Page 37 of Holding On

“Did you eat?”

He looks uncomfortable for a moment and then says, “No. Haven’t had much of an appetite.”

I end up making us both small two-egg omelets with sharp cheddar cheese, hash brown potatoes, and spinach. Only then does he spy the open overnight bag on the sofa half-packed.

“You not around this weekend?” The disappointment in his voice should have been thrilling, but all it does is make me feel worse. I collect my thoughts before I begin an explanation, trying to touch on some truths.

“I’m off to Boston.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I do have friends from school in Boston.” This is true. Katie lives there. “Katie Strong. Haven’t seen her since undergraduate school.”

“Got plans?”

“Just hanging around,” I say, handing him a piece of toast. I have yet to be able to time things well in the kitchen.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly.

My heart starts to beat hard, and my legs feel like they’re filled with water. I glance up at him, determined to stare back with whatever answer I’m forced to give.

“Are you seeing someone?”

I’m almost light-headed with relief. “No, absolutely not.” I glance down at my plate. “I mean, I broke up with someone recently—three months ago—but I should have done it earlier. He was nice, but not—”

I don’t know when he shifts his weight or when I realize he’s leaning into me, but suddenly he slides an arm around my waist, pulls me in, and then his lips crush mine, soft and powerful, and he kisses me until my legs feel like they’re going to give out.

He pulls away, but not before I feel the quiver of his mouth and my breath escaping from his lips.

I’m left gasping. “God, Travis,” is all I can say, and he takes it all the wrong way.

Eyes widening, he starts apologizing. “I’m sorry. It’s just that last night—”

I grab his head, stand on my tiptoes, and bring us together again, letting him know how right he was to make that move.

This time, I’m the one taking in his breath, and I feel the counter behind me shudder when his hand comes down hard and he grips the edge.

He tries to say something, but I just kiss him again. It’s like I’ve been thirsty my whole life and am just now gulping water for the first time. I can feel his arousal against my groin—a hard shaft straining against his jeans.

Pulling back, he shakes his head slowly while I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

The pulse in his neck beats fast. He takes a deep breath and smiles. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that to happen.”

“Really?” My voice comes out in a whisper.

“Really. I’ve wanted to do that before I even knew how to.”

There’s a knock on the door. I pat my hair and ignore Travis’s stare.

Standing in the doorway is Nic Silvano, Finn’s business partner. Mr. Boston is how I think of him right now. I’ve heard so much about him and we video conferenced yesterday.

He’s a cool guy, and by “cool,” I mean something’s up with him. There’s a wall there only Finn can climb over. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he does. He’s just aloof. But from what I’ve heard from Jackson, Bryce, and Mateus over the last week, he’s quite the action hero. Even Luke chimed in with his eyebrows, and he doesn’t even work with him.

Nic is a mysterious man.

My snap judgment isn’t hard to justify when he’s standing at my door in a navy blue pinstripe suit with a weird purple handkerchief in the breast pocket. He’s tall and slender, dashing really, and he seems out of place on the coast in a fishing town.

Nic throws Travis a nod, and they shake hands—another thing to note because Travis hugs everyone. That miniwall is built by Nic.