Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Isla
It’s been almost two weeks since Travis and I had our discussion in the office, and things have been better between us. It’s not like we have lunch together and chat about what shows we’re streaming, but the underlying tension of our dislike has vanished.
Unfortunately, that’s only made it even more obvious that the sexual tension between us still exists. Which is all kinds of wrong because not only is Travis my boss, but I have a boyfriend.
Who knows, maybe it’s all in my head or it’s just one-sided. Travis hasn’t said anything flirty or inappropriate to me, but when I’m in the same room as him, I wonder what it would have been like that night.
Maybe I’m just hard up for sex because I still haven’t slept with Blake. I don’t even know why exactly, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore that there has to be some reason. I was willing to sleep with Travis the first night I met him. Blake seems to be wondering the same thing, because I read his body language when I turn him down.
It’s Friday night, and in an effort to move our relationship forward, I’ve invited Blake to join the RENT-A HUSBAND gang after work at The Third Rail. Something I think might have been a bad idea from the moment he sits at the table with myself, Josh, Brady, Lucas, and Camila. Travis isn’t here. Maybe he won’t come.
Blake sticks out like a sore thumb with his preppy dress shirt and slacks, but more so with how he looks around the place—as though he’s never seen anything like it and might catch some disease by being here.
The Seattle Mariners’ pregame show is playing on all the televisions, and the guys at the table are only half-paying attention to the conversation.
“Do you follow baseball?” Lucas asks Blake before tipping back his beer.
I appreciate Lucas trying to make conversation with him, but I inwardly cringe, knowing what Blake’s answer will be. A few weeks into dating Blake, I asked him if he’d ever like to go to a ball game with me and received a hard no. Apparently, things like sports are beneath Blake. It bothered me then because, although I’ve never been that sporty, I’ve always been an avid baseball and football fan. I chalked it up to people having different interests, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But now I think it’s probably more a part of his personality—the part that judges people he sees as beneath him.
“Never been a fan,” Blake says, and I say a small thanks to the universe that he didn’t carry on and on about physical ability versus intelligence like he did when I brought up sports.
“What about football?” Brady asks. “The Seahawks are looking more promising this year.”
“I don’t watch football either,” he says.
There’s a bit of an awkward silence at the table until Camille breaks it. “Where’s Travis?”
“His last call took longer than expected. Texted me to say he’d be a little late,” Josh says.
I frown and wonder whether I shouldn’t have added that last call to his schedule today. It’s not a perfect science, figuring out how many calls to assign each guy, though in the time I’ve been here, I’ve become much better at estimating how much they can get done in a day.
A few minutes pass as Josh and Brady talk about their weekend plans. Apparently his sister will be moving in next weekend, so they’re going to have one last hurrah before she moves in and cramps Brady’s style—his words, not mine.
“There’s the big guy,” Josh says, looking behind me.
I turn and look over my shoulder to see Travis approaching. His gaze meets mine, then flicks over to Blake before he looks away completely.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Travis says when he reaches the table.
“No worries. Here, let me grab you a chair.” Lucas stands and asks the table behind him if he can use one of the two chairs that are empty.
We’re seated at a table for six, and I have Blake to my left and Camila right across from me. Lucas is in the middle beside her, with Josh beside his brother and Brady across from him. When Lucas brings the chair to the end of the table beside Camila and me, my heartbeat jackhammers.
Travis situates his big body in the seat, and I sit up a little straighter in my chair now that I have him to my right and Blake to my left. It feels like the universe is trying to send me a message.
But no. No! Travis and I had our moment, and it has passed. I’m with Blake now, and yes, there are things about him that irk me, but isn’t it that way with everyone? He’s a hardworking man, a gentleman, and has a bright future ahead of him. All things someone like me, a woman approaching thirty in a couple of years, should find attractive. And I do. I do.
“Problems at your last call?” Lucas asks, sitting down again.
Travis shakes his head. “Nah, just took longer than expected.”
I frown. “Sorry if I put too much on your plate today. Maybe I should’ve saved that call for Monday morning.”
His dark eyes meet mine. “It’s fine, Isla. I should’ve been out of there on time.”
Josh and Lucas laugh, seeming to know whatever Travis is talking about.
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“The client was hitting on Trav,” Josh says matter-of-factly.
My head whips back toward Travis. “Is that true?”
It’s hard to tell with the short beard he wears, but I think his cheeks pinken. “Yeah, she, uh… she wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept chatting me up the entire time, which meant it took twice as long to get done what I needed. And then before I left she, uh…” He looks so uncomfortable, I can’t imagine what he will say.
