Fix Her Up

Who was she kidding? This relationship was the furthest thing from casual. For her. Travis returning her new, decidedly adult feelings was one giant, unrealistic hope that needed to be squashed early. He couldn’t be making it any more difficult to heed that warning. Fashioning her fireplace out of her favorite childhood tree. Kissing her with so much . . . passion. Yeah, passion. It was a real thing, turned out. Her intention had been to show Travis he was worth a commitment. That he was worthy, period. How far was she willing to go, when every second together deepened the love she’d always felt?

Georgie almost had the shirt off when the floor creaked just beyond the bathroom door. She yanked the blue cotton back down, her heart flying to her throat. Caught. She was totally caught. This would go down as the moment Travis ran for the hills.

The door opened.

Georgie spun around. “So. Funny story . . .”

Steam billowed out around Travis and his wet head. Wet, curling chest hair. Just wet. In all the places. The towel around his waist was so low, she could almost see where the happy trail led. The happy forest, that’s where. An amused smile transformed his face as he walked out of the steam. “Is that my jersey?”

Georgie shook herself. “I, um . . . only bought it because they didn’t have Nunez.”

He stopped in front of Georgie, lifting her chin with his index finger. Because she’d definitely been laser focused on the dick print tunneling to one side on the front of his towel. “Liar.” His fingers traced down to her shoulder, running along the seam of the shirt. “You wear it often?”

“No,” she said too quickly.

A line formed between Travis’s brows. Something she couldn’t name passed behind his eyes, like an awareness. Or guilt? But that couldn’t be right. “I like seeing you in it.” He leaned down and engaged her mouth in a slow, erotic kiss that went straight to her toes, pinging every erogenous zone on the way down. “Just not tonight.”

His head dipped for another kiss, dark intent making his irises seem black. Their mouths met and his hands found the hem of her—his?—their shirt, yanking it up—

The doorbell rang.

Travis’s forehead fell to hers, his humorless laugh pelting her mouth with heat. “Jesus Christ. This is karma, isn’t it? She’s out to get me.”

She waded through the lust clouding her brain. “Who is that?”

He turned his head to check her bedside table clock. “That’s the dinner I ordered, in all my infinite wisdom.”

“Lo mein?”

Travis laughed and pulled her close, turning them ninety degrees and guiding her from the bedroom, kissing Georgie as he walked her backward, their steps matching. “If I don’t fuck you soon, Georgie, I’m going to need a straitjacket.”

Heat stained her cheeks. “I prefer you in a towel.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed, you pervert.”

They reached the front door and Travis pinned her up against it, fully ignoring the deliveryman outlined in the glass. He kissed her hard, angling his hips against hers, making her gasp at what she felt there.

“Talk. We have to talk. This is a good thing.” His thumb found her bottom lip, tracing it, before sliding into her mouth. “Food first,” he rasped. “Man, I hate food right now.”

The doorbell rang again. “You can’t answer the door like that,” Georgie whispered.

One of Travis’s eyebrows went up. “I ordered chicken parm from Marciano’s.”

Her pulse stuttered. “How did you know my favorite?”

He shrugged. “Vivian might have mentioned it.”

No, he’d asked. She could tell by the way he tried to play it off. Oh, she was in deep trouble if this was Travis’s version of casual. “Why haven’t you opened the door yet?”

Travis kissed her forehead with smiling lips and reached past her to open the door, using it to block the man’s view of her. Georgie couldn’t resist turning to watch through the glass, though, as the deliveryman gaped at the former major league baseball player in a girl-sized towel.

“Uh. Delivery for Ford.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Travis Ford, right? I thought you lived in that three-family on Caroline Avenue.”

“I do.” Travis took the bag and handed it to Georgie with a wink. “This is my . . . girlfriend’s house.”

Knowing he’d called her the title for show didn’t stop Georgie from almost levitating.

