter’s rules, and he’d set them up because he’d unknowingly dabbled in some rigged games a while ago. Hunter invited him to play occasionally, too, knowing it would up the game to play with someone like Travis—someone who had taught them when to hold, when to fold, and when to go all in. Travis wasn’t some poker god, with aspirations for the Texas Hold ’Em TV circuit, nor did he long to march through Vegas casinos, mopping up chips like a king. But he had the requisite pro cred, and he also had a knack for the game.

  He played like he fought fires. He knew how to read a fire, and he knew how to read the players in a game. He was calculating, he assessed the situation, and he’d learned to pick the best route through the tough spots, just like a fire. Detect the hot zones. Check the door temperature before opening it. Spray water on a surface to see if it sizzles. Didn’t always beat the fire, and didn’t always win a hand, but the strategy had proven successful over time in both fields. He’d honed his card skills thanks to his firehouse mentor—the guy who’d looked after Travis when his dad was gone, who’d taught him both the card game and how to battle a blaze.

  Today’s game had required steady focus and a cool hand, because the other venture capitalists Hunter brought in were used to taking big risks.

  That was where Travis was different. He’d spent his lifetime taking necessary precautions, practicing safety, determining how near or how far to push. The approach had served him well, and today he returned home with a few hundred extra bucks that went straight to the bank.

  Well, some of it went to the Families of Fallen Firefighters. The charity had sent out another email to its supporters that afternoon, asking for help, citing the downswing in giving in the last few years, which had hit it hard and led to cuts in support services. Travis had responded immediately, donating as much as he could part with from his winnings. But the email had made his shoulders tense as a kernel of anxiety sped through him. He had to win the auction. He desperately wanted to be one of the reasons the charity could keep doing its good work. Win the auction, snag the matching grant from the insurance broker, and help send the Families of Fallen Firefighters back on the upswing. That was the mission.

  And then, a bit of his earnings from today made their way to the grocery store, because he’d picked up butter, chocolate chips, brown sugar, and the other ingredients to bake the cookies for Cara. These chocolate chip cookies were pretty much the pinnacle of culinary delight, and it had made perfect sense that Cara wanted to win them.

  He snapped his fingers. Megan had something else he knew Cara would like.

  He rolled up the cuffs on his shirt, headed to the kitchen to grab the Tupperware container full of cookies, and tucked his phone to his ear as he dialed his sister and made his request.

  “Come on by,” she said. “Becker’s at the bar, and it’s just me here right now, so you won’t have to be embarrassed by him teasing you.”

  “Whew. ’Cause I don’t need shit from him right now.”

  “You’ll only get it from me. See you soon,” she said, but her voice sounded muted and she hung up quicker than usual.

  He shrugged to himself. He’d be seeing her soon enough, and if something was wrong, he’d find out. He leashed up Henry and went on his way. When Travis arrived at her house—the one she shared with Becker since she’d moved in with him—he spotted what he wanted by the front porch.

  Megan had a green thumb, and a talent for turning any place she lived into a garden paradise. She’d quickly made her mark on Becker’s home. His front yard dazzled with a veritable potpourri of vibrant colors—bright orange dahlias, rich purple asters, and sunshine-loving daisies.

  He rolled down the window for Henry, who hung his snout out and watched from the passenger seat as Travis walked to the door. He knocked. Becker opened the door. Travis jerked his head, surprised to see his friend. “Hey. I thought you were at The Panting Dog tonight.”

  “I was. But I came home for a minute,” he said.

  Travis held up his hands as stop signs. “No need to say more,” he said because clearly a minute was code for a quickie.

  Becker rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Megan said you need some flowers.”

  “I do,” he muttered, and wished his sister had answered the door. He didn’t need to be harassed by one of the guys about picking up some of Megan’s homegrown flowers for a bouquet for the woman he wasn’t even truly dating.

  Becker slapped a pair of gardening scissors in Travis’s hand. “Megan said to take what you want, but be sure to put them in water, so I’ll get you a vase.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Is she okay?”

  Becker nodded but said nothing more.

  “You sure?”

  Another nod was Becker’s only answer.

  His silence gave Travis pause, especially since Megan hadn’t been herself on the phone. But he’d have to trust Becker on this count. “If you say so,” Travis said, then he turned and walked down the steps to the front yard. As he snipped a few daisies, his spine tingled with awareness. He looked up. Becker leaned against the side of the house, ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest, a knowing smirk on his face.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “You. Bringing flowers to Cara. It kills me,” he said, chuckling.

  Travis sliced a few asters, keeping his face down, trying to reveal nothing. “How do you know they’re for Cara?”

  Becker laughed deeply, the sound echoing across the yard. “Oh, that’s a good one, Trav. Here’s your answer—because I have eyes.”

  Travis called on his poker skills. He bluffed, mustering his best nonchalant tone. “Just getting them for my mom.”

  But as the white lie tumbled out, he cringed. What was wrong with him? That was the worst bluff he’d ever attempted.

  Becker called him on it. “You let Mrs. Jansen know I hope she enjoys the daisies. I look forward to seeing them on her kitchen table when we stop by tomorrow to have dinner with her,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Travis rose and held out his hands, full of flowers and scissors. “Fine. You got me. They’re for Cara. I’m having dinner with her tonight.”

  Becker nodded, seemingly satisfied that he’d succeeded in this round. But he pressed on. “Why can’t you just admit you’re crazy for her?”

  Travis narrowed his eyes, a lick of annoyance racing through his blood. He wasn’t crazy for her. He wasn’t crazy for anyone. “It’s just dinner. She’s helping me with Henry, that’s all. And I helped her with her car,” he said, because at least that was all truthful. He was playing these cards better, so he upped the ante of his denial. “And why do you even want me to be crazy for her? You want me to join you on this side? C’mon. You were like me. You stayed out of the line of fire when it came to this stuff.”

  “Yeah, and then everythin
g changed when I met Megan, and I haven’t once looked back. But the funny thing is, man, you look an awful lot like me when I was chasing your sister,” he said, gesturing to the burst of color Travis gripped in his palm. “Granted, I’ve only known you for two years, but never in that time have I seen you bring flowers to a woman.”

  Travis held his chin high. “I’ve given plenty of gifts to women before, thank you very much. I’m not some jackass who doesn’t do the basics like flowers and chocolate.”

  Becker laughed. “Fair enough. But from your sister’s garden? The flowers your sister grows? That’s a horse of a different color. Next you’re going to tell me you’re baking brownies and cookies for her.”

  Oh shit. A flush of heat spread over his cheeks. What the hell? He didn’t blush. He had no tells. And now was the time that a splash of red raced across his face? His brain cycled through possible denials, reaching for something plausible. But he was saved by the appearance of Megan in the doorway. She held out a vase filled with water. Her face looked pale, and her hand felt clammy as he took the vase. “You okay? You don’t look so hot.”

  “I don’t feel so hot. I’m a little under the weather,” she said, then absently dropped her hand to her belly.

  Travis’s radar went off, blaring like a police siren. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He pointed. “You’re pregnant.”

  Megan’s answer flashed in her eyes—a flicker of joy. Her lips dared to curve up ever so briefly with the start of a wild grin that she quickly reined in. “Why would you say that?”

  “Who’s in denial now?” he said, smiling widely. “I say it because it’s true. Isn’t it?” He stared hard at her, giving her a look as if he had X-ray vision, knowing it had worked when they were younger. Her lips twitched, and her eyes sparkled, and after a few seconds, she nodded vigorously.