Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
When Travis told me he was going to come back for the apartment tour, I didn’t think he was going to drive me there. That may be why I’m now standing in front of him, confused.
I hike my bag higher on my shoulder and play with my car keys in my hand. “You don’t have to drive me, Travis. I’ve got my own car.”
“Not the point.”
The look he gives me leaves no room for arguments. But because I haven’t slept well and my brain isn’t functioning as well as it should, my voice takes a teasing turn, and I say, “Careful, boss man. I might start thinking you tolerate me after all.”
“I more than tolerate you, Allie.”
My heart fills with adrenaline. What does more than tolerate you even mean?
“Come on, get in the car.”
Does it mean Travis likes me?
I should probably fight him a little more on the car thing, but after two nights in a row of getting barely any sleep, I’ll be happy to let him take the wheel today—literally.
Travis starts the car once I get inside. “Where to?”
When I rattle off the address Charlie sent me last night, he only nods and drives away. I sit back in the passenger’s seat, taking in the interior of Travis’s pickup truck for the first time. It smells clean and isn’t full of shopping tickets and coins like mine is.
“Did you get any more sleep after I left?” he asks.
I need to know who took my grouchy boss and replaced him with this—dare I say—caring man who drives me places and asks about my sleeping habits. Stat .
“I didn’t, but I’m not that tired.” And because we are apparently on friendlier grounds now, I ask him, “And you?”
He shakes his head, eyes on the road. “Did you eat anything for breakfast?”
“I thought about making an omelet, but I got lazy.”
I check my phone to see if I have any new texts from Jada, but there’s nothing. Nothing from Paul either. I decide to wait until I check the new place to tell them about me moving. They don’t know about my car or the break-in next door, and I don’t want to alarm them when I’m fine. Mostly.
According to the map on my phone, the apartment is at least ten minutes away from my place, so when not even three have passed and the car stops, I slide my confused eyes to Travis, a silent question in them.
“You can’t start the day on an empty stomach.” He gestures with his chin toward the small bakery he’s parked in front of. “Let’s go.”
With far more ease than I would’ve expected given his massive size, he’s quick to exit the truck, but I pause with my hand on the handle. Is he about to buy me breakfast?
“Travis, wait,” I call out. His truck is so tall, I have to use the footboard to get down. My boss stops, looking at me over his shoulder as I reach his side. “We don’t have to stop. I’m really not that hungry.”
“You’ve barely slept, and you have a long day ahead. A muffin won’t kill you.”
He’s right, a muffin won’t kill me—but his sudden concern for me might.
Travis opens the door to the bakery, says good morning, and holds it for me so I can follow him inside.
“What do you want to get?” he asks me, wallet in hand.
I’m about to tell him once more that he doesn’t need to buy me anything, that I’m genuinely not that hungry, and that I won’t pass out if I wait until lunchtime, but then I see a three-layer carrot cake and shut my mouth again.
The old lady behind the counter smiles at me, her eyes kind, as I say, “I’ll have a slice of carrot cake, please.”
“Excellent choice.” She beams before sliding her gaze toward my boss. “How about you, Travis?”
She knows him?
“I’ll have the usual. Thank you.”
The usual? He comes here often?
I turn to him as the woman gets our food ready and ask him exactly that.
“Barbara is a friend of my uncle’s,” he explains.
I’m assuming Barbara is the woman behind the display full of goodies.
“I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth, boss man,” I tease him.
But it’s not him who answers.
“Crabby as he might be, he can’t resist my chocolate muffins,” the woman says, a loving smile touching the wrinkly corners of her lips. “You must be Allie.”
I give her another smile in return. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Likewise, dear. My name is Barbara.” She passes two brown bags to Travis as well as two steaming plastic cups of coffee and sends me a knowing look. “I hope this one isn’t giving you much trouble at work. We all know how he can get.”
I steal a quick look at Travis, but his face remains as cold as ever, unaffected by Barbara’s amicable jab.
“He’s all right.” I drop my voice on purpose. “Most days.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Sounds about right. Gotta love all his rough edges.”
“All right,” my boss interrupts, placing the money on the counter. “Thanks, Barbara. I’ll see you soon.”
She gives him an amused look. “I’m dropping by Neil’s on Friday. Don’t be a stranger.”
He nods in response, and I wave at her, following him out the door. “Have a good day, Barbara.”
“You too, Allie.”
I don’t realize it at first, but when I do, I come to a halt right outside his pickup truck, my hand freezing on the door handle.
“Travis?” My mouth feels too dry, but I push through. “How did Barbara know who I am?”
She can’t possibly know about my family. She doesn’t fit the demographic.
He opens the passenger door for me from the inside, then passes me one of the paper bags after I sit down. “She knows everyone I work with.”
Oh. Oh . That makes sense. But that means he talks about me, and I don’t know how that makes me feel.
My shoulders sag with relief, and I stick my nose inside the bag, smelling the deliciousness. “How much do I owe you for this?”
“You fed me dinner last night. We’re even.”
I could fight him on this—and I’m about to—but then I notice the white-and-green beads around his wrist, matching the pink-and-white ones I’m also wearing today.
He’s wearing my bracelet. He doesn’t hate it or think it’s silly.
