Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(61)

“All right.” Stephen stomped into the dining room and sat to the right of Morty, Kristin floating to the chair beside her husband and perching with a beaming grin. “Bethany, you called this dinner. What’s your gripe?”

“Who says there has to be a gripe?” Vivian protested from the opposite head of the table, wineglass poised in midair. “Can we not exchange pleasantries first? Your sister wore a dress, Stephen—tell her she looks nice.”

Georgie hid her face behind a napkin. “Oh God. Mom.”

Stephen sighed. “You look nice, Georgie. Yellow suits you.”

“Well, it’s no clown suit . . .” Morty started, laughing at his own sarcasm.

The rosy glow faded from Georgie’s cheeks and Travis frowned. Before he could say something in her defense—what, he didn’t know—Stephen spoke up again. “Is it this women’s club that’s got you dressing up? Or him?”

“It’s not a women’s club.” Bethany drilled her brother with a look. “We don’t meet to do makeovers, you moron. We’re not twelve.”

“I’m just saying, Georgie, you were fine in the overalls and the . . .” Stephen wiggled his fingers above his head, making reference to Georgie’s missing messy bun. “Seems like someone should like you for yourself, not how you look.”

Travis fixed Stephen with a look. “I liked her in the overalls just fine.”

Several beats passed. “Why am I not in this club?” Vivian said brightly, breaking the tension. “Am I too old?”

Morty cut into the roast with gusto, sawing off slivers of meat. “You’re not too old. You’re too happy.”

Bethany centered herself with a long breath. “We’re not doing makeovers and we’re not throwing darts at pictures of male genitalia—”

Vivian laugh-snorted. “Bethany Castle.”

“Actually, I just signed up me, Rosie, and Georgie for a Tough Mudder.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Kristin piped up. “I want to go.”

Stephen grunted and started the passing of the side dishes. “Explain.”

Bethany sat up straighter. “It’s a five-mile run, including an obstacle course. A team-building exercise. In the mud.”

Georgie paled. “We barely made it through Zumba, you complete lunatic.”

“Eh, we’ll be fine.” Bethany lifted her wineglass. “Next Friday in Bethpage. You’re all welcome to come and cheer us on.”

“I’ll be there,” Travis said automatically. If Georgie was going to run five miles and jump over walls in the summer heat, she could get hurt. Or dehydrated. Thinking about it almost turned his appetite. When he glanced up from spooning potatoes onto his plate, he found Stephen and Morty glowering at him. “What? She could twist an ankle or . . .” The room fell silent, knives and forks ceasing their clacking against plates. Jesus. Pull it together, man. He passed the bowl in his hand and dug into the now massive mountain of potatoes that he’d apparently been piling on for a full minute. “You never know what kind of a medical setup they have at these things,” he finished gruffly.

“You’re not doing it,” Stephen grunted at Kristin, before softening his tone. “Please.”

Kristin firmed her chin. “We’ll see.”

“Discord,” Morty droned. “Bethany, your club is creating discord.”

“It’s not just her club,” Georgie said. “We started it together.”

“You’re going to follow what your older siblings do, though. It’s up to them to set a good example for the youngest.”

“She’s twenty-three,” Bethany pointed out. “If this were Victorian England, she would be classified as an old maid.”

Georgie’s laugh lacked its usual sparkle. “You could have left that part out.”

Travis was caught between bites, listening to the conversation unfold around him. It had been years since he’d been in the midst of the Castle banter, but their dismissive attitude toward Georgie was more meaningful to him now that he knew how it affected her. She had changed. Grown up. Why the hell didn’t they notice?

Frowning, Travis stabbed his fork back into his potatoes.

“Now that all the delicacies have been passed and plated . . .” Bethany cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about the reason we’re all here. I want to preface this by saying no one is going to like it. Just strap in—we’ll get through it.”

Georgie set down her fork and crossed her legs, drawing Travis’s attention. The yellow hem of her dress crept up, almost to her hip, the muscle of her thigh flexing . . . and his mouth went dry. But her body language said she was preparing for battle on her sister’s behalf and that realization let loose a stream of chemicals into his bloodstream. Georgie getting ready for an argument put him on alert, because they’d become teammates. Hadn’t they?

“Is this about heading up your own flip?” Stephen drawled.

“Yes.”

“What?” Morty bowed his head. “God give me strength.”

“I’ve asked Stephen several times for a chance to run my own renovation, start to finish, and he has declined. So I’ve decided to purchase my own property and proceed outside the confines of Brick & Morty.”