Yes, he should keep moving. But Travis was never any good at doing what he should do. So he knocked against the thick wooden door, and he waited.
CHAPTER 13
RACHEL
Work was not going well. What with Rachel spending a large part of the evening trying to figure out what the heck had happened in the water with Travis.
She knew what an erection was, and that thing he’d been toting around in the frigid lake was definitely an erection.
After an abundance of thought, she’d come to the realization that there were two potential reasons for that-which-could-never-be-mentioned-again.
One, he wanted something that was off-limits. Evelyn had been perfectly clear about Rachel’s off-limits status.
Or two, he wanted to stick it to Gavin, using Rachel as his latest method in their ongoing sibling rivalry.
Either option was a nonstarter for her.
The tap on the door jostled her from the spreadsheet in which she was elbow deep, creating Cassie’s latest social media posts. She scowled at the screen of her computer and the empty spaces that still needed to be filled.
“Come in,” Rachel called.
A piece of hair, from the mess of a knot she’d tied it in, fell in front of her face. She blew it away as she dropped in a funny graphic about making nutritious choices. The image involved a side salad having a discussion with a box of French fries.
Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect on her, because she now really wanted fries.
She glanced up when the door opened and did a double take as nighttime Travis strolled right through. His appearance made the mountain air feel even thinner in her blood. She gulped and hoped he didn’t notice.
Black, totally respectable pajama pants and an unremarkable black T-shirt that seemed like the extra soft cotton kind. His hair a little messy, and not like he’d tried to make it look that way. He had the just-out-of-bed rumpled thing going on.
She bit at the insides of her lips because she didn’t trust what she might say to him. Probably something about the near-meeting of their lips in the lake and what she felt going on below his waistband, even though the water had been freaking cold.
He had both dogs tagging along—they were still awake, but she wouldn’t complain about it, since they were his problem that night. He also had a heap of bedding under his arm. She wasn’t going to ask about it, because she needed to finish this up.
Rachel was not sitting at the desk. She was sitting on the not-so-comfy-but-it-looked-nice leather sofa. The big mahogany desk made her feel like she was running an evil empire of toaster tart products instead of a tidy, virtual personal assistant company.
She took a second to really look at him and he seemed off—a little grumpier than usual. He was scowling like he also needed to put together a social media spreadsheet.
“Everything okay?” She reached up to pull her hair loose. It fell out of the mess she’d pinned it in.
She liked to tie it out of the way when she focused, but it looked totally ridiculous when she tucked it up into the weird bun that yanked her bangs out of her face and also kept her hair off her neck.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, but he still frowned. He didn’t seem to be scowling at her, mostly at the world in general.
The dogs pulled at their leashes, trying to get to her, but Travis held them firmly. He seemed like he wasn’t really sure why he was there. Yet here he was.
She had that feeling a lot in life, so she understood. “I’m just checking out for the night,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thought I’d see if you needed anything.”
Oh, well, that was sweet of him. Look at him being nice. It was probably his erection from earlier talking. Loss of blood flow to the brain did that to a guy.
She pressed her glasses up against her nose—she didn’t wear them often, but she’d already removed her contacts for the night—and tried not to blush, because he was just being nice, nothing more.
Yet, his simple attempt at being nice had her cheeks heating. Go figure.
“I’m good.” She adjusted her flannel pajamas—the comfy two-piece kind with a string of buttons running up the front that went all the way to her neck, and the matching pajama bottoms that were one of the least sexy clothing items she owned.
Not that she needed to worry about wearing sexy pajamas when she was on a family vacation. Or ever.
She’d given up on satin and anything with lace because Brady and Kellan had the Frank stomach, and after getting thrown up on one too many times, she’d realized that flannel was much easier to clean. Flannel popped right into the washing machine without having to do anything special to the fabric.
