He shrugged one shoulder, still holding out the container of cut fruit. His eyes never left hers. “I make sure to have some in my bag, just in case. Any night you don’t need it, I eat it on the way home.” He shrugged again. “And it’s easier to have it precut than have to use my switchblade all the time.”
Her head fell to the side just slightly, shaking in awe. Tears stung her nose sharply at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. She reached out and took the container from him, their fingers grazing. “Travis…”
“You promised me no extra paperwork. If you pass out again, that promise is then null and void, and we’re going to have a problem. Eat, please.” His eyes were shining with humor, but he nodded toward her hands anyway, indicating for her to start eating. He grinned then, resting his elbow on his bent knee, leaning toward her slightly as he murmured huskily, “Unless you’re just looking for an excuse to get me to take you out for dinner again. All you have to do is tell me, baby girl.”
Her mouth dropped open in astonishment, a startled laugh bubbling out of her. He winked, and Roxy felt more of that barbed wire fence wrapped around her heart giving way.Shit I’m in so much trouble. He’s just so goddamncharming.
She sat up straighter then, as if being yanked upright, as warning bells blared in her head a moment later.Charming. Charming was dangerous. Charming was a façade for narcissistic behavior. Neal had been charming once, too. And she’d told herself never again would she be wooed by a pretty face or dashing smile. Men didn’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts without expecting something in return. And she had nothing to give. Nothing she was willing to give.
Dropping her gaze from his to the pieces of sliced fruit in her lap, she tried to tell herself that Travis wasn’t like Neal. He wasn’t trying to hurt her; he was trying tohelpher.
Anger bubbled up then, and she shoved the container back at him. He took it, more out of surprise, his light brows furrowing over his honey-gold eyes. “I don’t need your pity oranges, or a pity date, Travis.”
“Pity oranges?” he growled, and she felt his eyes as they bored into the side of her face, which she kept resolutely turned away from him.
“I don’t need your help, either.”
“What the fuck arepity oranges, Roxy?” he asked, his voice low and lethal.
She gestured toward the Tupperware still in his hand, while stuffing her things into her own bag. Her hands shook. Fuck. Maybe she should have eaten at least a few of those before shoving them away. No. She wouldn’t let him see her tremble. Raising her defiant stare to his, she said, “I’m not your problem to deal with, Travis. Again, nothing about me is any of your business. So leave me alone.”
“It is my business if you pass out in my class because you’re too stubborn to accept help when you need it—”
“I don’t need your help!” she exclaimed, surging to her feet. Lights flashed like stars on the outsides of her vision, but she steeled her shoulders. “I don’t need help from any man, Travis. So back off.”
Hoisting her gym bag over her shoulder, she marched across the now empty mat toward the door. Pushing open the door, she sucked in the cool evening air, taking long, deep breaths, before heading down to her car. She sank into the driver’s seat, fumbling with the zipper of her bag and pulling out a package of peanut butter crackers. She managed to tear the plastic open despite how badly her hands were shaking, and took a bite of the cracker.
Resting her head against the head rest, she sighed, closing her eyes as she chewed through three of the six crackers. The trembling lightened, but it wasn’t completely gone, her heart still racing slightly.
Eyes still closed, she heard his footsteps on the sidewalk, and then next to her car, before a light knock sounded on her window. She opened her eyes, glancing at him, before sighing and rolling the window down. He leaned his forearms against the windowsill, his face appearing as he ducked to look in at her.
“Are you done?” he asked, his tone droll.
She rolled her lips in between her teeth and took another long, deep breath in, letting it out just as slowly. She knew he wasn’t referring to the blood sugar attack… but rather the temper tantrum she’d just thrown. She nodded grudgingly.
“So, you get ornery when your blood sugar dips, that’s good to know,” he murmured gently, teasing lightly. She rolled her eyes. “Dinner or a drive home, what’s it going to be, baby girl?”
Admitting defeat, she caught his gaze and whispered, “Dinner, please.”
He grinned, a quick flash of his beautifully straight white teeth, and winked again. “I told you all you had to do was ask, Roxy.”
Twelve
“This isn’t a date,” Roxy muttered over to him from the passenger seat of his Bronco.
He grinned again, glancing over at her from the driver’s side. He had his left hand draped loosely over the steering wheel, his right hand resting on the shifter between them. She was so cute when she was prickly.
“Of course not,” he agreed, though the grin stayed in place, tipping the corners of his mouth up slightly. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes at him and chuckled.
“And I could have driven myself,” she continued, crossing her left leg over her right, as if trying to angle her body away from his. He knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she tried to portray. Christ, his entire body was on fire knowing she was close enough for him to touch. He wouldn’t, of course. But this little spitfire did things to him that he hadn’t expected. Felt a vicious tug in his chest that he had thought was long dead.
He glanced over at her with a baleful glare and she huffed, crossing her arms over her middle. “Your hands are still shaking; you weren’t driving anywhere, Red.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, watching out the passenger window as he turned them onto the highway headed toward North Fort Worth.
“Salty’s Steakhouse.” He glanced over at her again as they merged onto the interstate. “You can google their menu. It only takes a few minutes to get there.”
“I’ve been to Salty’s,” she muttered sourly, though he watched as she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and opened the browser. She scrolled through the menu, her right hand tapping at her mouth idly, and then she pulled her bottom lip through her teeth and he had to bite back a groan. “Ooh, they have grilled salmon.” Turning her head to look at him, she said, “Let me guess; you’re a strictly lean chicken and raw veggies kinda guy. No carbs, no sweets, no fun foods.”
