percent discount by offering to pay cash.” She squeezed Georgie. “You do me proud.”
Georgie blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “Thanks.”
Romantic gestures.
Right.
Travis knew as much about romantic gestures as he knew about spring fashion trends. But he’d given up the impossible battle of keeping his hands off Georgie. This was what she claimed to need to make it feel right. So here he was. At her house. Breaking and entering.
He twirled the key ring around his index finger and contemplated the cheerful red front door. Fake boyfriends were allowed to come over unannounced, weren’t they? She wouldn’t mind. Probably.
And it wasn’t as if he’d come here to roll around in her sheets or steal her panties while she wasn’t home. He had a mission. The contents of his truck bed were proof enough of that. He’d woken up bright and early this morning and knocked on the Castles’ front door, relieved when Vivian answered—he hadn’t been lying to Georgie about needing some time before looking her father in the eye. Then again, maybe doing so would always be a little difficult, since he planned to do all manner of ungodly things to Georgie. Starting whenever she arrived home from the birthday party she was working.
But he wanted to make some progress before then.
Travis slipped the key into the lock and twisted, letting himself into the house. He walked through the silent interior, smiling as he stepped over a pair of clown shoes, and continued through the rear entrance into the backyard. After propping open the side gate, he started carting materials from his truck, setting up his table saw and belt sander on the back lawn. Carrying the final item on his own was something of a task, because it was difficult to navigate turns with a tree branch on your shoulder, but he managed.
Hours later, he’d sawed the tree branch into equal pieces of lumber and started the process of sanding the rough grain, making it smooth to the touch. He took one water break, only to realize he didn’t have any water. There’d been no choice but to track a little sawdust and dirt into Georgie’s kitchen to retrieve a bottle of cool refreshment. While he stood in the tiny kitchen with vintage fixtures and a sign over the stove that said OH, FOR FORK’S SAKE, Travis got an idea. After making a phone call to a local restaurant, he went back out and commenced sanding once again.
Romantic gestures. This had to be one, right?
He hadn’t witnessed too many of them in his life. Once, during his first season with the Hurricanes, a teammate had proposed to his girlfriend before getting on the bus. He’d gotten down on one knee, right there in front of the friends who proceeded to tease him ruthlessly for the entire ride to the airport. The proposer hadn’t given a flying shit, though. He’d just been happy to get a yes, damn the consequences. At the time, Travis couldn’t believe any man would voluntarily tie himself down. He’d thought the guy was a sucker.
He still did. But he could admit to himself that he wouldn’t mind seeing Georgie that happy. In fact, he craved it. And that scared the shit out of him.
Travis switched off the belt sander and took a slug of water, swiping the wrist of his work glove across his forehead. A large, thick plank lay on its side in the grass, knots and age rings visible in every gorgeous inch—that piece would serve as the mantel. One day, Georgie would put framed pictures of her children on it. She’d start a fire in the wintertime, run her fingers along the glossy texture. Would she think of him?
He’d taken his shirt off in deference to the heat, but the sudden cold made him wish for it now. He paced away from the machinery, tapping his water bottle on his thigh. No longer seeing the shade-dappled backyard around him. Once upon a time, Travis’s father had probably made romantic overtures to his mother. Probably brought her flowers and squired her on dates.
Then Travis had come along and put an end to all of that, hadn’t he? Not only had any semblance of romance ceased, all-out warfare had started. A memory resurfaced, not so different from countless others knocking around in his head. After the initial separation, his mother and father both wanted to go out with friends on the same night.
“You take him.”
“Not tonight. I need this.”
“I need to get