Josh laughs from the far end of the table. “Do tell, brother.”
Travis palms the back of his neck and sort of cringes. “She said she wanted to show me something on her computer, and she showed me her PornHub profile where she posts her videos. Asked me if I wanted to make one with her to post. Role play the whole handyman thing.”
My mouth drops while Josh and Brady laugh uncontrollably. I glance at Camila, who rolls her eyes, while Lucas shakes his head. I don’t even want to know what Blake thinks of this, so I don’t glance in his direction.
“That is unbelievable!” I tell myself I’m outraged by the fact that some woman would put any man in an uncomfortable situation like that when he’s just there to do his job, but my subconscious presses at me, questioning whether I’d be as offended if it were one of the other Abbott brothers. I insist to my subconscious that I would. “Do things like that happen often?”
I’ve heard the guys make off-handed comments about how sometimes women will hit on them, but I pictured older women asking if they were single so they could set them up with their daughters. Or women my age dropping hints that they were single and available. I did not picture women showing them the porn movies they’ve starred in.
He shrugs. “They’re not usually that forward, but yeah, it happens.”
I hate the nausea I feel at his admission.
I turn to look at Camila, the only woman here who has any right to feel any kind of reaction about this. “You’re okay with this?”
“I’m not okay with it, but there’s not much I can do. Besides, I trust Lucas.” She smiles and kisses her fiancé.
“What’s it matter to you?” Blake asks me. Is it me, or is there a little more than common interest in his tone?
“It doesn’t,” I insist. “I just think it’s terrible for someone to do that. Imagine if the tables were turned.”
Blake shrugs. “Guess that’s what you get when you name your company RENT-A HUSBAND.”
The table goes silent, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Josh is the first to recover. “You guys think we’re going to win this one tonight?”
I’m so thankful to him for changing the subject that I could crawl across the table and kiss him.
Thankfully, Mel, the waitress, picks that moment to approach Travis to see if he wants a drink.
“Hi, Travis.” She bats her eyelashes.
“Hey, Mel.” He shifts in his seat and doesn’t maintain eye contact with her.
“What can I get you?” The way she says it makes it sound as though there’s more up for grabs than whatever is behind the bar.
Oh my god, why am I being so catty? Mel is a really nice woman.
“I’ll take my usual. Thanks.” Travis turns his attention to the baseball game that’s just starting on TV.
“Bro, why don’t you just put her out of her misery and ask her out? Maybe you two will hit it off,” Josh says to Travis.
He frowns. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”
Josh shakes his head. “Does your junk even still work? Use it or lose it, as they say.” He lifts his beer toward Brady, who clinks the neck of his beer against his friend’s.
I’m looking at my lap, so I see Travis’s hands clench into fists.
“I know you wouldn’t understand the concept of self-control, Josh, but it’s also because we come in here all the time, and if things didn’t go well, I’d have to see her all the time, and then it would be weird. For everyone. Including you.”
Josh guffaws. “So what? It’s no different than you and?—”
My chair screeches as I abruptly stand, and everyone turns to look at me. “I’m going to the restroom. Be right back.”
I make my way to the hallway that leads to the restroom, forcing myself to keep my pace slow and steady.
Stupid Josh.
Why would he bring that up so casually when my boyfriend is here? Best-case scenario, I’ve told Blake that I’ve been on a date with Travis—I haven’t. Worst case, I haven’t, and I have to explain what happened that night in front of everyone.
I use the bathroom quickly and wash my hands. This has been a disaster so far. I feel as if I’m walking on eggshells, having Blake and Travis in the same place, when nothing is going on between Travis and me. I have nothing to feel weird about. So why do I?
With a sigh, I leave the bathroom and make my way back to the table, deciding to double down on the fact that I’m here with Blake. Fake it until you make it, right?
I meet Travis’s gaze as I walk toward the table, since he’s directly facing me. There’s a note of apology in his gaze when I approach, but it’s not his fault that his younger brother has a big mouth.
After I sit, I shift my weight toward Blake, leaning on the armrest of my chair. He’s talking to Brady about something and absentmindedly wraps his arms around my shoulders. Gah! Why does that make me feel as if I’m doing something wrong?
I can practically feel Travis’s attention on the spot where Blake’s thumb is rubbing my shoulder, but rather than move away from his touch, which feels like the right thing to do, I lean in.
And thus begins the longest night of my life.