One would think my slice of carrot cake—that comes with a cute plastic fork and everything—and my coffee would keep me busy during the trip, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.
Because as soon as Travis pulls into traffic, my eyes land on the beaded bracelet around his wrist again. Unable to help myself, my attention shifts from his wrist to his hand, to those thick fingers wrapped around the wheel, and my pulse quickens.
I’ve never been attracted to someone’s hands before, and it’s…definitely something. I wouldn’t call Travis’s hands beautiful, or at least not in the most conventional sense of the word. They aren’t smooth or delicate but calloused and rough.
It doesn’t help that I’ve seen him lift heavy boxes at The Lair with those hands and fix doorknobs and faulty furniture. His are capable hands. Hands with a kind of scorching warmth I’ve felt against my body, even if only for a fleeting moment that probably meant nothing to him.
This is just an infatuation that will lead nowhere. I know this, and I’m okay with it. Really. I’m not so delusional as to think my thirty-seven-year-old boss could ever feel anything for me.
So as Travis pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building, and I gulp down the remains of my coffee, I tell myself I’m allowed to daydream about his hands from time to time, but that I should stop before my heart becomes even more invested.
“Is that him?” I ask Travis when I spot a middle-aged man pacing back and forth in front of the building’s entrance, dangling a set of keys in his hand. His jeans are worn and dark, matching his puffer jacket. I’m assuming he has long hair since it’s pulled back with a tie. Nothing about him looks familiar.
He kills the engine. “Yeah.”
We exit the car at the same time. As Travis throws my bag and our empty coffee cups in the trash, I make a beeline for this Robert Marcelli guy.
Mistake number one.
“You Allie Smith?” the man in questions asks, and not exactly in a nice way.
But I nod, my smile not faltering because I need to move out and won’t jeopardize this opportunity. There are no other long-term rentals available within my budget right now, so it’s either this or I risk being robbed.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
He doesn’t say it back. “I need to be somewhere else in fifteen, so hurry up.”
I blink.
“I’m sorry,” I start, unable to hide my confusion. “We can reschedule if you’d like. My friend said you’d be free?—”
“No rescheduling,” he interrupts, making something anxious and ugly sit at the pit of my stomach. “You either like it or you don’t, darlin’. I don’t have all day. Let’s get moving.”
My feet stay rooted, not moving an inch. Robert’s back is turned to me as he struggles to unlock the door, and I feel him before I see him.
“Who the fuck are you talking to like that?”
Robert freezes, then unfreezes a moment later as he turns to look at the menacing presence at my back. Travis is standing so close, I feel his body heat against my skin, lighting it on fire.
“Ward.” By the way he says it, one doesn’t need to be a genius to know the man who probably won’t be my future landlord isn’t a fan of my boss, for whatever reason. It no longer surprises me that everyone knows everyone in small towns. “You with this chick?”
This chick.
My eye twitches.
And just like that, even if this were the last available apartment in the whole of Maine, I decide I would rather set up camp in the changing room of The Lair than see or speak to this clown ever again.
“You know what? I don’t think this place is for me after all,” I say loud and clear. I’m proud that my voice doesn’t quiver, that my shoulders don’t drop as Robert’s face surely does.
“You kiddin’ me? You didn’t even see it,” he argues.
“It’s not the apartment I have an issue with.”
Mistake number two.
Robert’s expression morphs into something ugly and mean—something I haven’t seen in six years. I fight against making the connection with all I’ve got, but the way his lip curls reminds me so much of my mother, I take a step back.
This man has no power over me. He isn’t her.
Robert opens his mouth. “You b?—”
“Careful how you speak to my girl.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs.
My girl.
Me… Travis’s girl?
When I feel him take a step forward, I snap out of it. I appreciate that he’s standing up for me, but we don’t need to send anyone to the hospital today.
“Thanks for your time.” I send Robert my fakest smile, and I hope he isn’t stupid enough to open his mouth again.
When his gaze travels to the ready-to-pounce beast behind me, and I see that throat working a heavy swallow, I know he isn’t.
Travis waits until I’m in the car before he moves, his attention still on Robert. If he says something else to him, I don’t hear it—not like my head has much space left anyway after those two words.
My girl.
He probably means I’m his girl as in part of his staff. I shouldn’t overthink this.
Travis is a protective man. He always makes sure I get to my car safely and has come to my rescue several times in the past year when I’ve had to deal with difficult patrons. He even stayed the night on my minuscule couch to make sure I was safe if anything happened. Being an ex-Navy SEAL, protecting must be second nature to him. I’m not special. He does this for everyone—especially if they are under the average height and don’t look particularly strong or menacing. He’s only looking out for me like any other good person would.
“You didn’t threaten him, did you?” I ask him when he slides into the driver’s seat. I arch an unamused eyebrow when he doesn’t answer. “Boss man, we can’t jeopardize The Lair’s reputation for something silly.”
“Nobody talks to you like that and gets away with it, you hear me?”
I don’t know how to respond to this version of him. The version that openly cares so much for me.
I more than tolerate you, Allie.
“We’ll figure something out,” he adds, pulling out of the parking lot. “You’re moving out of that shithole.”
I don’t have the energy to tell him I’m not too sure about that.