Travis
“Travis Channing.”
“Kimberley Channing,” I said, matching my mom’s stern voice with one of my own. I arched a brow at her, trying to keep the arrogant grin from my lips, lest I earn a slap in the back of the head.
“I already told you to stop spending money on me,” she lectured, hands on her narrow hips. Mom had always been thin, especially back when I was a kid. She’d sacrifice everything on her plate so I could have a full meal in my belly.
“Mom,” I sighed, bringing my hand up to massage my temple. I was a little hungover, my head was pounding from lack of sleep, and I was more than a little desperate to get back up to my bedroom. But naturally, Mom had no pity for me and had gone straight for my metaphorical balls when I’d gone downstairs to grab some coffee. “Can we talk about this later, please?”
I glanced toward the stairwell that led to my bedroom. Originally, that room had been used as an entertainment room, but I’d liked the fact that it was separate from all the other bedrooms. It had made sneaking Becky in the night before really easy.
“No, we’re talking about it right now,” she insisted, pressing her hands down against the marble countertop and forcing me to pay attention to her.
“Fine,” I said, pressing the brew button on the coffee maker while I arched my brows at her. “I paid for your schooling to a program of your choice because you’re smart and you deserve to have a career.”
“I have a career,” Mom sounded a little hurt, but she masked it well enough. Most people wouldn’t have even detected it, but my mom was one of my best friend’s, and I knew her. “I like my job, Travis. I like the people I meet.”
Mom had worked as a waitress at a diner on the outskirts of town practically my whole life. She’d gotten pregnant with me when she was fifteen years old, knocked up by some guy that left town before she could even tell him about me. As a result, I grew up poor. Mom worked as hard as she could, but it was never enough. We often had to choose between paying rent and buying groceries. Shelter was important, especially during the cold Northern winters, so that came first.
But even though we struggled financially, my mom was an amazing mother. No matter how exhausted she was, she’d take time to play with me. She would throw a ball around in the backyard with me, and teach me how to cook using the limited ingredients in our cupboard. She taught me how to ride a bike and she was always singing, always dancing. Mom had a beautiful voice, and she passed that on to me.
When I was twelve, I vowed that one day, I’d change everything about her life. I’d take care of her so that she wouldn’t have to work so hard to barely get by.
And that’s exactly what I did. I worked my ass off so that one day, I could buy her a nice place to live in and make sure that she never went without anything ever again.
Some say I stumbled into fame, and maybe that’s true. When I was eighteen, I entered a talent show and scored a record deal, not from the producers of the show, but from a Nashville recording office that liked my voice and my songs and saw potential in me.
I worked my ass off every moment of my life to get where I was. Going from rags to riches made me feel invincible. The first thing I did after my first album went platinum was purchase the beautiful cottage on Lake Rosseau, where my mom lived year round. I came back for a couple months here and there, but I had mostly bought it for her.
At first, it wasn’t easy getting Mom to move from the prefabricated trailer I’d grown up in. She insisted that she didn’t want me to spend my money on her. I had to tell her that it was a great way for me to build up equity and that I couldn’t be there to manage the grounds when I was on tour ten months out of the year. I told her that I’d rather have someone I trusted living there than have to hire someone else to take care of it.
Only then did she agree to move in, but she kept her waitressing job, and I wanted her to do something more. I knew she was capable of it, and I lived in constant fear that I’d end up losing everything about this life I’d built. Stars fall all the time, musical careers die off and people fade into the background like they were never there. I didn’t want her to go back to life the way it was before if that ever were to happen to me.
“Just think about it, okay?” I sighed, turning back to face her. I knew how much she loved waitressing. She was comfortable there, she knew the job and excelled at it. She was afraid to fail at something new, and that’s what this was all about. I knew she wouldn’t fail, I knew she’d do amazing because my mom was smart and quick. My mom was a fighter.
But Mom lacked a formal education, and while she’d gotten her GED when I was in high school, she still felt like she wasn’t good or smart enough for more.
“I don’t want to think about it, I want you to get your money back and invest in your future,” she said firmly, her green eyes focused on my face.
“Maybe you could take a business course, or restaurant management. But we really do need to talk about this later, okay?” I said as the coffee finished brewing, the scent of it filling the room. I glanced back toward the stairs, hoping that my house guest wasn’t trying to sneak out on me.
Mom looked down, noticing the two cups I’d set in front of the press. She caught me looking toward the stairs again. “I take it one of those isn’t for me?” she arched a brow, pursing her lips.
“No, a friend crashed here last night,” I admitted, trying not to grin.
“A friend that you’re fetching coffee for? Must be one of the female variety,” Mom called me out.
