“discreet” cell phone pictures on the other side of the room. Several patrons were watching them, some he even recognized from the past or since he’d returned to Port Jeff. There was some head shaking going on, but mostly gleeful curiosity.
“Two Bats.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, turning him around to face a man around his age he didn’t recognize. He was accompanied by a red-faced woman who was trying to hide behind her drink, a tourist map open in front of her on the bar. “I’m Mike, this is Cheryl.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Told her I wouldn’t say anything, but you’ve always been my wife’s hall pass.”
A hole opened in Travis’s stomach. Why hadn’t he taken this possibility into consideration? Of his persona catching up with him in public. The fact that Georgie was bearing witness made it so much worse than ever before. “That so?” He forced a tight smile. “I’m honored.”
Laughing, the man turned to face Travis fully, and he instantly regretted that he hadn’t shut the interaction down harder. The cameraman had already scented blood and was moving closer, within earshot of the conversation. “You can fit her into your busy schedule, can’t you?” Mike jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d finally get a night of peace and quiet.”
Travis nodded stiffly, shame bubbling to the surface. He wanted to throw Georgie over his shoulder and make for the exit. “Schedule is full tonight, pal,” he rasped, apologizing to Georgie with his eyes.
Mike was clearly not ready to let the running joke drop. “Tomorrow, then. You should be ready for someone new by then, right? That’s Two Bats’s style. Hit her and quit her—”
Travis’s anger erupted. Just blew like Mount St. Helens down deep in his gut. The joke being played at his expense made him queasy, but as soon as the man suggested he’d hit and quit Georgie, a switch flipped and he saw bright fucking red. This is what people think of me. His fist slammed the bar and he turned, crowding Mike. “You want to disrespect me? Be my guest. But don’t you ever—ever—speak about her like that, motherfucker,” he said for the man’s ears alone. “Or the only thing I’ll be fitting into my schedule is your full-time ass kicking. You hearing me?”
Mike’s hands came up in surrender, but Georgie stepped in between them. Travis couldn’t see her face, but the tension in her body told him she was furious. On his behalf? “How dare you talk to him like that? Like he exists for your entertainment. You don’t know him. He’s not like that. Not anymore,” Georgie said, jolting back against Travis’s chest when the camera erupted in a series of shots.
His arm automatically went around her waist protectively, the need to get her out of the restaurant eating him alive. “Baby girl, come on—”
“Apologize . . . to my boyfriend. Now, please.”
“Yeah,” Mike muttered, chin tucking into his chest. “Sorry, I was out of line.”
“Thank you,” Georgie huffed.
With his fucking heart in his mouth, Travis watched his best friend’s little sister turned take-no-shit woman drain her drink and smack it back down on the bar, turning to him with a dazed expression.
“Want to go?”
“Yeah,” he rasped, throwing some money on the bar and guiding her around Mike and Cheryl to the exit. He moved in a trance, barely aware of the cameraman following them, although the man was on his cell phone now, speaking in a low, rushed tone. What the hell had just happened? One minute he’d been sinking into a mire of shame; now he might as well be watching a grand slam sail out of the park.
Even after agreeing to this charade with Georgie, he’d never really expected to shed his image as a lothario. What was the point of trying to change the public’s mind when it was already made up? Had he been selling himself short? Would Georgie defend him with such conviction otherwise?
They hit the parking lot and moved in tacit agreement toward Georgie’s car. “Well,” she breathed. “Tonight wasn’t a very compelling argument for you to stop getting takeout delivered every night, huh?”
“Georgie,” Travis growled, yanking her to a stop at the driver’s side. Her head fell back, calling attention to the strands of hair that had slipped loose from her braid, the streetlight catching the sheen of her mouth. Gorgeous. Outraged, too. All for him. “Thank you.” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.