Chapter Twenty-One
His mother fiddled with his bow tie, straightening it. He huffed out a sigh. “Mom,” he said.
“Travis,” Robert chided as he watched from the kitchen doorway. “This is your mom’s only chance to neaten a bow tie. Let her enjoy it. Well, unless you’re the best man at your sister’s wedding.”
His mom’s eyes lit up.
“Yes. More bow-tie fiddling,” Travis said. “I can’t wait. Besides, there’s no best man today. And no bridesmaids. I told you that before.” He wasn’t a huge fan of weddings, but admittedly, Smith and Jamie’s “all our friends will stand with us” philosophy was a cool idea.
“Let me fiddle,” she said. Travis relented, letting his mom smooth her hands over his shoulders now. “You look very handsome. And I can’t wait ’til you’re the best man again.”
“Always the best man, never the groom,” he said, standing taller as he reminded her of his always single status.
His mom shot him a rueful smile. “I know how you feel about relationships. Now be on your way. Henry only has six more months of being a lone grandchild before I have a human one, too,” she said, as she grabbed a tennis ball from the living room coffee table, and held it up high for Henry. The dog sat on the living room carpet, wagging his tail and panting eagerly for the ball.
Travis held out a hand. “Wait. You need to check this out. This is the big finish for the auction.”
He showed them the dog’s special trick, and Henry executed it perfectly. Like a pro.
From the doorway, Robert slow clapped. “Very impressive. He’ll be great on stage. He is a certified chick magnet for sure.”
“Yup. He graduated with full honors from the class in How to Reel Them In,” he said, handing the dog back to his mom.
“I’ll say,” she said. “Now, go have fun.”
Travis left, hopped into his truck, and drove to the vineyard where he’d be meeting Cara. When he parked at Ode Vines and stepped out of the car, his heart beat faster than he was used to. A strange prickling sensation traveled down his spine.
Like spiders inching along his back.
His stomach seemed to flip, ever so briefly, and he stared at his midsection as if he could ask his body what the hell was going on. Were those nerves? Nah. He couldn’t possibly have nerves. This wasn’t his wedding.
But as he shut the door to his truck and crunched across the gravel parking lot, scanning for Cara near the entryway, those nerves seemed hell-bent on having their way with him.
He reached the stone path leading into the winery and heard his name
“Travis!”
He spun around, the late afternoon sun blinding him. He slapped his hand above his eyes to shield them from the rays and hunted for the voice that was making his heart dance furiously in his chest. The only voice that could do that to him.
“I forgot my purse. Just grabbing it from the limo,” he heard Cara say. Then, he spotted a long, gleaming black bullet of a car—the luxury vehicle that the ladies had ridden over in. As he crossed the parking lot, he could see clearly again.
The world around him narrowed to one single color.
Peach.
He’d never been jealous of an item of clothing before. Not until he saw the way the peach dress hugged her body, clinging so deliciously to her full breasts, her slim waist, and those fantastic legs. The dress stopped at her knees, offering him a fantastic view of her calves.
She was stunning.
He walked to her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said preemptively. It was his natural gut reaction. She was beauty from head to toe, in every way. He was a lucky son of a bitch to have this woman on his arm, and he intended to savor every single second of this last night out with her. After this affair ended, maybe even one day soon, some bastard would win her for good and take her home every night. That image was a strange black cloud that appeared out of nowhere, briefly enveloping him in its awfulness.
He blinked, if he could shake away the horrible notion of someone else gazing at her the way he looked at her.
“So are you,” she said, then she gestured to the winery. “We should go in.”
The door to the backseat of the limo was still open, so he reached behind her to shut it. As he held out an arm, he could see a flash of his future, closing the car door for her, taking her out, having her by his side at these events. But then, just as quickly as that reel played, his arms felt trapped, pinned down and tied up by those possibilities. They weren’t in his game plan. They led to hurt, to pain, and to risks he couldn’t let himself take.
He was a guy for the present, not for the future.
