Page 10 of All for You

“And you do?” I challenge.

Her smile turns enigmatic. “Not yet. But I intend to find out.”

“Careful, honey. You might not like what you discover.”

“Try me,” she whispers.

Before I can respond, Ruby’s shrill voice cuts through the moment. “Rachel! Stop flirting and get back to work!”

She sighs. “Guess I should get back to it. Wouldn’t want the boss thinking I’m slacking off.” She stands and starts to turn away.

Am I making a mistake? Even in a fake relationship, getting involved seems like asking for trouble. But I’ve already given my word, and I’m not one to back down.

Her jasmine scent lingers, tempting me to reach out and stop her. But I clench my fists, fighting the irrational urge to keep her at my side. “Rachel.”

She stops and looks back over her shoulder.

“Just so we’re clear—I’m doing you a favor. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy,” she replies, that ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin firmly in place.

She walks away, the sway of her hips unconsciously syncing with the throbbing in my pants.

Yeah, she’s trouble, all right.

But goddamn, regardless of what I just said, I’m looking forward to every second of it.

Chapter 3

Rachel

Ihustle through the throngs of people at the Bluebonnet Festival, my boots kicking up dust. The perfume of wildflowers mingles with the aromas of barbecue and roasting corn. Strings of lights hang from poles and tents, like stars dangling from the sky, illuminating faces painted with joy and excitement. This is my first festival in Cupid’s Creek. People have been talking about it for weeks. But underneath its vibrant energy, my nerves are a jumbled mess because I’m spending it with Mom and a pretend lover. She’s mine, and I love her, but I’m constantly on edge when she’s around. And she’s certain to have plenty to say about Travis.

The cheerful atmosphere is at odds with the anxiety in my stomach. I’ve faced down an abusive ex and started over in a new town across the county from where I was born, but somehow, she still has the power to make me feel like an insecure teenager. Part of me wants to turn and run, to escape back to the safety of my studio apartment in one of only two apartment buildings in town. But I can’t. I have to prove to her and myself that I am old enough and capable enough to build the life I want.

“Darling, there you are.” Mom’s voice slices through the hum of conversations and laughter as I finally reach her. She standspoised like a queen among her subjects, her blonde hair perfect even in the evening breeze while her sharp green eyes scan the crowd. Her tailored navy dress hugs a figure many women my age and younger envy, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. At sixty-five, she still commands attention from both sexes like she’s holding court. Her ruby-red lips curve into a tight smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

She arrived late this afternoon, after a long flight and then a two-hour drive and met me at my apartment. Fortunately, she had already booked a room at the small hotel, so I don’t have to worry about fighting over my bed for the few nights she’s in town. Unfortunately, she insisted we meet again at the festival after she had time to settle into her room and freshen up. I had hoped to take her to dinner and call it a night, but she insisted on the attending the festival, hoping it might give her insight as to why I landed here, of all places. Her words.

I swallow against the tightness in my throat, fighting the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

“Hey, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”

She scrunches up her face when a group of young children race by, screaming excitedly, stuffed toys tucked under their arms, sparklers in their hands, and their faces painted like butterflies and farm animals. “So, tell me about this man you’ve met. Travis, is it?”

I’ve rehearsed this moment countless times since yesterday. But now that it’s here, my mind is blank. “Uh, yeah. Travis, Travis Kincaid,” I stammer. “We met at the library.” I wince internally. Why didn’t I just tell her the truth? There’s nothing wrong with meeting at a café. People meet at coffee shops all the time in the city.

“Library? You?” Mom’s laugh is sharp, filled with disbelief. “And how long has this been going on?”

“A few weeks,” I lie again. It’s all too quick and fresh, and I’m digging a giant hole for myself.

“And what exactly do you see in him?”

I push my shoulders back, determined not to let her see how much her insinuated doubts affect me. I try to channel Sheila. “His honesty.” The one truth comes out comfortably this time. “He’s straightforward, doesn’t play games, and he’s hardworking.” He’s also damn sexy, but I leave that part out. She’ll see for herself soon enough.

“Sounds charming,” she says.

That’s when I spot him, and his broad shoulders easily parting the sea of locals. Our eyes lock, and butterflies swarm my stomach. Then, I mentally scold myself for the reaction. I lift a hand in greeting, and he returns the gesture with a warm smile that seems to reach deep into my chest and squeeze.

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