She smiled, bit at her bottom lip, and nodded, their noses brushing with the small movement.
“One second.” She turned to head toward the door. Travis watched her walk away.
He didn’t move for a long while after she’d left the room, distracting Brady and heading down the hallway toward his bedroom.
Travis swallowed and glanced at the dogs, then to the new linens he needed to swap onto his bed, and then to the blank space where Rachel had been earlier on the sofa.
The memory of her mouth against his had his insides pooling into melted sunshine.
Pure Rachel.
He closed his eyes, and he smiled.
CHAPTER 15
RACHEL
“Mooom,” Kellan said, milking the O in her name. “They come two in a bag for a reason.”
“One tart, and then you have to eat real food.” Rachel was careful to keep her voice low so that if Evelyn or Bob happened to be nearby, they wouldn’t hear her.
Evelyn took special offense to Rachel’s assertion that the toaster tarts did not, in fact, merit consideration as a solid breakfast option. Mostly, though, sugar wound her kids up tighter than red dye in gummy bears, so she tried to keep it to a minimum.
After popping a couple of the cinnamon-sugar-cream-cheese tarts into the toaster—one for each kid—she started
cracking eggs. A scramble would contain enough protein, she hoped, that it would counter the sugar filling, pastry dough, and frosting.
“Good morning, all.” Travis sauntered into the kitchen, looking rather dashing with his hair totally messed up. Still in his black pajamas from the night before, now they were rumpled from sleep. He looked great rumpled. Unshaved, he sported impressive stubble, too.
Rachel liked men fresh from the razor. She did. Stubble, however, was her favorite.
She glanced up mid-crack, and the eggshell collapsed in her hand with the pressure she inadvertently used.
Shoot.
Pete and Re-Pete followed Travis into the kitchen, ignoring everyone and going immediately to the kibble in their bowls.
“Good morning,” she replied, cheery, despite egg goo dripping down her wrist.
The warm smile Travis gave her made this all feel so domestic. And right. And her stomach did the flippy thing. “Did you boys sleep well?” Travis asked, sitting down at the table.
They nodded as Rachel plated and set a toaster tart in front of each kid.
“Can I get you breakfast?” Rachel asked, turning her focus to Travis.
He glanced up at her, so close and still far away. “I’ll get it.”
“We’re having toaster tarts and eggs.” She went back to cracking eggs, careful not to squeeze too hard.
Travis stood and moved closer to her. Not so close that
he was in her personal space, but close enough that she could smell his cedarwood shampoo.
“Yum,” he said, cracking open a foil packet holding a raspberry tart. The foil was the special kind with a paper outer layer and a foil interior.
He slipped the breakfast pastry into one of the pop-up toasters lining the edge of the counter. The kitchen may have had only a couple of spatulas, but it had four oversized toasters to make up for it. Gently, Travis ran his hand along the waistband at her back on his way to snag a plate from the cupboard to the left of the sink. The movement was barely noticeable, but she still felt every tender spot he touched.
He glanced at the boys. She followed his gaze. They were totally absorbed in watching cartoons on a tablet and, therefore, oblivious to the snap in the air surrounding their mother.