He tried his best to erase those images of her and him together. Delete them from his mental files. But his damn brain was being tricked by how goddamn beautiful she was right now.
“So, um, you look great,” he said as they neared the stone path leading to the big main doors of the winery. He realized he’d already said that. Why the hell was he repeating himself?
“So do you,” she said, and it seemed she’d said that, too. Perhaps she was suffering from the same bout of tongue-tied-ness.
“Damn weddings,” he mumbled.
“What do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head.
“They’re just so…” he said, but couldn’t finish the thought, so he let his voice trail off.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said in a soft, wistful tone, then squeezed his arm tighter. His heart thumped harder, and he wished that he didn’t like it so much that she simply got him. That he didn’t have to explain everything. She knew what he meant. Weddings were just so damn hard. The promises of commitment, the way two people could look at each other and see forever. His chest clenched, and a hot burst of high-octane dread coursed through him as they reached the door.
He didn’t feel at home in his own damn body, and he couldn’t figure out why. So he turned to the one thing he knew for certain. Contact with her. He pulled her away from the door, and around to the side of the building, then tugged her into a quiet doorway.
“What is it?” she asked. “The wedding starts in a few minutes.”
He didn’t answer her with words. He held her face and dropped a quick kiss to her lips. Hers were soft, and she tasted so damn sweet, like lip gloss, and the way he imagined the word “pretty” would taste. A soft, sexy sigh escaped her lips as she melted into his arms. She wedged her gorgeous body against his, fitting so perfectly alongside him. He gathered her closer, roping his arms around her, kissing her more deeply and letting her feel how utterly turned on he was by her.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?” he asked, and finally, he was on sure footing again. The way their bodies were in sync made much more sense than this topsy-turvy day. Everything else was a jumble, but this—the pure physical—was as simple as knowing when to hold and when to fold. He vastly preferred the things he understood.
She wriggled against his erection. “I do know.”
“Damn, now I’m gonna be hard during the wedding. Not good.”
“Want me to talk about sweaty basketball players so it goes down?” she said with a naughty smile, and he laughed then let his eyes drift to the front of his pants.
“Admittedly, that image helped a bit. But being next to you isn’t going to help. I’ll be thinking about you the whole time, and how I want you. How many ways I want you,” he said, lowering his voice.
She pretended to swat him, but the sexy smile on her face told him that she liked his words, so he kept going. They were so easy to say to her. “You look more than beautiful, and you make it too difficult to keep my hands off you,” he said. He couldn’t resist raining down compliments on this woman. Or touching her, for that matter, so he returned to her lips, kissing her softly, tracing his tongue along the sweet curve of her top lip, then nibbling on the bottom one. Soon, she placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away.
“Travis, you’re turning me on far too much. I can’t stand there all worked up and wanting you as they get married.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said emphatically. “Now, let’s go to the ceremony before we’re too hot and bothered for our own good.”
“I like hot and bothered,” he whispered, as she led him around to the vineyard.
Twenty minutes later, he was surrounded by the fragrance of grapes and the twisting branches of vines as Smith pledged to love Jamie for the rest of his life, and as Jamie repeated those same words back to him. Even though weddings weren’t his thing, and he would never ever be the man in front of everyone making those promises, he couldn’t help but be happy for his friend. Smith had been crazy about Jamie for a long time, and they’d been friends for years before they finally admitted how they felt.
“Do you, Smith, pledge to love, honor, and cherish this woman for the rest of your life?”
The deep voice of the justice of the peace boomed over the crowd, and Travis hazarded a glance at his date, who stood next to him. Her eyes were fixed on the couple, her lips parted slightly, so much restrained emotion on her face, it was as if she were one step away from crying. As Smith said yes and clasped Jamie’s hands in his, a tear slid down Cara’s cheek.
Before Travis could think better of it, he brushed it off, then threaded his fingers through hers. He hated to see a woman cry. He had ever since he’d seen far too much of it from his mother. He’d do just about anything to make a woman stop crying.
Especially over something like a wedding.