Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(58)

Georgie wanted to argue, but he winked to let her know he was fine, and she relaxed.

“It’s my dad who got to me,” he said after a moment. “Who . . . gets to me. He made sure I would hear his voice in my head long past the point I should.”

“What does it say?”

He exhaled. “That I’m not as good as I think I am. That I’m a fake.”

She pressed her lips together until they turned white, then let them fill with pink again. “There was nothing fake about the way you slid into home and knocked that ball out of Ted Church’s glove to win the second game of the Series. You’re a part of history. Some people just can’t stand knowing they’re not even a footnote.”

Warmth spread in his stomach. How did she know exactly what he needed to hear? Not some tired platitude, but a real, tangible thing he could recall in his memory and reinterpret through her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Do you think I’m silly and selfish for wanting more from my pretty amazing and semifunctional family when you got nothing from yours?”

“No.” He reached across the table and twined their fingers together without thinking. “No, baby girl. I don’t. You have to fight for what you deserve. What you want is no more or less important than what anyone else wants.”

Georgie studied him for a moment. “When I walked into your apartment that first day, you told me coming back here as a supposed failure made you just like your father.” She shook her head. “You not only tell me but make me feel important . . . How can you think you don’t have the potential to be a hero, on or off the field?”

This time Travis did change the subject. He’d heard a lot of empty idioms throughout his career in sports. The kind of motivation that ends up on a poster in a high school locker room. What she’d said, though, made him think. He might have left his hovel and rejoined society, but part of him had remained in the dark. Every moment spent with Georgie brought him a little further into the light, however.

They talked long after their coffees dwindled, Georgie telling him about plans for a new advertising campaign for her business and a new zombie birthday party theme she was considering. In turn, Travis told her about the time in college his team’s bus had broken down on the way to a game and they’d had their engine serviced by cult members. It felt good to make her laugh. Felt good to laugh with her. By the time he walked her to the exit an hour had passed and he was overdue back at work.

Out in the sunlight, she smiled up at him in a sort of breathless way, a hand restless at her throat. And for the first time since Stephen told Travis that Georgie was in love with him, he actually wondered if it could be true. Did Georgie love him? If so, he should not be spending this kind of time with her. He’d hurt her when they’d both gotten what they wanted—and hurting this girl would kill him.

Travis opened his mouth, intending to tell Georgie what Stephen had told him, praying she would deny it. Right? He didn’t want her in love with him. At all.

“Do I look smitten enough?” Georgie said with a cocked eyebrow, before he could speak. “Our friend is snapping away across the street.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Idiot. Of course she wasn’t in love with him. It was just for the camera, same as it had been since their arrangement started. “I, uh . . . wasn’t sure he’d waited.”

A beat passed. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He wanted to. Her mouth looked ripe and incredible, and she would taste like caramel and Georgie. Why did it suddenly feel wrong to kiss her so it would be immortalized in a picture? “Yeah,” he rasped, leaning down and pausing the barest distance above her lips. “Yeah.”

Georgie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, cutting a sidelong glance along the street. “Travis?”

Finally, he dropped his mouth to hers and inhaled, pulling deeply on her mouth, barely stopping himself from giving her his tongue. Claiming her. With a serious effort, he eased back, steadying Georgie on her feet. “When am I going to see you again?”

“Um . . .” She blinked. “Will you come to family dinner on Sunday?”

Remembering the vow he’d made to himself to do more to help Georgie, Travis nodded. “I’ll be there.”

She smiled up at him and he bit down on his tongue to keep from kissing her again. “What about you? Any more progress with the network?”

It was proof that his relationship with Georgie was bordering on dangerous that he’d completely forgotten to tell her about the latest call from his agent. He’d totally lost sight of why they were fake dating in the first place. “The head of the network, Kelvin, invited us to dinner at his house. Next week, in Old Westbury.” He watched her face transform with cautious excitement. “That probably means I’m the top candidate—”

“Oh my God, Travis. And this could be the final test.” Her wide eyes turned unreadable. “Things are changing for me already. For the better. If you get the job . . . we wouldn’t have to do this anymore.”

“Have to.” His nod was jerky. “Yeah.” Christ, he needed to get his head together. This dread churning in his stomach was not a good sign. “I’ll let you know the details about dinner,” he said, laying a final peck on her cheek and backing away. “Bye, Georgie.”

“Bye, Travis,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed across the street, scarf clutched to her chest. “You did it, by the way!” she said—a little too brightly?—giving him one final look before turning to leave. “I’m in a great mood!”