Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
As my tired feet drag me inside the grocery store on my morning off, I keep wondering if what happened last night was only a fever dream. A butterfly-inducing one, but febrile nonetheless.
I’ve never been an overly cuddly person, but there is a difference between being clingy and not having been hugged in months—the last hug I got was from Jada, nearly a year ago. If my body reacted that way to Travis’s hand on my elbow, it must be because I’m touch starved.
I grab some orange juice on my way to the hair products aisle and decide the world won’t end if I allow some honesty into my system just for one second.
Okay, maybe five.
Five seconds, and I’ll stop thinking about my crush on Travis forever.
The feel of his big, warm body so close to mine.
The hard muscles on his arms that I may or may not have daydreamed about touching a couple of times since I’ve known him. (I only want to poke them a little to see if they’re real because there’s simply no way they can be so huge.)
Five seconds are up.
The grip of that massive but surprisingly gentle hand on my elbow.
How he positioned himself in front of me in a protective gesture, his body a shield.
Stop it.
The woodsy smell of his cologne.
How invincible it made me feel to have him by my side.
What am I doing?
I can’t be attracted to Travis. Not to the point where I’m unable to stop my thoughts from spiraling.
Falling for my boss is inconvenient enough, but falling for my much-older boss who doesn’t give two craps about me outside of the workplace? That’s bad .
Which means this…attraction or whatever the hell I feel for Travis needs to stop now .
If I had the tiniest of chances with him, maybe I would throw caution to the wind—but I don’t. I know where we stand, and it’s okay. He will never set his sights on a woman more than a decade younger than him, and my past is too heavy of a secret burden to ignore.
This is the path I chose for myself, the sacrifices I decided to make, the lies I chose to tell. I made my own bed, and I will lie in it.
Shutting down my intrusive thoughts, I grab two packs of hair dye and head for the register. Only I don’t make it that far.
Something—someone—catches my eye in one of the aisles. Like a puppet on a string, I turn in the direction of the last person I expected or needed to see on my morning off.
Travis hasn’t spotted me yet, but I have no doubts I only have a seconds-long advantage before he does. He’s scratching his beard as he ponders something in front of…
The toy aisle?
Why is Travis looking at children’s toys?
He has a whole cart full of them behind him. A mix of pinks and blues, yellows and greens, and holy crap . There must be at least twenty different things inside that cart.
My mind scans for the piece of information I must be missing, but I come up empty-handed. Travis doesn’t have children; it would have come up in the year I’ve been working for him.
And I distinctly remember—for reasons that are neither here nor there—Uncle Neil saying how he was still waiting for grandkids. Or grandnieces and grandnephews, technically. So no, Travis isn’t a dad. I would know.
I also remember he’s an only child, so maybe all those toys are for his friends’ kids? But so many? Christmas is only three weeks away, yet…
As I remind myself that whatever he spends his money on is none of my business and that it’s not socially acceptable to blatantly stare at people, his head turns in my direction.
Shit .
I try to hide the two boxes of hair dye behind my back, but I’m too slow. His gaze shifts from my hands to my face, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
Before I know what I’m doing, and because it would look weird if I just ran away, I give him a tight-lipped smile and move closer to him. Enough for him to hear me when I say, “Morning, boss man. Doing some shopping?”
The tension in the corners of his mouth catches my eye, and so do those wide shoulders clad in the same flannel shirt he was wearing when we met.
His head tilts just barely, a small nod of acknowledgment that feels too much like a dismissal. “Allie.”
And that’s it. No “How are you doing?” No “How’s your shopping trip going?” No nothing.
Fair enough. He doesn’t owe me a thing outside of the bar.
That realization doesn’t make the stinging sensation go away, though.
“I’ll see you around,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t come out too awkward. I think I fail.
He’s seen my hair dye, and I’ve seen his toys, but neither of us brings it up. We don’t acknowledge the reasons why my hair color might not be natural or why he needs to give gifts to so many children. To be fair, I don’t think I have the right to ask.
I give him a smile I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes, and he only nods again.
When I said he isn’t big on wasting saliva, I really meant it. There’s no reason for me to be upset that he doesn’t look too enthusiastic about bumping into me.
So why does Travis ignoring me outside of The Lair, like I don’t even exist when I’m off the clock, hurt my heart so damn much?
The next day, my foot is barely out of the changing room after our shift ends when Charlie declares, “This might be my best idea yet.”
To nobody’s surprise, Travis doesn’t entertain him. “Did you check if the back door was locked?”
