grab the hat and yank it back down over her head, pulling her wealth of hair through the back opening. “What are you here to speak with Stephen about?”
The husky tone of her voice perturbed him even more, though he couldn’t say why. “Can you go play outside while the adults talk?”
She looked bored, but Travis got the impression it was an act. “It’s not my turn for the swing.”
The sound of a phone hitting the cradle ricocheted through the office.
“Georgie,” Stephen called behind Travis. “That’s enough. We’ll talk later.”
“Right,” she muttered, her smile tight. “I can take a hint, too.”
An uncomfortable sensation moved in Travis’s chest as Georgie backed toward the door. When he’d been patronizing to her like an asshole, it hadn’t sounded as bad as when Stephen did it, right? Yeah. Probably. And so be it. Making this girl feel welcome wasn’t his job, especially if her own brother didn’t see a reason to do so.
“Oh!” Georgie stopped and spun, keeping one hand on the doorknob. “Stephen, I’m starting a new tradition this weekend. Saturday brunch at my place. Can you come?”
Travis turned to find his friend scribbling on a legal pad, barely giving his sister the time of day. “Sure, sure. I’ll talk to Kristin.”
“Great.” She seemed to brace herself. “Travis, you’re invited, too.”
“Don’t count on me.”
She sent him an exaggerated wink. “It’s the blue house at the end of Whittier. Big elm tree in the yard. I’ll see you there.”
“You won’t.”
“But I think I will,” she said in a drawn-out whisper, edging into the sunlight.
Travis watched in exasperation as Georgie passed in front of the plateglass window, while pretending to be on a down escalator. “Is she always like this?”
“Who?”
Again, that weird roll of discomfort tried to pass through him, but he batted it away. “Your sister.”
“Oh, Georgie? Pretty much.” Stephen’s voice came from right behind Travis, prompting him to turn and shake the other man’s hand. “You still look like shit, but you’ve moved to a step above corpse.”
“Yeah? I’ll rebound.” He forced a grin. “You’ll look like shit forever.”
Tight-lipped and grim-faced, Stephen wasn’t a man given to laughing. His snort was his closest mirth indicator. With a chin jerk, he stomped back toward his desk and took a long sip of what appeared to be a fruit smoothie. “Saw you talking to a girl outside.” His stare was baleful. “Did she land the coveted first date?”
Travis dropped into the chair facing Stephen’s desk. “Come again?”
“Kristin tells me there’s something of an informal competition brewing in Port Jeff. Now that you’ve finally emerged from your hovel, I’m guessing it’s game on.”
A vein started to pound behind Travis’s eye. “Let me get this straight. There’s a competition and the object is to date me?”
“About right.”
“What I do is the opposite of dating. I do not date.”
“I didn’t either until I met Kristin.” He nodded, obviously preparing to tell Travis the same story he’d related several times over the phone and would probably tell another nine hundred times throughout his life. Christ, his best friend was already such a dad. Travis couldn’t even commit to a toothpaste brand. “She was on vacation in New York, visiting from Georgia. Saw her crossing an intersection in Manhattan. I pulled over, asked her to lunch, and she never went home.”
“I told you before, bro. That sounds more like kidnapping.”
Stephen let that go without comment. “What can I do for you, Travis? I’m guessing you didn’t come here looking for a job.”
There was a pinch in his chest at the prospect of signing on for a daily grind. Forming a routine. Those things meant devoting himself. Having people count on him. Being on a team. When a man’s usefulness ran out, Travis knew very well what happened, but he had no choice. Rotting away in a one-bedroom wasn’t an option, no matter how much he wanted it to be. “Actually, I did. Come here to look for a job.”
His oldest friend sat forward in his chair. “I know how many zeroes were attached to those contracts you signed, man. You don’t need the work.”
“Need? No.” Georgie’s voice caught him off guard for the tenth time that day. The guy we all looked up to is a drunk slob. “I just need something to keep me busy until I figure out my next move,” he said quickly, trying to dispel the words in his head. “Wasn’t so long ago I used to swing the hammer for extra cash during summer vacation.