Page 12 of All for You

Can I smack my forehead now?

Speaking of public displays of affection—how far should we go? His hand is already warm on my back, a little too low and intimate. See? I’m already so comfortable with his touch I didn’t notice his palm rubbing up and down my back. His arm was on my shoulder a moment ago. And yet, I find myself leaning into his muscular body, wanting more.

Mom’s eyes narrow, her lips pursing as she studies me. “Dear, you look flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

I shift uncomfortably. “I’m fine. Travis just has that effect on people.”

His thumb traces small circles through the fabric of my shirt, sending shivers across my skin. “Only the special ones.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Careful there, cowboy.” My skin tingles under his touch, and my pulse speeds up whenever he looks at me.

While Mom watches with a keen eye, he shifts so we’re facing each other. His brings up one hand and caresses my cheek, slowly guiding my face toward his. His gaze roams over my features, intense and searching.

Before I can muster a protest—not that I would—his lips brush against mine—a touch as light as a whisper yet blazing with heat.

A maelstrom of sensations floods my body, heading straight to the tips of my limbs, curling my toes. Kissing wasn’t part of my carefully constructed plan for the evening. I had considered every other detail, from the practicality of heels to the simplicity of handholding. But this? This sends my thoughts scattering like tumbleweeds in a windstorm.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to dance with mine, and a soft moan escapes me, swallowed by his eager mouth.

I don’t know when or how it happens, but I discover my fingers tangled in the silky hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body seeps into mine as we press chest to chest, thigh to thigh, igniting a spark that flares bright and spreads from my core to my fingertips. Part of me wants to run, to hide from the intensity of the feeling coursing through me. But a larger part, the part I’ve been trying to silence, longs to stay right here in Travis’s arms. Where I feel safe.

I forget all about the festival.

I forget all about Mom—until she clears her throat.

Travis pulls back slightly, his breath hot against my lips. “That was…”

Holy shit, this cowboy can fucking kiss. I blink rapidly before swaying back into him. My heart thunders in my chest, threatening to burst free. I struggle to find words, and my mind is hazy with desire. “I... Travis... wow.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound sending tremors through my body. “It’s just a kiss, honey.”

I swat his chest playfully, trying to regain my composure and not become embarrassed. How could he brush it off like that?Justa kiss? No, that was a promise, a glimpse of something I convinced myself I don’t deserve. The practical side of my brain screams‘this is all for show,’but my traitorous heart whispers…‘what if?’

Travis’s lips on mine felt so real, so right that for a moment, lost in the warmth of his hands and tenderness of his mouth, I’d forgotten about our arrangement.

But reality comes crashing back, leaving me dizzy and conflicted. I would love to believe this could be more than pretend, but fear holds me back. What if I’m reading too much into it? What if I’m setting myself up for heartbreak all over again? Maybe he’s just good at faking it.

“You are quite the pair,” Mom remarks dryly, eyeing Travis with newfound respect—or is it calculation?

I tense at her scrutiny, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. Her approval should make me happy, but instead, it makes me want to run. I’ve spent a long time trying to escape her expectations, and now here I am, right back where I started. Only this time, it’s all based on a lie.

I know that look all too well—the wheels are turning in her head. If she’s gotten past the farm bit and the age difference,she’s already planning my future. I want to scream that it isn’t real, that she has no right to meddle in my life even if there could be something genuine with Travis. But the words stick in my throat, choking me.

Her gaze continues to flick between us as her lips curve into a sly smile. “Well, aren’t you two just as sweet as peach pie. Isn’t that what they say in the south? Travis, I must say, you’ve certainly charmed my daughter.”

A knot forms in my stomach at her words. How many times have I heard that tone before? That mix of approval and possessiveness makes it seem like I’m a prized mare being auctioned off to the highest bidder. I don’t need her approval.

Travis’s hand finds mine, and I welcome his comforting touch. “Ma’am, I assure you, the charm works both ways.”

His words thrill me, even as I remind myself it’s all part of the act. But oh, how I suddenly wish it were true. Travis’s steady presence beside me feels like an anchor in a storm. Just by leaning into him, I draw strength from his heat.

She stares hard at me but doesn’t comment.

My cheeks burn, and I desperately search for a way to change the subject. “Mom, have you tried the funnel cakes yet? They’re simply divine.”

“Now, Rachel.” She tuts, wagging a finger. “You know I’m watching my figure.” She looks me up and down, eyes narrowing on my waist and hips. “Unlike some people who seem to have forgotten the importance of maintaining appearances.”

The familiar sting of her words makes me wince. As always, her critique cuts deep, reopening old wounds. I shrink as years of insecurity and self-doubt rush in. I should defend myself like Sheila practiced with me, but at heart, I’m still seeking her approval.

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