9. CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
brENDEN
In the morning, I wake up alone in my bed.
Which is exactly how I’m used to waking up, of course.
But after a few groggy seconds, I remember that Travis slept here with me last night, and I try not to be annoyed at him for leaving without saying goodbye.
Maybe I’m expecting too much from him, but if Elise and Grant didn’t get to see him this morning, then what was the point of him staying the night?
Other than to get me all confused and flustered and mildly horny.
Aw, crap on toast.
It suddenly dawns on me that maybe he left because I pushed it too far by kissing him last night.
I probably freaked him out.
(Even more than I freaked myself out with how much I liked kissing him.
) He agreed to it, but I’m beginning to wonder if Travis would agree to anything I ask of him.
That doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it.
As I head downstairs, mentally planning my apology and assurances that he’ll never have to suffer through kissing me again, I hear the familiar music of a Skyler James song.
May must be playing it somewhere.
Following the music, I find myself in the kitchen and then stop dead, taking in an entirely unfamiliar sight.
May is standing at the counter, lavender hair thrown up in a messy bun, swaying her hips and bopping her shoulders along to the upbeat song.
This wouldn’t be strange, were it not for the fact that while she’s bopping, she’s also using a wooden spoon to stir something inside a large mixing bowl.
My daughter takes after me in that she doesn’t cook, so I have no idea what she’s doing.
But that’s not even the strangest part.
Nope.
The strangest part is the sight of Travis Reed in my kitchen standing right beside May, chopping up vegetables on a cutting board.
I could be mistaken, but I think I catch his shoulders getting in on the bopping action for a couple seconds too.
Does.
Not.
Compute.
May uses her free hand to reach for the mug of coffee next to her and takes a large gulp from it, which is pretty much the only thing that makes sense to me about this picture.
As she sets the mug down, she notices me and smiles brightly.
“Hey, Dad! Wanna help?”
“Help?”
“We’re making breakfast.”
“You don’t know how to cook.”
She rolls her eyes in a spectacularly dramatic fashion.
“Well, okay, I’m just stirring the pancake batter like Travis told me to.”
“Which is more than I’d trust you to do,” Travis says to me, turning around.
And I feel suddenly unsteady on my feet, because he’s smiling.
Smiling.
It’s not that he never smiles.
It’s just.
.
.
he doesn’t smile here , in my kitchen first thing in the morning, standing beside my daughter while listening to pop music.
“I think I need a fainting couch,” I unfortunately utter out loud.
“A what?” May asks.
Ugh, now I feel old.
“Never mind. Is there coffee for me?”
That gets me another teenage girl eyeroll and a response of, “Duh, I didn’t drink the whole pot.”
“You act like that’s an impossibility.”
May might not be quite as addicted to caffeine as I am—thankfully—but she’s working on it.
I squeeze past Travis to get to the coffee maker and pour myself a cup, then step back and eye the two of them again.
“So is anyone going to tell me what’s going on here?”
“I did ,” May insists.
“She really did,” Travis adds.
Great, now they’re ganging up on me.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I say, “You, hush.” Then I shake my head.
“Actually, no. Talk. Because there’s no way I had all this stuff in my fridge.”
“By ‘stuff’ do you mean the ingredients to make a proper meal?” he asks.
“Yes, exactly. I mean, what is this?” I go to pick up a handful of spinach leaves he’s set to the side, but he swats my hand away.
“I’ve never seen it before. Are you sure it’s edible?”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
I fight to keep a straight face.
He holds my eye contact for a few moments, then goes back to what he was doing before I interrupted.
“I had to wake up super early to open the diner, so I grabbed all this from there because I figured, correctly, that you’d have nothing. I snuck back in before anyone else was awake.”
Damn.
Now I feel bad that he had to go to the diner but still came back here.
He must be exhausted.
Though I suppose he’s used to the early hours.
You wouldn’t find me dead getting up that early for work.
Or I guess you would, because if I had to do that, it would kill me.
After taking a much-needed gulp of coffee, I tell him, “You didn’t have to cook for us.”
“I think I’ve heard it’s what boyfriends do,” he says dryly.
Then his face cracks into a smile.
“Elise and Grant are having their tea and coffee out on the porch, but we can all eat together before I need to get back to work. You took today off, right?”
“Mmhmm,” I confirm, leaning around him to ogle the food.
“If you’re making pancakes, what’s with the veggies?”
