Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(31)

Whatever he saw in the bag made his brow furrow. Georgie would put a hundred dollars on it being the panties with the golden rose pattern, because such was life. Honestly, he already knew about Dale, though, so what was a little more humiliation at this point? Instead of panties, he pulled out a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine instead, which she did not remember agreeing to buy. Boutique Tracy strikes again. Travis turned the glossy magazine around, the words “Have Sex Like a Porn Star” emblazoned across the top in bright neon pink.

“Doing a little studying?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer, an unwelcome awareness seeming to creep over him. “Why are you dressed up? What’s the occasion?”

“Why can’t life be the occasion?” She quickly waved a hand. “Sorry. I’ve been in a potpourri-scented girl palace for an hour. I’m high on pheromones.”

Travis, silent and frowning at her legs, was clearly still waiting for an answer. She most certainly did not owe him one, but it wouldn’t hurt to walk away on friendly terms. “I went into Glitter Threads to apologize to Boutique Tracy, and she dressed me up in exchange for a sea salt caramel mocha, okay? And . . . I like it. She told me my legs aren’t actually short, which I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve been kind of obsessing about.”

“Didn’t I tell you your legs were—”

“Normal. You said they were normal.” She turned away from his deepening scowl and closed the trunk on her purchases. “I’m late for a date. See you around, Travis.”

When she moved to open her driver’s-side door, Travis’s hand appeared above her head and smacked down to keep it closed. “Hold on there, baby girl. We’re not done.”

Georgie spun on Travis, surprised to find him so close. “Um. Wh-why is that?”

“Look. About the other night at your place. I acted like a dick.” The sincerity in his eyes held her still. Still and trying not to swoon into the gutter, where she would eventually be carried away to the ocean. “I’m sorry, okay? You can stop punishing me for it now.”

Confusion slipped in. “How am I punishing you?”

Travis pushed off the car and crossed his arms. “For a while there I couldn’t walk two feet without tripping over you. Now nothing.” A vein stood out on his temple. “What’s this about a date?”

Georgie didn’t know where to lend her focus. The fact that Travis actually apologized to her, or him noticing her absence and appearing to dislike it. Or his growly bear attitude. Him caring enough to question her at all seemed surreal. “You didn’t seem to want me around.”

“Is that how it seemed?” His cheek twitched. Twice. “Huh.”

The alarm on her cell phone started to chime in her bag, signaling that she had only fifteen minutes before her lunch date with Pete. Truthfully, she was grateful for the escape. Life was not making sense right now. She had to be reading into Travis’s apology the wrong way. He didn’t miss her. Stop dreaming, Georgie. There was a perfectly nice gentleman waiting for her. One who’d never treated her like a rebellious child or disappointed her. Yes, she needed to douse the growing flame of excitement over Travis finally seeming to give a rat’s behind about her and vamoose. Before she got any ideas about fanning it.

“I’m late.” It took an effort to turn away from Travis’s scrutiny, but she managed to twist and open the driver’s-side door. Unfortunately, Travis stepped closer to Georgie at that exact moment and the door rammed hard into his shoulder. He hissed a breath. Her heart stopped beating. She spun back around—and found Travis clutching his right shoulder. The shoulder. The one he’d torn the rotator cuff on, followed by multiple surgeries and eventually being cut from the Hurricanes.

“Oh my God.” Had she just inadvertently hurt him all over again? “Oh . . . oh my God. Is it okay?” Her hands were shaking as she reached for his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I—I . . .”

Travis shook his head but didn’t push her hands away. “It’s fine. Just a twinge.” He looked up, seeming to realize how upset she was. “This thing is pinned and screwed down in so many places, a wrecking ball couldn’t break it. Just needs a little ice.”

“You’re supposed to ice an injury right away.” She looked around. “Where’s your truck?”

“I walked.”

“Come on.” She took his good elbow and guided him to the passenger side, opening the door. “It was my fault. I’ll drive you.”

“No, it wasn’t . . .” He trailed off when her phone alarm went off again—chime-chime-chime—a crease forming between his brows. “You’ll cancel the date?”

“Obviously.” Impatient to fix the harm she’d done, Georgie poked Travis until he gave in and folded his big body into her passenger seat. “I’ll never make it now.” She whipped out her phone and fired off a quick apology to Pete. “Let’s go.”

Travis stretched his long legs and fastened the seat belt with a click. If Georgie didn’t know better, she’d think the injury had relaxed him. He dispelled that notion with a long-suffering sigh. “If you insist, Georgie.”





Chapter Ten


Under the guise of watching passing scenery, Travis couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at the reflection of Georgie’s legs. Jesus Christ. Shit had definitely taken a turn. He’d thought Georgie making his dick hard the other night had been a fluke. Not anymore. This off-limits attraction was insanely real, and weirdly, it had gotten worse during their separation. What the hell kind of sense did that make? Out of sight was supposed to mean out of mind. Yet the other night, he’d been cooking a steak on the stove and caught himself staring into space, remembering the fringe of her jean shorts.