“Yes, boss. It is locked.”
“Good.”
“About my idea,” Charlie insists, unfazed by our boss’s dismissal. He sets his gaze on me, then on Jude and Sandra, who have just left the kitchen for the night. “Two words: Secret Santa.”
Someone groans. I think it’s Jude.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. We can set a budget of, like, fifteen dollars. We don’t have to make super meaningful gifts or anything,” he keeps going. “Honestly, I’d be happy with some cookies.”
“Aw.” That’s Sandra. “What a sweet idea, Charlie. It sounds fun. Count me in.”
He lets out a victorious cry. “Jude? Your wife is all for it, so that means you have to agree.”
“Whatever,” he mutters. Sandra hooks an arm around his and plants a loud kiss on his cheek, which makes me smile. When she notices me looking at them, she winks.
“You’re weak, Jude,” I tease him.
He shrugs. “Can’t deny it.”
When I look away from them, I find Charlie pretty much in my face. “Allie Cat? You have to say yes.”
I arch an amused eyebrow. “ Have to?”
“It’s the law. You don’t want the authorities to come knocking at your door, do you?”
I know he’s only teasing. I know this, but his words make the air whoosh out of my lungs all the same. My throat works a heavy swallow, and I barely notice the tightness in Travis’s voice as he says, “Back off, Charlie.”
“Sorry.” He gives me a pleading look. “Say yes?”
I can’t even think straight right now. I think I mutter, “Okay.”
I take a deep breath through my nose, telling my brain that we’re safe. Nobody is coming after me—Jada and Paul checked. They would tell me if something was up.
Charlie moves on to his last victim. “Boss? Everyone said yes, so you can’t be the only one not playing.”
Travis isn’t one to succumb to peer pressure. “I’m not playing.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“With a cherry on top?”
Charlie’s playful smile is making Travis’s cheek tick, so I jump in. “Come on, Travis. It could be fun.”
His eyes narrow on me, but I don’t back down. He might be the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen, but I’m so determined to get him to play Secret Santa, it’s as if my life depends on it. He needs to let loose, and maybe…
Okay. Maybe I’d love to buy something for him.
I’m 99 percent sure he’s going to shut me off and tell us to get the hell out of the bar since we’re already closed, but then the unexpected happens.
“Fine.”
Did I hear that right? He’s agreeing ?
Charlie beams. “This is going to be epic. Let me grab some scraps of paper, and I’ll do the raffle really quick.”
Jude’s still smiling as he looks from me to Travis. “Never thought I’d see the day, Ward.”
The only response poor Jude gets is a grunt.
Charlie reappears with a pen and five pieces of paper. “This is how we’re gonna do it,” he starts, leaning on the bar to write something down. “I’m writing one name on each piece of paper. Then we’ll put them inside my hat, and finally we’ll take turns picking one. But you can’t share the name with anyone else, otherwise it’s no fun.”
“What happens if we get our own name?” Jude asks.
“You show everyone, so we make sure you’re not cheating, and then you grab another one.”
“I’m so excited,” Sandra says, sending me a wide smile I can’t help but mimic.
I’ve heard of Secret Santa before, but I’ve never played. Jada and Paul aren’t big on gifts, and years ago, we decided not to send one another any Christmas or birthday presents. At this point in my life, a phone call or a hug means way more than any material good could. But I can’t say I’m not excited to make and receive a gift soon, even if it sounds shallow.
Maybe I should start being unapologetic about the things that make me happy, no matter how silly they might sound to others.
Charlie grabs the wool hat he was wearing this morning and tosses the papers inside. He turns to Sandra and bows dramatically. “My lady.”
“Careful, kid,” Jude growls, but we all know he’s joking. Mostly.
Sandra giggles as her hand disappears inside the hat. She takes out one of the scrunched papers and reads the name on it. “Oh! I love this. Okay.”
He turns to me, holding out the hat. “Allie Cat.”
My heart races as I reach for a piece of paper. It’s not that I want to pick up the one with Travis’s name on it or anything, but a few days ago, I saw the most perfect socks with bears on them, and I would die if I saw boss man wearing them.
My fingers shake slightly as I unfold the paper, and I don’t focus too much on the way my stomach drops when I see Jude’s name. I like Jude, and weirdly enough, I know exactly what to get him.
I give Charlie a nod. “I’m good.”
He moves on to Jude, and when he gets to Travis, the tank-sized man shakes his head. “I’ll get the last one.”
