Chapter 11 #2
Three, Travis can’t take him. Four, there is nowhere to cry.
She heaved a breath and turned, ready to step off the dock to the beach. The mountain beaches weren’t the ocean kind with small, pebbled sand that stuck to your skin. These were muddy beaches with rocks. Lots and lots of rocks.
Rocks and the pull of the water. She looked back at the lake.
Screw it.
She pulled her top over her head, revealing a black tank top underneath.
“What exactly are you doing?” Travis asked. “My mother could come around that corner at any second.”
Instinct seemed to kick in and he did a scan of the beach and trail, apparently to be sure his mother wasn’t going to pop out from behind a juniper tree. He could chill. She wouldn’t take off all her clothes.
“I’m going swimming.” Rachel pulled off her shoes, setting them beside her shirt. “I’m having fun. Because, apparently, I take shit too seriously.”
And the water screamed for her to let it soothe the ache of motherhood that rooted so deep she thought it would pull her under.
…
TRAVIS
Fucking hell, was this the moment they were going to deal with that?
“You can’t skinny-dip in the middle of the day.” Travis did a wide wave with his arm. “There are boats out here.”
Also, his mother’s fake cat would have a whole basket full of kittens. Hell, if he had a fake cat, she would probably have kittens, too.
Rachel gave a sound that sounded like pshaw. “Oh, does me having fun bother you? Make you uncomfortable?”
She frowned and lines around her eyes, that he’d never noticed before, deepened. When’d she get those? And why did she have frowny lines instead of laugh lines? He blamed Gavin.
“Rachel, this is enough.” Before he could ask her nicely to reconsider, she turned and did another scan of the water.
“How deep is this?”
Uh. “Deep enough for a speedboat.”
They hadn’t moved the family boats over yet. Actually, he’d need to chat with the head of maintenance to find out why.
Still wearing only her shorts and the tank top, she dove into the lake like she was an Olympic swimmer.
Her form was spot-on and she hit the water with her freestyle stroke ready to go.
Travis gulped.
Then he turned back toward the trail. Then he turned back toward the water. Trail. Water. Trail. Water.
He decided he should probably—as a southern gentleman—ensure that she did not drown.
“Are you coming in?” She turned, treading water several lengths from the edge of the dock.
He shoved his hands onto his hips. “I am not.”
Her blond hair hung around her shoulders, meeting at the waterline to fan around her. Somehow her pink lipstick was still intact.
Pink lipstick that probably tasted like sunshine. No. He could not think shit like that.
Just because he figured she tasted like sunshine didn’t mean he was going to go licking her to find out.
Once at Casa Bonita, he’d wondered what the enchiladas tasted like on Kellan’s plate. Nope, didn’t taste those, just let his mind wonder and moved on.
“Forgot how to swim?” Rachel asked, still treading water.
“I can swim,” he called.
“Then you’re just a scaredy-cat.” She laughed, floating on her back, and her boobs were so right there, two mounds above the water, and he was really wishing she would go back to the treading water thing.
“My mama terrifies me.”
Then Rachel, serious as all hell Rachel, did the one thing he did not expect.
Rachel meowed.
He couldn’t let that stand. He was not a scaredy-cat. What was he telling his mama about limits and how he didn’t like abiding by them?
Rachel laughed like he’d never heard her laugh before. “Your face. You should see your face.”
He wanted her to laugh like that. Laugh lines, not frown lines, should find their way into her expressions.
“Get out of the way,” he instructed, waving her aside. She did as he asked, doing a side-swim to the north.
“I jump in this lake and you promise to seriously reconsider letting Brady fly.” Hell, might as well negotiate with her when he could.
As she moved aside, he was already unhooking his belt and pulling down his jeans.
“No.” She shook her head.
The black boxers he was wearing had to count as swimming trunks of some variety. He yanked his shirt over his head and cannonballed into the lake.
It. Was. Fucking. Cold.
He pushed himself up to the surface, sputtering and cussing at the cold.
“You didn’t say it was f-f-freezing.”
She lifted a shoulder and splashed him. “Meow.”
She moved to splash him again, and he caught her wrist in his hand before she could complete the motion. A zing of something that felt like a live electrical wire moved through him when their skin connected.
Suddenly, the lake wasn’t really that cold anymore.
Neither of them said anything, and she wasn’t laughing anymore. They clearly weren’t thinking of cats or airplanes. They were both there, in a lake, and he was holding her… wrist.
Without thinking further, he treaded through the foot of water separating them until there were only a few inches between them. He slid his hand along the inside of her wrist up to her palm until their hands met and he linked their fingers together.
Her mouth parted.
He was hard in spite of the chill of the lake. And he didn’t fucking care.
He stroked the fleshy part of her palm with his thumb. “Do you want to meow at me again?”
She shook her head. It was subtle, but there. “I’m good.” He grinned.
“Glad we settled that.”
Rachel’s free hand skimmed along his side, pulling him closer to her. Any closer and she’d feel… Her eyes went wide.
