For the record, it wasn’t a draw, and Travis had totally won.
He pulled himself onto the dock, still high on adrenaline from the lake, and the kids, and Rachel.
His mama stood next to Dane. She did not appear thrilled. As a matter of fact, if he had to guess, she’d start talking about her pretend cat pretty soon.
Dane gave him a sorry-she-made-me-bring-her-along look.
Travis pulled each of the boys out of the water onto the dock. Rachel was already climbing the ladder and made it to the top before he could even offer assistance, because, of course, she didn’t need help.
She was Rachel.
And as soon as she hit the top step, she wrapped a towel around herself—which was a shame—and helped her boys dry off.
He didn’t realize he was staring at her until his mother hissed his name. “Travis.”
Mama’s tone caught his attention. He turned.
She stepped forward, towel extended like a peace offering. But he knew that look in her eyes. Knew that was not what this was.
“Rachel is Gavin’s wife.” She said the words softly, but in the tone she used when there was no debate.
His mother had already made her feelings on the Rachel subject perfectly clear.
“They’re not married anymore,” Travis said, doing his best to ignore his mama’s tone. “They had one of the shortest marriages in the history of marriage. You should know, you were there.”
“Messing around with your brother’s wife is not what our family stands for.” Mama’s cheeks were scooting right past pink into red territory.
“No, we stand for toaster tarts.”
Past red and into full crimson, her face blazed. “My cat is so disappointed right now.”
Her and her fake cat.
Travis took a deep breath and leaned forward to peck his mama’s cheek.
“Rachel is off-limits,” she said.
“You should know better than to set limits,” Travis replied, just as softly as she’d spoken. “I don’t pay attention to them anyway.”
CHAPTER 12
TRAVIS
Travis was in the doghouse.
Not the figurative doghouse. This was of the literal variety, as the puppies were his to watch for the night.
“We need to talk about Brady.” Travis held his cell up to his ear as he stretched out on his bed.
“The airplane stuff?” Gavin asked carefully.
The “airplane stuff?” It was never just the “airplane stuff.” Travis knew the look in Brady’s eye; heck, he’d experienced it himself when he was about Brady’s age. The look that meant the kid was destined to be a pilot. That type of desire settled deep in the soul, and there was only one solution—flight.
“Yeah,” Travis said, already knowing how the conversation would turn.
“Rachel reached out. She said you might talk to me, too.” Gavin’s resigned voice came through the other end. “She doesn’t want him to fly.”
Travis held his palm to his face. “He loves the sky. I can feel it.”
