Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(14)

They could be friends, him and Georgie. That’s what was wrong. He didn’t want one—especially her. She was too young, too positive, and too related to his best friend. For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from thanking her, though, in his own way. For thinking he was worth her attempts to wave away the gloom. “Listen . . .” She turned hopeful eyes on him and he frowned back. “Pick a day next week and I’ll come take some measurements on that fireplace.”

Her hands flew to her chest, flattening there. “You’re going to redo my fireplace?”

“If you don’t make me clean,” Travis said, crossing his arms.

Georgie threw open the cabinet beneath his kitchen sink and started rooting through whatever cleaning supplies the last tenant had left behind, since he sure as shit hadn’t bought any. “I’ll clean this whole place top to bottom if I’m getting a fireplace out of the deal. Does Tuesday sound good for our appointment?”

“Tuesday, fine. But do you understand the ass kicking I’m inviting from your brother, having you cook and clean for me? Not happening.”

She straightened, examining a bottle of Windex. “You seem to be suffering from the delusion that my brother cares how I spend my time. He just wants me out of the way.”

None of his business. None. “He cares about you.”

Her mouth moved into a little O, and Travis found himself staring at it longer than he should. Apparently this was what happened when he didn’t get laid for months. The closest woman started to look good. That was the only reason his fingers were tingling to unsnap Georgie’s overalls and get a good goddamn look at her. Relieved by that iron-clad reasoning—almost—Travis turned away.

“Fine, let’s both clean this fucking place. That’s the only way this doesn’t bite me in the ass.”

Georgie tilted her head. “You mean rats. It’s the only way rats don’t bite you—”

“Shut up, Georgie.”

“Done.”

She got started shoveling garbage and takeout containers into a black garbage bag while Travis ate yet another round of her amazing cooking, not bothering to hide his exasperation when she snuck A League of Their Own into his DVD player. A few times, when she caught him watching the screen and lifted her chin in sarcastic reproof, Travis got the urge to tickle her. Or ruffle her hair. Things he never would have hesitated to do when they were younger. Something made him keep his hands to himself this time, though. Intuition told him an innocent touch could lead down a distinctly not innocent path—and he wouldn’t be questioning that instinct or exploring it any further.

“Have you managed to avoid the dating competition?” Georgie asked while shoveling old magazines into a trash bag.

“Sort of,” he droned, catcalls from the construction site echoing in his head. “Come to think of it, how do I know you’re not a spy? Or worse, a contestant.” When she came up sputtering, Travis winked to let her know he was joking. “What about your dating situation?”

Before he could berate himself for asking Georgie about something that was damn well none of his business, she laughed. “In a word? Dire. Most of the men I come into contact with are off-the-market fathers. Not a lot of young single men hanging out at princess parties.” She picked up a petrified sock and tapped it against the wall, raising an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. “Maybe you should let the dating competition contestants take a tour of your place. Problem solved.”

“If you’re suggesting we stop cleaning, I’m in.”

“You wish,” she said, dropping the sock into her garbage bag. “We soldier onward. Especially now that you’ve drawn attention to my lack of dates. I have to keep busy now or wallow in pity.”

“Stop.” Travis wiped an unknown substance off the coffee table. “I’d say the problem is everyone in town knows your brother and doesn’t want to piss him off.”

“Again, I assure you, my brother wouldn’t even notice if I started dating.”

Travis watched her work for a moment, remembering not only brunch but the conversation with Stephen in the minivan. “Is it that bad, Georgie?”

She straightened, looking so young and vulnerable that he wondered what was wrong with him, spending time alone with her. Noticing things about her. “Is what that bad?”

Why the hell was he involving himself in this? Travis didn’t know, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “You, uh . . . seem to get left out a lot. Or not considered as much as you should.” He went back to cleaning the table. “Starting to think you weren’t exaggerating.”

When Georgie was silent for a few beats, he looked up to find her staring into space. “Remember when you were at my house the other day and you said it’s no one’s fault, you made yourself a joke?”

“Yeah,” he rasped.

“It’s a little like that for me, too. The family was already solid when I was old enough to be part of the conversation. Like all little kids, I got shushed a lot, so I had to be persistent and annoying to be heard. A pest.” She shrugged. “I’m older now, but the dynamics are the same. I guess it’s easier to let them remain than to try to change them. Because what if I failed? Or what if I really am a pest?”

Travis wanted to tell her she wasn’t a pest, despite his own treatment of her. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, but what if saying so made her comfortable around him? Made her rely on him or view him as a friend? He didn’t want a friend right now, did he? Didn’t want anyone too close. “Families are complicated,” he said, even though it didn’t sound good enough. Wasn’t reassuring in the way her words had been for him. “They probably don’t even know they’re hurting your feelings, baby girl.”