Yup, she’d felt it. The evidence of his desire was tenting his boxers, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
Rachel opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.
She seemed to be steeling some kind of resolve.
Her leg brushed his as she kicked to tread water, and that seemed to make her decision for her. “Travis, I’d like to—”
“Mom!” Kellan’s voice pierced the quiet of their side of the lake.
Travis swam away from Rachel faster than he’d ever
moved in the water. He didn’t look back, because he really needed to get his body under control.
“Hey, baby.” Rachel waved to her son. “Are you coming in?”
“Can I?” Kellan asked.
Rachel nodded, and that’s all it took. Kellan stripped down to his Lightning McQueen skivvies and ran down the length of the dock like a hooligan with the police on his tail. Brady followed, but he took his time getting out of his clothes, folding them neatly and setting them beside his mother’s.
Dane moseyed along behind the boys, stopping at the end of the dock while they cannonballed into the lake a la their uncle Travis. He, however, did not strip down and jump in.
Instead, he took a look at Travis, then he glanced at Rachel already playing an impromptu game of Marco Polo with her kids, and then he shook his head. “I’ll head up to the house and grab you yahoos some towels.”
“Towels are for weenies and old people,” Kellan yelled.
“Kellan,” Rachel admonished. “Use your nice words when someone offers to do something kind for you.”
“I’d love a towel,” Travis hollered. Giving a thumbs up for good measure.
His erection disappeared, thank fuck, and he had every intention of getting in on this game of Marco Polo. Back in high school, he’d been known as the Marco Polo prick. That wasn’t true, but it could’ve been because he was that good at the game. He did have two brothers, after all.
Rachel was saying something to Kellan, quiet-like, but with intensity. Kellan was listening because Rachel likely wasn’t giving him a choice in the matter. Travis had a feeling he was getting an earful about respect, if he had to guess.
Even fun Rachel, in a lake, had her limits, apparently. “No, thank you, Uncle Dane,” Kellan hollered with a wave. “No towel for me, but Brady and Mom want one.”
“Bring me two in case we need an extra,” Travis said, mid sidestroke.
Dane gave a return thumbs up and headed back down the dock.
“Now, boys, I would like to show you how to play Marco Polo.” Travis ducked under the water to show them just that.
There was a great deal of scurrying of limbs, and he did not check out Rachel’s legs under the water. That’s his story, and he was sticking to it.
Travis could hold his breath for an abnormally long time. When he was a kid, it used to freak his mama way the hell out.
He had his eye on Rachel’s calf and followed her, careful to stay low enough not to make ripples under the water.
Finally, she stopped moving, and he surfaced in front of her, touching her gently on the shoulder and said, “Polo.”
Rachel. Shrieked. Her kids cracked up.
She whacked him in the chest. “I can’t believe you just did that. How long have you been there?”
The boys were still laughing and roughhousing and generally having a great time, so he took the opportunity and leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “Long enough to want you to look at me like you did before everybody showed up.”
Turned out he could be serious. Serious about playing with fire.
Rachel’s mouth parted, and that was all he got because the boys tag teamed him and both climbed on his back. It was the kids against the team they’d elected to call the elderly and, in the end, Dane showed up with towels and Rachel called it a draw.
For the record, it wasn’t a draw, and Travis had totally won.
He pulled himself onto the dock, still high on adrenaline from the lake, and the kids, and Rachel.
His mama stood next to Dane. She did not appear thrilled. As a matter of fact, if he had to guess, she’d start talking about her pretend cat pretty soon.
Dane gave him a sorry-she-made-me-bring-her-along look.
Travis pulled each of the boys out of the water onto the dock. Rachel was already climbing the ladder and made it to the top before he could even offer assistance, because, of course, she didn’t need help.
She was Rachel.
And as soon as she hit the top step, she wrapped a towel around herself—which was a shame—and helped her boys dry off.
He didn’t realize he was staring at her until his mother hissed his name. “Travis.”
Mama’s tone caught his attention. He turned.
She stepped forward, towel extended like a peace offering. But he knew that look in her eyes. Knew that was not what this was.
“Rachel is Gavin’s wife.” She said the words softly, but in the tone she used when there was no debate.
His mother had already made her feelings on the Rachel subject perfectly clear.
“They’re not married anymore,” Travis said, doing his best to ignore his mama’s tone. “They had one of the shortest marriages in the history of marriage. You should know, you were there.”
“Messing around with your brother’s wife is not what our family stands for.” Mama’s cheeks were scooting right past pink into red territory.
“No, we stand for toaster tarts.”
Past red and into full crimson, her face blazed. “My cat is so disappointed right now.”
Her and her fake cat.
Travis took a deep breath and leaned forward to peck his mama’s cheek.
“Rachel is off-limits,” she said.
“You should know better than to set limits,” Travis replied, just as softly as she’d spoken. “I don’t pay attention to them anyway.”