“I’m not doing anything to the pineapple,” Rachel said, her voice raising before she quickly caught herself and hissed, “that’smy point.”
Here he was stealing her point without even so much as aplease may I have it?
Travis leaned closer, so only a foot of space separated them, enough that it should’ve been plenty. Yet even though it was a full foot of space, it felt like only a fraction of that. Like it was just the two of them there at the baseball field. His eyes held hers, her heart beat faster, her stomach twisting itself into lemony, whiskey-flavored knots.
“You make lewd gestures with a mango, we’ll have to have a private discussion about appropriate uses for groceries,” he said, utterly serious.
Blurgh. Gah.
She scowled at him.
He didn’t seem to care, settling in stride with her as the trio continued toward the bench.
“So she sticks to obviously sexual fruits and vegetables.” Molly nodded with her train of ridiculous thought.
What the hell was an obviously sexual fruit?
“No tropical fruits,” Molly tossed in, continuing. “Stick to the basics.”
Rachel stared openly at Molly like she was fresh in the act of molesting produce.
“I cannot believe I’m participating in this conversation,” Rachel said under her breath.
Travis’s eyes glimmered. “I don’t know, the conversation keeps getting more and more interesting. Makes me wonder where it’s going next.”
“Nowhere, it’s going nowhere,” Rachel mumbled, tripping a little over a crack in the sidewalk.
The stumble was slight, barely there, but Travis’s hand hovered at her elbow, apparently ready to save her from biffing it.
That wasniceof him.
He rarely did nice with Rachel. Not really.
He dished out the critical and sarcastic just fine, however.
Then she doled it right back at him.
Truthfully, it became exhausting.
“Feels like it’s going somewhere,” he said, as though he knew this for certain.
Blood flowed to her cheeks, and she would bet money soon she’d have hives. “Please, stop.”
He took her in for a moment, studied her with those deep brown eyes—like he really saw her. The feeling made her shiver all over.
“Maybe we should start over. Say hello and pretend we never had this conversation about groceries,” Travis suggested.
“Excellent,” Rachel said, eyes focused straight ahead so she didn’t trip again or get caught in his eyes once more.
“Trav!” Molly bounced along the path with them. “Good to see you here. What are you up to these days?”
“Not a thing other than watching my two favorite nephews win this here ballgame,” he replied, laying on his southern accent thicker than necessary, letting the full twang hang out.
If you asked Rachel, he should have to have a license when he wielded that thing. Some unsuspecting woman might just get smacked upside the head by the sheer sensual sounds he could produce.
His brothers didn’t wield their accents like that. They both seemed to cover the twang, to blend in with the other Coloradans.
Not. Travis.
