Page 72 of The Lair

I hold my breath.

Travis shakes his head and drops his gaze. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with me or think it’s weird, but I’m not gonna let you deal with this alone. If you wanna stay at the hotel, let me pay for it.”

At this point, the one butterfly I allowed in my stomach has multiplied so dramatically, there’s no point in trying to count them anymore or tell them to go away—not when Travis opens his mouth and says things like that.

For my own sake, what I should do is thank him again and insist that he doesn’t have to offer me a room at his place or pay for my hotel room. In a perfect world, I would be too scared to get closer to Travis and risk him noticing my feelings for him or asking more questions about my past.

But then I remember something else, something that weighs more than all those worries combined.

The night he spent at my apartment, awake just in case something happened, was the safest I’ve felt since I left California. And even in my parents’ house, I would still be on edge after what happened with Claudia. They’d gotten arrested, but what if someone else came to finish the job? With how many pictures of the outside of our house my parents posted online, finding our address was child’s play.

Maybe it’s his size, his intimidating presence, or his military past—or all of it—but if I had to trust someone, just one person in the entire world to keep me safe, it would be him. Without a doubt, it would be Travis.

So would it really be that bad to stay at his farmhouse for a few days or weeks, until I can find my own place?

“Are you a hundred percent sure about me moving in?” I ask him carefully.

“Yes.”

“A thousand percent?”

“Yes.”

“A million percent?”

I finally get that grunt. “Allie.”

“Promise me you won’t kill me or sell my organs?”

If I had the slightest, tiniest doubt that Travis would hurt me, I would’ve kicked him out the second he knocked at my door the other day. Heck, I wouldn’t be working here in the first place. He must know I’m only joking.

I’m not disappointed by his answer. “Your organs are safe with me. You promise your stubbornness won’t kill me?”

“I don’t think I can. My stubbornness is pretty deadly.”

The fake-tired sigh he lets out next makes me smile. “You can move out of my place whenever you want to,” he adds.

I appreciate his reassurance more than he’d ever know. “I’d like to see your house first, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Does tomorrow morning work for you?”

“Tomorrow? As in, Christmas morning?”

“My uncle has plans with his friends, and mine won’t be angry if I miss lunch. We can be done before then anyway.”

Right. It makes sense. “Okay.”

I stare at the small key between my hands, the key to my freaking boss’s house. When I woke up this morning, this waspretty much the last thing I expected to happen today, but I can’t find it in me to complain.

“Keep it,” that gravelly voice says as he gestures to the key with his chin. “If you like the house, I’ll help you move all your stuff.”

I’m not stupid enough to turn down his help, even if I don’t have many belongings anyway. But I’m stupid enough to have his words echo inside my head for the rest of the night.

Because I want you to be safe at all times, goddammit. If anything happened to you…

I might not survive moving in with Travis Ward after all.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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