Page 12 of Second Chance Baby

At a loss, I went.

I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to apologize. To tell her I wasn’t going to just duck and run.

But in the end, that was exactly what I did.

I climbed out of bed, quickly diverting my gaze from the tangled sheets to the few clothes tossed around us. I hadn’t lost anything other than my jean jacket, and she’d pushed my shirt off my shoulders. That was all.

I’d had more finesse as a damn teen.

Luckily, she didn’t call me on it. Just snatched up my denim jacket and pulled it on over her dress, tugging the sides together to do up the buttons before she fumbled on her heels. But she didn’t wait for me to split. Instead, she did the honors, rushing to the door and then through it before I had even a moment to gather my thoughts.

Just as well, because I didn’t really have any. The rapid-fire orgasm had left my mind blissfully blank.

For however long that lasted.

I grabbed my wallet off the floor where it had somehow fallen, as had my keys. Then I hauled ass out of the room and down the grand sweeping staircase, not making eye contact with anyone as I aimed for the glass doors. I didn’t look anywhere but at my cowboy boots—why the hell had I chosen them today, anyway— as I aimed for my truck parked against the curb up the block.

The instant I was inside it, I blasted some random rock station and got the hell out of Dodge at a speed not anywhere appropriate for the Cove, especially considering the police station was right nearby.

And so was my fucking pain in the ass older brother, who assumed just now would be a fine time to pull me over.

To mess with him, I ignored his lights and sirens. I also didn’t cut my speed as I just freaking kept going in the direction of Turnbull, letting him sit on my bumper if he wanted to waste some time today. I was way too early to pick up Carrington, after all, so might as well get myself a ticket so I could donate to the town budget.

Why the hell not?

Finally, I slowed up some. Not because I was scared of Christian. Also, not because I had any hope of avoiding a ticket. I knew my brother. He’d never let me go if he could make an example out of me. And he was probably even right in this case.

After another mile or two, I blew out a breath and signaled as I veered over to the side of the road. I got out my license and registration so I could shove them his way when he appeared at my door, glowering silently.

“Thank you,” he said in a clipped voice, making a show of checking both. “Do you know how fast you were going, Travis?”

“Yep.” I gripped the wheel unrepentantly.

“Do you know you didn’t signal before you pulled out of your parking space?”

“Also, yep.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Just give me my fucking ticket, okay?”

He slapped his ticket book against his hand, and then he cocked his head, staring down at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I just felt like speeding and not signaling and now I feel like getting my ticket for same. So, out with it. Skip the lecture.”

Instead of lecturing, he just repeated his question softly. “What’s wrong, Trav?”

I blew out a breath as I leaned back against the headrest. “I slept with Bridget.”

His jaw locked as he removed his aviators long enough for me to see the wide flare of his pupils. “Bridget who?”

“You know Bridget who. My ex. Carrington’s mother.” I gripped the wheel hard enough for the leather wrap around the wheel to crack—or maybe that was just my imagination. The move certainly fit my now dark mood.

So much for my freaking blissfully blank mind. Gone like the dang wind.

Gone like my ex.Again.

Did I not have any sense? A guy had to wonder.

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