Page 20 of Beyond Question

He chuckles. “No, but I do need to get my car.”

My smile falls and I lift my head to look at him. “You’re kidding.”

Travis shrugs, and I’m at a loss for words.

The man left his car in Whitestone to ride back into the city with me. I shouldn’t be flattered by this, but tell that to my foolish heart—the one that feels remarkably warmer now and beats a bit faster than it did a moment ago.

“Do you have dinner plans tomorrow?” He chuckles as he drags a hand through his mop of dirty-blond waves, then adds, “Well,tonight, I guess. Since it’s morning.”

My shoulders deflate as I sigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Not this again.”

“Travis—”

He steps toward me, but when I stiffen, he stops, then slides his hands into his pockets. “What are you afraid of?”

I make a sound that isn’t the least bit ladylike and some might call a guffaw, then quickly close my mouth. If he only knew what I was afraid of.

But there it is.

The bottom line.

If he knew, he would want nothing to do with me.

No one would.

“Just dinner,” he tries.

I shake my head.

“Drinks, then?”

“Travis,” I say on a heavy sigh.

“You can’t tell me there isn’t something here, Paige.” He motions between us. “I’m not imagining it.”

I swallow hard, hating how right he is, but hating even more that I have to pretend he’s wrong.

“Don’t do it,” Travis murmurs. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine. There’s something here.” I square my shoulders, then drop my gaze to my phone and order a car. “But that doesn’t mean I want there to be.”

“Why not?” His voice has risen in pitch and volume, and there’s a crease between his brows. “What are you running from?”

The question makes my mouth fall open but I quickly recover. “I’m not—”

“Are you married or something?”

“Oh, god no.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m too old for you,” I say. The beautiful blonde at GILD was proof of that, all of twenty-five years old. My own daughter is likely older than her, and that tells me all I need to know about the kind of women Travis dates.

“Jesus.” He shakes his head as a bitter laugh slips past his lips. “That’s bullshit and you know it. What are you, like, forty-five?”

“Forty-nine, Travis, and you’re—”

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