“Hey, now,” I argued, grabbing the coffee pot from the cradle. “I would fetch a coffee for Brock if he asked. Gordon though, he’d be on his own. He’s a prick.”
“Watch your mouth Travis Joseph Channing before I wash it out with soap,” Mom threatened, wagging her finger at me. She hated when I swore. It didn’t matter how bad the curse word was, she’d flip her lid every single time.
“I think I’m a little old for that, Mom,” I chuckled. “But I’ll try to watch my tongue.”
“Is it her? On second thought, don’t answer that.” Shaking her head, Mom turned around and walked away, leaving me to it. “We’ll talk later. I’m going to the grocery store,” she said over her shoulder. She made a show of grabbing her purse and closing the door.
Chuckling, I poured the coffee and splashed some cream and sugar into one, leaving the other black. I made my way back to my bedroom and nudged the door open with my hip. I closed it as quietly as I could manage with my foot, then padded across the room to my bed.
Sunlight poured in through the windows. Her dark hair was spread out across my white pillow. Her thick lashes rested against her cheeks, and she breathed softly as she slept, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She was gorgeous, and nobody else compared.
I came to a stop at my side of my bed, setting both mugs of coffee down on the night table. My side of the bed, it was an odd thought for me, one that made me take pause and look back down at her naked, sleeping body. Before her, I liked playing the field. The whole damn bed was my side, and I liked dating super models and actresses. It felt good, powerful, even…but four years ago I realized how empty the whole thing was.
She was beneath my skin, embedded in my heart. She couldn’t see it, though. She didn’t believe I was capable of being the relationship type. That much was obvious from her reaction over the Nashville photos.
She didn’t trust me to catch her when she fell.
But I would, and I’d spend every day proving it.
Crawling into bed beside her, I laid on top of the sheet and brushed my hand across her naked shoulder, her skin smooth beneath my fingers. She inhaled, a soft smile spreading to her lips. “Quit staring at me, Travis.”
Her voice was groggy from the amount of moaning I had her doing last night, and it made me grin.
“Can’t help it,” I told her, my thoughts running amuck with memories of her beneath me.
“I look like crap,” she moaned, pulling the white sheet up over her head. I tugged it back down and rolled on top of her, pressing my body against hers. I was already hard again, already aching to be back inside her.
“You don’t look like crap,” I told her, a sly smirk on my face. “You look like you just had the best lay of your life.”
“That’s because I did,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing.
With the wedding over, there were no more excuses to hide behind. I wanted to claim her as mine in every way, and I’d risk the potential beat down if it meant at the end of the day, I could crawl into bed and fall asleep with her in my arms.
The allure of single life no longer appealed to me. I wanted to build something real with her, and I’d stop at nothing to prove it.
I pressed my hard length against her pelvis again, my Calvin Klein pajama bottoms and the sheet the only things preventing me from sliding into her. I felt her nipples pebble through the thin sheet against my naked chest, and I throbbed. I kissed her slowly, moving my body against hers. She broke away, breathlessly. “I have to go,” she told me, her voice full of regret. Her eyes bore into mine, panic and desire and adoration swirling around together, confusing me and intriguing me all at once.
“You’re going to have to wait until I’m ready to drive you home,” I reminded her, nudging her nose with mine. “Rob drove us back here, remember?” I murmured against her lips. She hummed in response and I kissed her again, softly tasting her and trying to coax her into relaxing. She kissed me back for several moments, her mouth hungrily moving against mine. Then she shuddered, and her hand pressed against my chest as she turned her head.
“I need to go,” she insisted, dragging her eyes back to mine. I could see panic within their blue depths, and it saddened me until she continued. “I need to pick Aiden up,” she said, pushing at my chest. “And I think it’d be better if I didn’t have you drop me off…in case Braden is still at the house.”
“I thought we were going to start telling people after the wedding?” I frowned, confused.
“Brock should be the first person to know, and I don’t want to trouble him on his honeymoon,” she said, biting her lip. “Besides…I think we should try dating for a few weeks without everyone knowing, to see if it’s even something we want to do.”
“Oh, dating you is something that I definitely want to do, and I want everybody to know it,” I responded cockily, pushing my pelvis into hers to drive the point home. Becky smiled and lifted her head, pressing her lips against mine softly.
“I’m not ready to tell anybody yet, Travis,” she admitted reluctantly, her eyes searching mine.
“Why not?” I was trying to be patient and understanding, but it was hard when all I wanted to do was shout from the rooftops that she was mine and I was hers.
“Because I’m afraid it will ruin it,” she confessed.
“How would telling our family and friends ruin it?” I asked her, looking down into her eyes.
“Everyone will have an opinion,” she pointed out. “And I don’t want to hear those opinions. It’s the first time I’ve even been in a relationship since…well, you know.”
