Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(83)

In fact, calling it a “thing” was starting to get on his goddamn nerves. He was closer to Georgie than anyone else in his life. There had been a moment yesterday on the high school baseball field when Travis had dropped every pretense and just let her see everything inside of him. His love for baseball, his sadness over losing the ability to play. He’d forgotten to mask those always-present insecurities and laid them bare . . . and he was still standing. Better than still standing, actually. He felt unburdened. Stronger. Like a better version of himself.

All because of this girl.

Now he was supposed to parade Georgie in front of some corporate assholes and say good-bye to her at the end of the night? A permanent good-bye?

Panic made Travis’s arm too heavy to lift and knock. Why had he decided to put a time limit on this . . . dammit, this thing with Georgie? Being alone had worked very well for him in the past. Answering to no one, keeping every short-lived relationship on his own terms. What he had with Georgie felt outside of his control, though. A flame that fed itself—and he had no fire extinguisher.

The front door of the house opened and Travis’s jaw almost hit the porch. This was not the girl who’d woken him from his self-induced mental coma all those weeks ago. Except for in the eyes. Yeah, she may be dressed to induce fantasies, but that classic Georgie authenticity shone back at him from a pair of green eyes. Unbelievable that her eyes were demanding his focus when she looked insanely hot. Her shoulders were completely bare in the dress, a skirt flaring out around her thighs. Thighs that seemed to stretch forever thanks to the high heels. She was sexy and guileless and there was no one like her.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “You, um . . . look very handsome. In that tux.”

Travis’s lower body responded so intensely to the husky quality of her voice, the proof she was attracted to him, that he could only stand there and breathe through it.

“You don’t like the dress,” she said, running her hands down the front of the dress. “I know I’m supposed to be the innocent small-town girl that has saved you from a life of debauchery, but they don’t really make nice enough dresses for that.”

“Georgie.”

“I tried one with a higher neckline, but I didn’t have the right bra, so the straps kept peeking out the sides and—”

“You look fucking perfect. You are perfect.”

The worry in her eyes melted away. “Thank you, Travis.” Her mouth popped open. “Is that a limo?”

“Yeah.” Travis stepped over the threshold and backed Georgie into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn’t stop walking until her ass bumped the entry table, rattling knickknacks and making her gasp. “Listen up,” he rasped against her mouth. “You stick by me all night.”

Her fingers curled in his jacket as if they couldn’t help it and he wished she would just rip it off and climb him, damn the dinner party. “What’s wrong?” She laid a tentative kiss on his chin. “Are you nervous?”

“No.” Travis turned his head and caught her mouth with a kiss. It was only meant to be a brief one, but her head fell back and he dove in, pressuring open her lips and rubbing their tongues together. “No, I’m just not sure what I was thinking. This plan. This . . . showing you off in order to get a job.” His thumbs stroked the hollows of her cheekbones. “I don’t like it. I didn’t think this far ahead.”

She was breathing with her eyes closed. “People do this kind of thing all the time.”

“Believe me, I know. That’s why it feels wrong with you.”

Those green eyes popped open. “I don’t understand.”

Travis searched for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t reveal this struggle he was having over tonight being the end. Georgie’s mouth distracted him, though, and all that would come out was the truth. “I don’t want you on display. I don’t want . . . us on display.”

The pulse in her neck visibly jumped. “Us?”

On the other side of the door, the limousine driver honked. Just a light tap, intended to let him know if they didn’t leave now, they wouldn’t make it on time. And thank God for that honk, right? He’d been about to tell Georgie he wanted their relationship to last beyond tonight. That he wanted it to be real. Wanted the right to kiss her, take her out, sit beside her at family dinners. Fuck her into the next stratosphere, take her jogging, show up when she performed at birthday parties, and, most importantly, tell other men to stay the hell away. Wanted the right to do it any time, any day of the week.

Ridiculous.

He didn’t know the first thing about being someone’s boyfriend. Jesus, though. “Boyfriend” sounded so much more accurate than “thing.” With her sweet body pressed up against him, possessiveness flowing in his blood, they were so far beyond a thing, he almost laughed. Almost. He was too unnerved by the ultimatum he was giving himself. He couldn’t just be her indefinite hookup—she deserved better than that. The prospect of letting her go made him feel submerged in quicksand, but she deserved someone who had a healthy outlook on commitment. Marriage. He was not that man. He would never, ever be that man.

Say good-bye tonight or ask Georgie for more. Those were his only two options.

“Travis?”

Taking one final sniff of her hair, he stepped away. “We should go.”