Page 5 of Beyond Question

I raise an eyebrow. “First time?”

“You think?”

The bartender begins making Travis his Old Fashioned, and while I watch him work, Travis watches me.

My pulse beats unsteadily as my skin begins to tingle with that feeling of being watched, and my chest warms because ofwhois doing the watching. I gaze past the bartender to the water of the East River, trying to focus on anything but the way it feels to be assessed by Travis Wilder.

“Imagine having to attend one of these without alcohol,” I say to break the silence.

Travis gasps dramatically. “Cabot wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You’d be surprised.” I laugh, then turn toward him, meeting that pale green gaze head on. “When Mama can’t drink, no one can drink.”

He frowns. “Sounds awful. How many of these things have you been to?”

“Oh, too many to count.” I laugh, thinking back to how many baby showers I’ve attended over the years—most of which didn’t have a bar, gourmet catering, expensive macarons, or a view of the river. Most of them were also for coworkers or publishing associates, like this one, as I’ve intentionally kept my circle small. “This is definitely one of the better ones.”

“Because I’m here?”

I snort. “No, Travis. Becauseheis.” I motion to the bartender and try to ignore Travis’ playful pout—or the fact that yes, his presence does have something to do with why I’m enjoying myself right now.

Even though it absolutely should not.

Chapter Three

Paige

Travis Wilder is many things. Intelligent. Cocky.

Drop-dead gorgeous.

He’s the kind of man I’ve worked a lifetime to stay away from.

He is also damn near as competitive as I am, terrible when it comes to word scrambles, and even less competent when it comes to memorizing baby items in a basket—although, in his defense, that was mainly because he doesn’t know what most of them are called.

And though our competitive natures might be similar, I can’t imagine we have much else in common.

Yet I haven’t had this much fun in years.

I’m not exactly sure what came over me earlier when I challenged him in that game, but I’m pretty sure I was flirting? (It’s been a long time since I even bothered, so I could’ve gotten it wrong.)

Since that first game, though, my competitive streak collided with his to create a spirited rivalry we’ve been enjoying ever since. As afternoon stretched into early evening, we teased each other, battled one another—or teamed up together to battle others—in a handful of silly games, and laughed more than I have in ages. I generally detest shower games and team-building activities of any sort, but I’m actually havingfunwith him.

I know, I know. I’m as shocked as anybody.

Even more shocking, however, is that there is something more than rivalry building between us, something enticing. It electrifies my veins with every lingering look he gives me, sparksin the air between us, and continues to draw us toward one another with every minute that passes. I’d initially promised Rylan I’d stop by, but my quick pop-in has morphed into hours.

It’s the last game of the day and I should be pleased about that fact, but I find myself disappointed that I’ll soon have no excuse to stick around.

Unless, that is, I admit towantingto linger.

Which isn’t going to happen.

Travis and I stand across the table from one another now, sucking on ice cubes with tiny plastic babies inside, and as his mouth works the ice to try melting it faster than anyone else competing with us, his pale green eyes hold mine.

Suffice to say, the ice isn’t the only thing melting.

But I can’t possiblymeltfor a man like Travis Wilder. He represents everything I’ve tried to avoid for the better half of my lifetime. (Old money and nepotism at the top of the list.) But he’s been playful and flirtatious all afternoon, and if I am honest with myself, the attention feels absolutely incredible.

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