Page 13 of The Maestro and the Roofer

Her head whipped toward him so quickly, she almost broke her neck. “What?”

Ironically, he raised his beer in a toast. “Cheers to that, right?”

“Jesus, Travis. I hope she doesn’t live in town, because I’d give her a piece of my mind.”

“Nah, she’s up in Boston now. Honestly, it would’ve ended in disaster anyway. I just wish the whole thing hadn’t been so…” He hesitated, searching for the word. “Public.”

“I know the feeling,” she murmured, sending him a meaningful stare through the looking glass.

“I guess you do,” he acknowledged faintly. Now that the floodgates were open, honesty flourished from him. “I was already the embarrassment of my family. The bride not showing up certainly didn’t improve my reputation.”

Confusion filled her. “Embarrassment? Why’s that?”

“Ah, the curse of being the second son. My older brother is the golden boy. Always has been, always will be.”

As an only child, Mia didn’t understand sibling dynamics firsthand, but she could imagine how easily tension could arise if one constantly exceeded expectations. In fact, she wagered that if she had had a sibling, they likely would’ve hated her guts.

Although an apparently tense topic for him, she was hungry to uncover more. “What’s your brother do?”

“Does he own his own business like yours truly? Sure doesn’t. He works at the Daymont Yacht Club like every single member of my family has since the place first opened eight hundred million years ago. Buthe worked his way up,” he recited in an unmistakable imitation of his family members. “Started as a dockhand in high school, and now he’s Director of Waterfront Operations. La dee fucking da.”

“Not that you’re bitter or anything.”

“No, of course not.”

The immediate agreement was so comical that she snickered, and even Travis permitted a laugh. Shaking his head, he focused on his beer and inhaled deeply. Compassion twinged her chest as the truth behind his personality dawned. His roguish attitude was a product of his upbringing, of always being in the shadow of another person. He’d learned at a young age that acting up guaranteed attention—even if it wasn’t the positive kind—and that conditioning followed him into adulthood.

“The same day I closed the deal with Cole to take over the roofing business was the day Thomas was promoted to director.” The confession was soft, as if he’d never spoken this truth to anyone before. “And who do you think was celebrated that night?”

“I’m sorry,” she offered in a whisper.

He wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed it onto the bar with a shrug. “Yeah. Well, you know what they say. You can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your family.”

The walls were back up, and Mia knew better than to continue pushing. “How eloquent.”

With a suggestive stare, Travis leaned in closer. “Oh, you have no idea how eloquent I can be.”

“Can you stop being a pervert for two seconds?”

“Not where you’re concerned, baby.”

Such a cheesy endearment should’ve made her balk in horror.Babywas an effortless pet name—smarmy and disingenuous if uttered by the wrong person. Travis, however, was exactly the right man to bestow such a term of affection. Her nipples tightened into hard peaks and arousal pooled between her legs, and she decided then and there that she’d takebabyovermaestroany day of the week.

But her competitiveness reemerged, with a determination to give as good as she got. Placing her index finger in her mouth, she sucked the dry rub seasoning from her skin, keeping her gaze on him the entire time. His icicle eyes flashed with lust at the brazen display.

The finger left her mouth with apop, and she smiled innocently. “Delicious.”

“Evil,” he whispered, drawing the word out for emphasis.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Dee muttered at the other end of the bar.

Try as they might to squash their laughter, a fit of giggles commenced. Sure, they were full-blown adults, but being with Travis made her feel no different from a carefree teenager. Even still, Mia couldn’t justify more finger licking, so she stepped off the stool for a bathroom break.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he agreed, motioning for her to go first. “You want another beer?”

“Sure. And a water too.”

She headed to the restroom with an extra pep in her step. While washing her hands, the cold water against her red-hotskin a welcome reprieve, she glanced at herself in the mirror. A heap of warm-brown curls framed a face brimming with reckless delirium, hazel eyes that were once hollow now shined with zest, and a healthy pink flush tinted her normally pale skin.

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