“Right, well I’ll give Rob a text,” I said quickly, rolling off of her. I didn’t want to push her too far too soon, and I understood her reasons.
I sat on the edge of my bed and fired out a text message to my bodyguard, Rob, telling him to meet me out front with a car to take her home. He also doubled as a driver when I needed him to. I grabbed the black mug of coffee, downing it in three huge gulps. I handed the other mug to her and fell back into my bed, reading Rob’s reply. “He’ll be here in ten.”
I could feel her eyes watching me warily as she took a tentative sip from the mug she was holding. “Are you mad?” she asked me.
“No, I’m not mad,” I replied, turning to give her a reassuring smile. I wasn’t mad, but I was feeling a little bummed out that she was leaving so soon. I had illusions of spending the rest of the day with her, tangled up in my sheets.
“Good,” she breathed as she got up, bringing the sheet with her. She set the mug down on the other night table, her eyes scanning the room before she spotted her dress. It laid crumbled on the floor by my door. She walked over to it and picked it up, shimmying into the tight little number. I walked across the room to pull the strap up over her shoulder.
Moving her tangled hair out of the way, my fingers brushed along her spine, my breath fanned across the nape of her neck. Her skin erupted into goose bumps. I kissed the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck, loving how she tasted.
“Alright, he should be here by now,” I told her, pulling away.
I walked her to the front door, grabbing her hand before she could open it. I pulled her back to me for one lingering, bittersweet kiss. I could feel her heart racing through the pulse in her wrist.
I opened the door for her. Rob was waiting beside the black Escalade, his sunglasses in place. I knew I could count on him to get her home safely.
“Shit…my car,” Becky looked up at me with panic stricken eyes. She’d left it at the Armstrong’s the night before, and I knew she was dreading showing up with Rob to pick it up. That wouldn’t go unnoticed by any of the Armstrong’s, if they were to catch her.
Which is one of the reasons why I had already taken care of it. The other reason? I wanted to make her life a little easier in any way that I could. “Rob drove it back to your place last night. He slipped the keys into your mailbox,” I told her.
“How?”
“He went back for it after dropping us off. He took a cab from your house back to the Clayton’s to get his car.”
“That’s amazing! Thank you both,” she breathed, her shoulders relaxing. “I’ll see you at the farm,” she added, pressing her lips tentatively to mine before she slid out from under my arm and walked out to the car. Rob opened the back passenger door, letting her climb in before he closed it. I remained in the doorway, watching as the Escalade pulled away and trying to stomp down the pessimistic feeling sitting in my gut.
I understood it better than anybody, but it still sucked that we had to keep this secret for another week. It felt like we’d spent years being each other’s secret. I wanted to break free of that, but she was right; we needed to tell Brock first.
I walked back inside, letting the door slam behind me. I had to shower and get ready to head over to the Armstrong’s farm to help clean up the aftermath of the wedding reception. A part of me kind of wanted to sit at home and sulk with my guitar, but I had an obligation as one of the groomsmen. Braden would kick my ass if I bailed, and I knew I’d see Becky there.
Besides, there was no sense in sulking. At least Becky had acknowledged that we were something, even if she didn’t want to share that knowledge with the world. I was happy to live in a private bubble with her a while longer, but I knew I’d want to solidify things between us before I returned to Nashville in September.
I was in and out of the shower within five minutes and dressed within two. I pulled my Under Armour cap on over my wavy, damp hair and grabbed my keys and wallet. Mom was in the kitchen unloading groceries.
“Want any help with that?” I asked, grabbing an apple from the bag.
“I can handle it,” she replied, putting away the carton of eggs she’d bought. “What are your plans today?”
“I’ve got to go help clean up from the reception. Then who knows, maybe I’ll stick around and see what everyone’s up to, or maybe I’ll just come home,” I shrugged.
Mom nodded, giving me a loving smile. “Is Becky still here?”
“No, she left about half an hour ago,” I answered.
“Oh,” she looked a little put out by that. “I was hoping she’d stick around for brunch.”
“She has to change and pick Aiden up,” I explained, and Mom nodded with understanding.
“Another time then,” she mused.
“Might be a while Mom, we’re only just starting to figure things out and I don’t think she’d be comfortable with any sort of meet the parents type situation,” I warned her, kissing her on the forehead.
“I know. I’m just excited,” Mom smiled. “I’ve been wondering when you’re going to settle down and give me some grandkids.”
“Whoa,” I backed away slowly, my hands in the air and my eyes wide. “Slow your roll Mama C.” She laughed lightly as I practically sprinted from the kitchen and toward the garage. I couldn’t get out of the house quick enough.