“You sure, boss?” Charlie arches a questioning eyebrow. Travis doesn’t repeat himself. “All right.”
When he reads the name on his paper, he chuckles and passes the hat to Travis. I’m not ashamed to admit I watch his face like a hawk as he grabs the last piece of paper and unfolds it carefully. But his expression gives nothing away.
“Remember, we’re working with a fifteen-dollar budget, so no need to go over-the-top. We’ll do the gift exchange on Christmas Eve after closing time. Any questions?” Charlie asks, but nobody has any. “Cool. And keep your Secret Santa, well, a secret.”
He winks at me, and I shake my head in amusement. He really isn’t subtle at all, so I’m guessing his piece of paper has my name on it. Knowing him, he’ll get me some carrot cake for laughs. I wouldn’t complain.
Sandra gives my arm a squeeze as she passes me by. “See you tomorrow, dear. Have a good night.”
“You guys too.” I wave at her and Jude as they disappear into the dark street.
Charlie comes up to me before leaving. “My friends and I are getting together this weekend after work,” he says with a hint of hopefulness in his voice, as if we both didn’t know what my answer was going to be. “It’s gonna be chill, on a pub by the lake. I’d love to see you there.”
I give him an apologetic look. “Char…”
“Come on, Allie Cat. It’s almost Christmas.” His excitement doesn’t wear off, which is impressive, given how I always turn him away. “Unless you have other plans?”
My eyes travel past Charlie and land on Travis, who is busy cleaning the already-clean counter. He’s not looking at me, but I know he’s listening.
“I don’t,” I tell him truthfully.
“Does that mean you’ll think about it?”
Will I actually think about it? I can’t remember the last time I went to a party—in fact, I don’t think I ever have. Not a real adult one anyway. Not a party I wanted to attend.
In the past, I’ve made plenty of against-my-will appearances at social gatherings and get-togethers my parents forced me to put on a fake smile for, but I don’t remember ever enjoying myself at any of them. Probably because every word I said, every move I made, had to be measured and perfect for the camera.
“Allie,” Charlie singsongs.
I blink. “Um, sure. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. See you later—text me. Bye, boss!” he throws back at Travis, who, to nobody’s surprise, doesn’t answer. None of us take it personally at this point.
Charlie leaves, but his proposition stays right there, festering away in my heart. Maybe, for once, I should say yes and see what happens. He won’t force me to stay, and if I don’t drink, I can take my car and leave whenever I want. If not, I can always call a taxi.
I’m thinking about it. I really am. It has the potential to become the worst idea I’ve had to date, but it won’t hurt to try. Right?
My head and my heart are still toying with the idea when all the lights go out, reminding me that Travis and I are the only ones left at the bar. I grab my bag and watch how bear-man swallows the distance between us, heading for the door.
“Ready to go?” he asks, which catches me off guard for some reason. He’s barely looked in my direction—let alone talked to me—since we saw each other at the grocery store yesterday.
“Yep.”
We don’t speak as he locks up, and he doesn’t utter a single word as he follows me to my car. It’s parked just a couple of streets away, but I’m not dumb enough to shoo him away when he offers to walk with me at night. Why he does it, though, escapes me. He usually just waits until I get inside my car, watching me from a distance.
I give him a genuine smile as I unlock the car and toss my bag on the passenger seat. “Thank you for walking with me.”
But of course, he says the very last thing I expected him to. “Didn’t want you to walk here all by yourself. Could be dangerous.”
Forcing myself not to think about the warehouse, I ask, “In Bannport?”
The last crime to make it to the local newspaper was a robbery attempt at a gas station eight months ago, and nobody was injured because the attacker was just some college kid from the next town over who wasn’t even armed.
“Dangerous people exist everywhere,” he says, as if he’s just read my mind.
“I know that,” I concede, anxiety starting to climb up my chest. Not now . “I’ll be more careful next time.”
Having been in the military for years, I know he must have seen some heavy stuff. And… well. It feels good to know someone besides Jada and Paul cares about me like this. It’s a nice feeling.
If I expected him to leave after that, he doesn’t. Instead, he places one massive hand on the roof of my car and scans every inch and corner of the street as I get inside. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, he shuts the door for me.
I roll down the window just enough to say, “Thanks, Travis. See you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t lean down to meet my eyes, so I don’t see his face when he answers, “Drive safe, Allie.”
I don’t shiver at the way that gruff voice says my name. I’m just cold because the window is down.
Liar.
What’s new?