“Right. Girlfriend.” The guy laughed as if they were in on a joke, but he sobered when Travis stared at him in stony silence. “Listen, I’ve been kind of hoping you would call for a delivery at some point. I play for the high school, and we would freaking die if you came to run a fall clinic or something. Maybe just pass on some of your tricks, you know?”

“Not this time around.” Travis’s smile was tight, and Georgie could tell he didn’t enjoy letting the kid down. “Maybe when my work schedule loosens up.”

Even though Georgie couldn’t see the delivery boy’s face clearly, his disappointment was palpable. “Yeah. Hey—do you think I could get a picture?”

“I’m in a towel, kid.”

“Yeah, no one is going to believe this.”

Georgie was laughing into her wrist when Travis gave her a thoughtful look. “Sure, take your picture.” The kid turned around and held up his phone for a selfie. Travis held up his right biceps and flexed. “Make sure you get the address in the picture.”

“Sure, Mr. Ford.”

A moment later, Travis closed the door. Obviously deciding to ignore the suspicious look on Georgie’s face, he stooped down and threw her over his shoulder. “What?”

“What?” Georgie fumbled to keep the sacred chicken parm upright. “I thought we were supposed to be courting the family-friendly crowd. There’s nothing family friendly about your . . .”

“My what?”

Georgie felt her face heat. “The towel hides nothing.”

Her world righted itself as Travis set her down on the cool counter, stepping between her legs with a wicked smile. “Are we talking about my dick?”

“The one and only.” God, he was so close with that flirting smile and he smelled like her soap. Was this man really in her kitchen, planning to feed her and deflower her? All on the same night? “I—I mean, you can’t exactly hide it.”

“Nah.” He tucked his tongue into his cheek. “It doesn’t hide well.”

Oh, mama. “Right. But, I guess, as long as the network thinks I’m the only one seeing it, you’re fine.”

A shadow crossed his eyes. “That’s right.”

Georgie wished she hadn’t just reminded him their relationship was based on reaching a goal. Wanting to bring them back to the comfortable place they’d been, she lifted her hands to settle them on his chest, but got cold feet and left them suspended.

“What’s that?” Travis frowned at her hands. “You seem hesitant to touch me. Like you’re not sure I want it.”

I’ve been dreaming about touching you for so long, having the opportunity seems surreal. “No, I—”

“That hug you gave me yesterday in your parents’ living room?” His palms skimmed up her thighs, setting off a low tug in her belly. “I’ve been jerking off thinking about it. Jerking off to a hug, Georgie. Your hands need to report for duty.”

She slowly settled her palms on his pecs, her fingertips sifting through now-dry hair. “Yes, Travis.”

A ripple moved down his muscled chest and stomach. “Keep them there.” Giving her a dark look, he reached to the side and opened the takeout bag, removing the contents with jerky movements. She heard the clacking of plastic forks and knives, but couldn’t look away from Travis’s flexing triceps long enough to deduce what he was doing. Until he held a bite of saucy, cheesy chicken to her mouth. “Eat. I’m at the end of my rope.”

Georgie accepted the bite, humming as she swallowed. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I signed a lease on an office today.” His movements stilled, pride lighting up his eyes. It was breathtaking. She wanted to cuddle that reaction to her breasts and never let it go. It made her want to have the same pride in him. To give it back.

“Damn. Congratulations, baby girl.”

She wrestled with a smile. “The realtor was really put together and had that whole air-of-indifference thing happening, you know? When I was trying to get the courage to tell her I wanted the space, I thought of you standing up for me at dinner.”

He searched her face. “You did?”

“Yeah. It gave me a push.” She surrendered to the impulse to throw her arms around Travis’s neck, wincing when a bite of chicken got squashed between them. But when she tried to pull back, Travis dropped the plastic fork and wrapped his arms around her. “So I’m returning the favor now,” she whispered. “Just a quick reminder that you’re more than just baseball. It can still be something you love. Something you play and enjoy. And then you can return to you. You’re enough without it.”

His breath gusted into her neck. “Am I?”