Page 61 of Country Music Cowboy
“I think it’s more than that.” Emmy Lou put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, watching him. “I think you might be sweet on Loretta Gram.”
Travis shoveled a massive bite into his mouth. Sweet on her?No comment.
“This reminds me… It wasn’t all that long ago we were having a similar conversation about you and Jace.” Emmy Lou laughed. “I think there was pie involved then too.”
Krystal nodded. “And if I’d listened to you instead of acting like you were wrong, think about all the time and energy I’d have saved everyone.”
Travis almost choked on his pie. When Krystal dug in her heels, there was no changing her mind. The more you tried to push her, the harder she pushed back. And everyone sitting around the table had firsthand experience with her stubborn streak.
Her green eyes swiveled his way, narrowing in irritation. “From the look on your face, I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.” One brow rose. “But if you want to be a stubborn ass and repeat the pile of poo you served up last time, fine. Ignore your sisters and how all they want is for you to be happy.”
“Will do.” Travis nodded.
His sisters’ disappointed sighs were in unison, so were the little frowns and the slight pucker between their brows. Even Sawyer laughed then—for a whole five seconds.
Conversation drifted from tomorrow’s long agenda to the upcoming tour schedule and then from Emmy Lou’s assurances that Momma was not bringing a date to her concerns over tension between their parents to her repeated nightmare that one of her guests was allergic to shellfish, sat too close to someone eating the lobster, and dropped dead before the cake cutting.
“That’s a very specific allergy-related death dream.” Travis gave up the fight and started laughing.
It was almost two when they cleaned up the kitchen and went their separate ways.
He’d never say so out loud, but he liked having his sisters home. He’d missed their kitchen counseling sessions. That’s what Gramma had called it. Working through the world’s problems while cooking dinner—or eating it?Probably why we spend so much time in the kitchen.Their family was never short on problems.
He was headed to his room when the jingle of Clementine’s collar stopped him. The light from the hall dimly illuminated the interior of the music room—enough that he spied Loretta curled up on the couch with Clem sprawled across her. But once Clementine saw him, she hopped off the couch, ran around him in a circle, and trotted down the hall toward the doggy door in the kitchen.
Loretta jerked awake. “Travis?” Her voice was thick with sleep and sexy as hell.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” If he were smart, he’d say goodnight and head to his room. He didn’t.Dumbass.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She yawned, pushing herself off the couch and crossing the room to where he stood. “What time is it?”
“Late.” His voice was more gravelly than normal. He swallowed. “Too late to be up and about.”
She stared up at him, looking more and more awake with each passing second.
“Pie,” he said, doing his damndest not to stare at her mouth or reach up to smooth her hair. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to tease through text.”
Her eyes widened. “You were teasing?”
Yes. No.He sighed. He’d told her he’d never lie. Sure, lying would save face and be an easy out but…it was still a lie. “No.”
She frowned.
“You want me to lie?” He shook his head. “It’d be a hell of a lot less humiliating to say I was teasing.”
“Why are you humiliated?” Her frown grew.
“Rejection’s never fun, Loretta.” He held his hands up. “But I—”
“We agreed one night.” Her voice wavered. “Any more is like…like playing with fire. Fire’s not something you can control, Travis.”
He swallowed, instantly understanding. She was scared to give in to this. Scared that what was between them would be out of control.
“I need control.” She shook her head. “I’m not a risk-taker.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“No.” She stepped forward, running her hands up his chest. “It’s not okay. This timeisit.” Her breathing changed, going husky. “We have to agree. Just this. One more night.”