Again, he swats my hand away as I go to snag a small piece of red pepper.
That’s what I get for wanting a vegetable.
“I’m making omelets too. I knew you and May would be happy with pancakes, but I figured her grandparents might appreciate something healthier.”
“You figured right.”
“I also realized I didn’t have a change of clothes,” he says, “so I changed at home, and this way it’ll look like I keep clothes here.”
“Can I stop stirring now?” May whines.
“I think I’m getting carpal tunnel.”
Travis laughs.
“You’re as bad as your dad.”
“Thank you,” she says proudly, and I beam at her.
“Can I do anything?” I ask Travis.
Though I’ll admit, I’m relieved when he shakes his head.
Spinning around, he offers me a whole strip of pepper.
“Just sit down and look pretty.”
His eyes are playful, and I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see him this way.
Less grumpy, more carefree.
I accept the veggie, giving him a shove for good measure, then munch on it while I sit and watch him cook.
I watch him teach May how to pour the pancake batter and add the blueberries and when to flip them.
He looks comfortable in my kitchen.
I don’t know how he knows his way around it so well, but it’s like he’s been cooking meals here for years.
It would be easy for me to start imagining that he really is my boyfriend.
And that is a very dangerous thing.
Walking through town with May and her grandparents, I’m hyper-aware of my phone in my pocket.
Every time it jostles against my thigh, I jump, thinking for a second that I’m getting a call.
Then I reassure myself that Danny and Addison have everything under control at the inn.
Today is the last day of the retreat, and I desperately want to be there, but I figured Elise and Grant wouldn’t appreciate me working on their first day in town.
At least the retreat schedule is pretty light today, as the group will be leaving late afternoon.
Spending the day with Elise and Grant, though, poses another challenge for me, because I have to feed them.
Normally, I would’ve just taken them for lunch at the inn, but there’s no way I’m going to distract Addison and add to her workload by making her cook for us today.
When I explained how busy the inn would be, Elise immediately jumped in with the suggestion of having lunch at the diner.
And before I could come up with a plausible reason to keep them away from there, May enthusiastically agreed.
The little traitor.
I think she’s enjoying seeing me and Travis squirm as we navigate this fake relationship.
All I can do to minimize the potential damage that might come from me and Travis having to put on a show in public—where other people in town could witness it, and either find out about him or blow our cover—is stall in getting there.
I figure if we go for a very late lunch, during a typical lull, there shouldn’t be too many other customers.
So I’ve made sure to take a meandering path around town on the way to the diner, under the guise of giving a town tour.
As if Elise and Grant haven’t been here before.
And also, as if they even give a crap about Mayweather.
“Hi, Barbara!” I call out, pausing as we walk by the elderly woman’s pastel green house.
Yes, I’m still stalling.
But I also genuinely like her.
She’s sitting on her porch in a rocking chair, but she stands (very slowly) to greet me.
“Brenden, dear! How are you?”
“I’m great!” Lie.
“How are you?”
“Oh, you know,” she says, shrugging one bony shoulder.
“Same old, same old. That’s how it is when you get to be my age.”
I wave my hand at her with a smile.
“Nonsense. You’ve still got plenty of excitement in your life. Have you finished your cats in outer space puzzle?”
Grant chortles behind me, but I ignore him.
Barbara’s face lights up.
“Yes, a few days ago! Thanks for asking! I’m working on one with a bunch of cowboys now.”
“Shirtless cowboys?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows playfully.
“You know it.”
“You’ll have to take a picture for me when you finish it,” I tell her.
“I will,” she says happily.
“Thank you for stopping to chat! You’re so sweet.”
As we move on, Elise asks me, “Was that a friend of yours?”
“She’s just someone I like to talk to.”
May squeezes my forearm as she walks beside me.
“Dad’s friendly with everyone in town. Everyone loves him.”
“I can see why,” Elise says, and I can’t help but preen a little.
Though I’m not sure how sincere she’s being.
When we reach the town square, I do a lap around it, rather than heading straight to Reed’s.
Most of the storefronts have flowerboxes outside, which are filled with spring blooms that add pops of color to the street.
Several people stop us to say hello, and I introduce them all to May’s grandparents.
Elise does seem delighted at how friendly everyone is here, but Grant’s face remains impassive the whole time.
Once we’re standing in front of the diner, I know I can’t stall any longer, so I turn to Elise and Grant.
