Roxy groaned, shaking her head with another smile. Travis plucked the drink and dessert menu from where it was stashed close to the wall of the booth and flipped it over to glance over it. “Rox, wanna split a slice of pecan pie?”
If he hadn’t looked up at her at the same time he’d asked the question, he would have missed the fear that clouded her eyes, the way they darted around them in sheer panic. And then her face shuttered, the fear gone, but so was the warmth, the easy banter. She shook her head no. He replaced the menu in its spot on the far edge of the table and turned to the waiter. “No, I think we’re good. Thanks, though. Just the check.”
As the waiter retreated again, Roxy raised her eyes to his, and the blankness in them couldn’t completely mask the fear buried deep. His chest ached. “Don’t ever call me that.”
He nodded gravely, his eyes tracking every nuance of her face, her expression. “Roxy.”
She swallowed hard, dropping her eyes from his, her arms banding around her waist tightly.
“Roxy.” Still, she kept her eyes averted, returning to sweeping across the still crowded restaurant. He lowered his voice into a gruff murmur. “Red.”
Her eyes came back to his finally, and he kept her stare, holding her gaze.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She nodded, just once, the movement stiff. She offered no other explanation, and he didn’t press for one. He dug into hisback pocket, pulling out his wallet, and placed several bills into the black book that the waiter came back with moments later. The poor kid was still watching Roxy avidly, his tongue damn near hanging out of his skull. Travis glowered at the kid, who finally got the hint and shuffled off quickly.
Wanting—needing—to touch her, he offered his hand to her after he stood from his side of the booth. She stared at it for a long time, as if weighing the decision, but then she slid her fingers across his palm. His fingers curled around hers, and the shock that grazed his skin had nothing to do with static energy.
She stood, keeping her fingers entwined with his as he led them back through the crowded restaurant and out the front door. The night air was crisp, cooler than when they’d entered, and he watched as goosebumps flashed across her exposed skin. It felt wonderful to him, the coolness of the air combatting the inferno that was raging under his skin, radiating from where her hand was tucked safely into his. He released it as they approached his Bronco, opening the passenger door for her to climb in.
He took several deep, steadying breaths as he rounded the hood of the car before climbing in behind the wheel.
They drove in silence, the only sound in the cab of the vehicle the thrum of the tires on the road as it flew beneath them, and the country music that was playing quietly in the background.
When he pulled into a parking space several cars down from where her car was still parked outside of the gym, he turned the car off and exited. She climbed out as he rounded the hood again, and then he walked her toward her car in the darkness. The lights from the gym were still on, casting light to dancing across the sidewalk as they approached her car.
“Red.”
She stopped, her hands tucked into the pockets of her light teal jacket, and looked up at him. She had the stretchy athleticjacket zippered clear up to her chin against the slight chill, the collar brushing beneath her chin and sides of her jaw. Her hair, still piled on top of her head in that adorably messy topknot, begged to be let down. He wanted to feel those curls wrapped around his fingers. Those mesmerizing green and gold flecked eyes met his.
She was so fucking beautiful it hurt.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats; he took a step toward her. She retreated, her back coming into contact with the side of her car. Her head tipped up, eyes remaining laser focused on his, but her lips had parted slightly, and he could see the rapid fluttering of her heart in her throat. He was desperate to feel that wild fluttering with his tongue.
“You want to know how I know that kid at the restaurant was dazzled by you?” She stared up at him, her eyes wide, as he moved in one step closer. He ached to press his lips to the smattering of freckles that ran across each cheek and bridged her nose. Lazily, slowly, he let his gaze track over her face before murmuring gruffly, “Because I’m dazzled by you, too.”
He could have sworn she stopped breathing as she stared up at him, and he smirked, just the corner of his lips tilting up. He tilted at the waist, hands still shoved in his pockets—to keep from touching her—until he leaned down close enough to let his lip trail over the corner of her mouth, flitting over her cheek lightly. Fuck she smelled good.
Her breath drew in on a sharp gasp, and the sound did awful, wonderful things to his cock, but neither of them moved an inch. He didn’t come any closer, and she didn’t shove him away. Slowly, so slowly, he straightened. His gaze found those wide, hazel eyes once more.
“Good night, Roxy.”
Thirteen
He waited until she’d scrambled into her car, starting it, before he turned away to walk back toward his. Her heart was a jackhammer in her chest, sending debris and shards of herself flying throughout her body, her soul, making one helluva mess at the very center of her being.
She didn’t dare look his direction as she put her car in gear and backed out of the parking spot, though out of her peripheral she could see him as he climbed in behind the wheel of his Bronco. Roxy kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she drove away, only daring to look in the rearview mirror afterward. She could see the red glow of his brake lights, and then the flash of white as he reversed out of his parking spot, too. He turned in the opposite direction, and as she turned the corner, his taillights disappeared out of sight.
Her mind was a maelstrom; every thought whirling too fast to process before the next was nearly suffocating her.
The feel of Travis’s mouth, his lips brushing over the corner of her mouth, her cheek… heat coursed through her at the memory and she blew out a steadying breath in the darkness of the car.
“Ohmygod,” she whispered into the void. The softness of his beard as it tickled her cheek, she had wanted to reach up and grab hold of either side of his face, just to finally know what it felt like beneath her fingers, her palms. Her nails had dug craters into her palms where she’d squeezed them inside the pockets of her jacket, just to keep from reaching for him, from touching. She had wanted to twist his head so that his mouth—that had been so dangerously close to her own—could connect with hers. She wanted to know what his lips felt like against her own, wanted to know what he tasted like, what his tongue would do as it entered her mouth.
She was home minutes later, pulling into the driveway. The headlights shone on the front of the house briefly before she turned the car off, climbing out.
Now that she was home, her body felt weary, exhaustion weighing her down heavily. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well, instead throwing herself headfirst into work, workouts and classes. The physical toll of working herself as hard as she had earlier, along with the hypoglycemia attack had left her drained.
