Page 123 of The Lair

So why is my heart constricting now—and not in an uncomfortable way—as I look at the skyline of the place that has taken so much from me?

“Everything okay?” Travis’s heat seeps into my skin as he places a hand on the small of my back.

I lean into his touch. “It’s stunning, isn’t it?”

If I’d been looking at him, I would’ve noticed his eyes on me as he says, “Beautiful.”

My throat is so dry, I have to swallow. “Why don’t I hate it anymore?”

“The city?”

I nod, finding that speaking about this is easier than I’d ever expected. “I told myself I’d never come back, but here I am. I don’t want to stay here for the rest of my life, but I also don’t… I don’t want to run away like I used to.”

He pulls me closer until my forehead is pressed against his chest and I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of him. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he mutters against the top of my hair. “I’m proud of you for feeling that way. You know what it means?”

I’m starting to, but I want his perspective. “What?”

“Growth.” One simple word. One simple truth. “You’re not letting them take your joy away anymore.”

I’m grateful he sees it that way because I do too.

His stomach chooses that moment to rumble, and I pull away, chuckling. “Someone’s hungry.”

Is that a blush on his cheeks?

With a half-amused, half-embarrassed shake of his head, he intertwines his fingers with mine. “Come on. Let’s find a spot.”

With my heart frantically beating inside my rib cage becauseTravis and I are holding hands, I don’t notice the picnic blanket in his other hand until we stop on the manicured lawns in front of the observatory.

He only lets go of my hand to lay the picnic blanket on the grass, and then he takes it again to help me sit down. As we get out all the takeout containers and arrange them on the blanket, I get a comforting sense of privacy despite us not being alone in the gardens. No, not privacy—intimacy.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me on a picnic,” I tell him with a smile once we start opening the delicious-smelling containers.

“Maybe I should’ve asked first,” he muses out loud.

“Hey.” I cover his hand with mine, stopping that train of thought. “I’ve never been on a picnic before, so this is perfect. Itrust you, Travis. And you have great taste, you know? This place is amazing.”

He visibly relaxes, turning our hands around so he’s holding mine. It’s that subtle act of dominance that makes my lower area tingle, a foreign sensation that’s not unwelcome.

“I do have great taste. I hired you after all, didn’t I?” he teases.

We let go of each other’s hands so I can open a container with spring rolls, my mouth salivating. “You know, I’ve always wondered why you hired me in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He grunts. “I had a gut feeling.”

“A gut feeling, huh?” I tease him right back as I take a bite. It takes everything in me not to moan. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Glad you like it.” His smile is small but genuine before he dives into one himself. “I don’t know what else to call it. I didn’t like you that much at first.”

I gape at him. “Excuse me?”

His low chuckle makes it impossible for me to even stay fake mad at him. “Wasn’t personal. I don’t like anyone at first.”

“So what did that gut feeling tell you about me?”

He takes his time to chew and swallow before speaking again. “I don’t exactly know. I’m not great at identifying my feelings. Takes me a while. I suspected you’d be a good worker, and I was right.”

I plop a sweet-and-sour shrimp into my mouth. “You keep saying that you’re not good with feelings.”

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