“All right, we’re here. Just please, let’s all remember that Travis is working. I don’t want to bother him too much. We like to keep our private and professional lives separate.”
That’s totally bullshit.
Because for one thing, we’re not really dating, and for another, if we were dating, that would be pretty much impossible in a town like this.
But Grant nods like he appreciates the concept.
Elise smiles.
“I promise we won’t embarrass you.”
The comment makes me pause.
It sounds like something a parent would say to a teenager.
And it has me thinking painfully of my own parents, and of Elise and Grant with April, and.
.
.
Well, it makes me wonder if there’s any reality in which these two could see me like a son.
But I shake all that off, because there’s no use dwelling on people who are gone or things that are nearly impossible.
Hand on the door handle, I plaster on a smile and fake some confidence that this is all going to go fine.
However, as soon as I step inside and lay eyes on Travis, I freeze, causing May to bump into my back.
“What the heck, Dad, move,” she urges, shoving me forward.
I wave awkwardly at Travis, then lead my group to an empty table.
Luckily, my stalling paid off, and there’s only a scattering of other customers in here.
May gives me a weird look as she takes a chair beside me, but I ignore it.
Because no, I don’t know why I malfunctioned like that.
Travis is wearing the same thing he wore at my house this morning—his typical jeans, black tee, flannel shirt outfit that he wears practically every day.
Yet for some reason, I was overwhelmed just now by the sight of his total hotness.
Maybe it’s because I kissed him.
Which, yes, okay , I’m still realizing was possibly not the best idea.
But how was I supposed to know one innocent kiss was going to be so good that it would affect me like this?
While we were at my house, pretending to be a couple, we were sort of in this fantasy-type bubble.
One where Travis wasn’t exactly Travis, my friend, the grumpy guy who owns the diner.
Now here inside Reed’s, it’s back to reality.
And the reality is that I kissed my friend, and I really liked it.
Shit, I just hope I can be normal around him again once this charade is over.
“Hey,” he greets us, coming over and passing out menus.
“I’m glad you all stopped by.”
When he sets his hand on the top of my chair, his knuckles brush against my upper back and I malfunction again, letting out a noise that sounds something like, “ Glumph. ”
He shoots me a concerned look, and May brings her hand up to her mouth, probably to cover an amused expression.
“Are you okay?” Grant asks.
I nod vigorously.
“Yeah. Sorry. Had something in my throat.”
Travis is still looking at me like he can’t decide if I need the Heimlich or a mental wellness check.
Guess Elise didn’t need to worry about embarrassing me.
Nope, I can do that just fine on my own, thank you.
“Hey, Grandma,” May says, drawing everyone’s attention from me.
The sweet angel.
I take back calling her a traitor.
“There are a couple salads on the menu that I think you’d like. They’re really good.”
“How would you know?” I ask.
“You don’t eat salad.”
“No, you don’t eat salad. But I do sometimes, when you’re not around asking if I want a burger.”
Clutching a hand to my heart and laying on the theatrics, I tell her, “I’m so disappointed in you.”
Elise and Grant look appalled at this, but before either of them can comment on how horrible of a parent I am, Travis jumps in with, “He’s kidding.”
“Yeah, totally kidding,” I confirm.
They really don’t get my sense of humor.
“Anyway, can I grab everyone something to drink?” Travis offers, gracefully moving us all along.
For which I’m so grateful, I could kiss him.
Or not kiss him.
It’s not like I want to kiss him.
Whatever.
He’s quick to get a cup of coffee in front of me, which helps me chill out somewhat, so that I make it through lunch without blowing the fake dating cover.
Or blowing Travis’s cover to anyone.
And I swear I don’t think about blowing Travis at all.
Okay, maybe just once, when I turned my head to find him standing beside me with his crotch practically at mouth level.
I mean, seriously.
I eat at these damn tables in this diner all the time, and I’ve never noticed this phenomenon before.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was purposefully fucking with me.
But no.
Pretty sure I’ve fucked with myself by coming up with this hare-brained scheme.
How am I supposed to make it through Elise and Grant’s trip pretending to date this man without doing something stupid and disastrous like throwing myself at him?
He’s my friend , I remind myself firmly.
He’s my friend, and I want him to stay my friend.
I don’t want him like that.
This whole pretending thing is just making everything confusing.
But it’ll be fine.
I’ll get myself together.
At least, I’d better.
And I’d better do it fast.