Brown-Eyed Girl (Travises 4)

“I think it did.” His hand went to the back of my neck, kneading the small muscles gently, easing the ache into pleasure. It was all I could do not to arch and purr like a cat.

I tried to summon more indignation. “And what do you mean, you could tell I didn’t have experience? Did I do something wrong? Was I a disappointment? Was I —”

“Yeah,” Joe said, “it’s a hell of a disappointment when I come so hard, I see stars. It was such a downer that I’ve been chasing after you ever since.” He braced his hands on either side of me, gripping the edges of the bookshelf.

“It’s over now,” I managed to say. “I think we should chalk it up to – to a spontaneous moment —” I broke off with an incoherent sound as he leaned forward to kiss my neck.

“It can’t be over when it never even started,” he said against my skin. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, brown-eyed girl: You’re going to answer the phone when I call. You’re going to let me take you out, and we’re going to do some talking. There’s too much we don’t know about each other.” He found a pulse, and his lips lingered on the tiny, rampant rhythm. “So we’re going to take it slow. I’ll get to know you. You’ll get to know me. And then it’s up to you.”

“It’s too late,” I managed to say in between shivering breaths. “Sleeping together ruined the getting-to-know-you part.”

“It’s not ruined. It’s just a little more complicated.”

If I agreed to go out with him again, I was asking for heartbreak. Begging for it. “Joe, I don’t think —”

“No decisions right now,” he said, his head lifting. “We’ll talk later. For now…” He retreated a step and held out his hand. “Let’s go back out there and have dinner. I want a chance to prove that I can behave around you.” His hot gaze chased over me. “But I swear, Avery Crosslin… you don’t make it easy.”

Dinner was an elaborate six-course affair, with a piano-and-violin duet playing in the background. The tent had been decorated in black and white, with white phalaenopsis orchid centerpieces, all of it a perfect setting for the art auction. I sat with Joe at a table for ten, along with Jack, Ella, and a few assorted friends.

Joe was in a relaxed good mood, at times casually resting his arm at the back of my chair. The group was chatty and animated, making small talk with the ease of people who did it often, who knew exactly how to keep the conversation fluid. As the Travis brothers exchanged quips and good-natured jabs, it was obvious that they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

Joe recounted a recent road trip he’d taken to do photos for a Texas magazine’s “bucket list” issue, featuring activities and places that no Texan should miss during his life, among them to go two-stepping at Billy Bob’s in Fort Worth, eat chicken-fried steak topped with white gravy at a particular diner in San Antonio, and visit Buddy Holly’s grave in Lubbock. Ella volunteered that she didn’t like white gravy on her chicken-fried steak, at which point Jack half covered his face. “She eats it dry,” he confessed, as if it were blasphemy.

“It’s not dry,” Ella protested, “it’s fried. And if you ask me, battering and deep-frying cube steak and drowning it in biscuit gravy is the worst —”

Gently, Jack laid his fingers over her mouth. “Not in public,” he cautioned. As he felt the shape of her grin, he promptly removed his hand and kissed her.

“I’ve eaten chicken-fried steak for breakfast,” Joe volunteered. “With two fried eggs on the side.”

Jack gave him an approving glance. “That there’s a real man,” he told Ella.

“That there is a cardiovascular tragedy waiting to happen,” she retorted, making her husband grin.

Later, as Ella and I walked to the restroom together, I remarked, “There is no shortage of testosterone at that table.”

Ella smiled. “It’s the way they were raised. The oldest brother, Gage, is just the same. But don’t worry: Despite all the brawn and bluster, Travis men are pretty enlightened.” With a rueful grin, she added, “By Texas standards.”

“So Jack helps with things like household chores and changing the diapers?”

“Oh, absolutely. But there are certain man-rules, like opening the door, or holding your chair, that are never going to change. And since Joe is obviously interested in you, I’ll tell you right now, don’t bother trying to split the check when he takes you out. He’d sooner commit hari-kari with a steak knife.”

“I don’t know if Joe and I will go out,” I said cautiously. “It’s probably better if we don’t.”

“I hope you do. He’s a terrific guy.”

We exited the tent and walked along the flowered pathway to the house. “Would you say he’s a player?” I asked. “A heartbreaker?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” After a pause, Ella said frankly, “Women like Joe, and Joe likes women, so… yes, there have been one or two who wanted more of a commitment than he was willing to give. Let’s face it, a lot of women would snap him up right away just because of the Travis name.”

“I’m not one of them.”

“I’m sure that’s one of the reasons Joe likes you.” We stopped beside an outdoor steel sculpture made of thick plates almost fifteen feet high, its edges curved and shaped in organic lines. Ella’s voice lowered. “The Travises set quite a store by normalcy. They want to be part of the real world, experience it like everyone else, which is practically impossible at their level. Most of all they want to be treated like regular people.”