Page 2 of All for You

“I, um, just don’t like him,” I mutter, followed by a shaky laugh I try to disguise behind a fake cough. “Besides, he’s much older than me.” At least ten years, if not more. Not that it matters. Not to me anyway.

“Hogwash. He’s younger than me. I’d give him a go, but he’s not me he’s interested in me.”

“I think you’re imagining things.”

“Girl, you’re as stubborn as a mule. He comes in here nearly every day, sits at the same table, in the same chair, orders the same thing, and yet you act like you don’t notice him. I don’t get it.” She shakes her head and pushes away from the counter.

“I don’t notice him.” The denial sounds feeble even to my own ears. I noticed that man the minute he walked through the door. It was the one and only time I’ve stumbled while carrying an armful of dishes. They nearly hit the floor that day. But by the time my tongue returned to my mouth, I had things back under control. At least until he sat in my section. I made a deal with Daisy, the high-school student who works here part-time, to cover that table for me—indefinitely.

Sheila snorts. “Right.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Maybe I, uh, do notice him… sometimes.” I hate how flustered I sound. I glance over my shoulder through the cutout into the dining area. From here I can a direct line of sight to the corner booth where Travis sits, looking all broody and inaccessible. The man is gorgeous in a rough, rode all-night sort of way.

“You’ve heard the stories about him, right?” Sheila joins me, leaning closer, her voice hushed as we peer through the half-opened shutters. “His family has been here for generations. He’s loaded but got dumped by his wife not long after she moved here. He went away to school but when his father passed, he moved back home with the wife in tow to take over the ranch. No kids. He used to be such a nice, easy-going kid himself. Unlike his brothers and sister who couldn’t wait to leave town, he always loved Cupid’s Creek. But folks say he’s meaner than a rattlesnake now.”

I’ve discovered that rumors spread quickly in a small town. And they grow in each circle until it’s difficult to distinguish truth from embellishment. You can’t hide here like you can in the city. Everybody knows your business. Everybody wants toshare their advice. And there’s been lots to hear about Travis. Mostly that he’s tied up tighter than a drum now. Doesn’t hang out with friends, doesn’t date. Just works his family’s ranch. But something about him makes me want to peel back those layers to discover the man beneath the myth. And given the situation that brought me to Cupid’s Creek, I’m confused about why I think that way.

I shrug. “Looks can be deceiving.”

It’s easy to watch Travis from a distance. My heart pumps wildly when the light catches the silver threads weaved through his dark hair, giving him a distinguished look that only intensifies his imposing figure. He’s tall, over six feet for sure, and has the body of a man half his age. His jaw is set, and there’s something about the downward turn of his mouth that makes me want to smooth away the deep lines between his brows. The man shows his pain clear as day. He’s not mean. But he’s been hurt.

And I can’t go there.

He is danger personified. A walking, breathing reminder of every bad decision I’ve ever made when it comes to the male species. Yet I can’t look away. My body hums with like a live wire, drawn to him like a compass finding true north. It scares me how quickly and easily he’s managed to stir up feelings I thought well buried after my last relationship.

“On second thought, maybe you should keep your distance,” Sheila says as she straightens and smooths down her apron.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Though not for the reason she means.

Travis is a warning of everything I ran from—a man who overshadowed me and made me feel small and insignificant. Not worthy to be in his circles. No good enough. Yet, I’m drawn to him whenever he enters the Bluebonnet Café. My skin prickles with awareness. My body tingles as if recognizing a truth mymind refuses to acknowledge. I know I’m playing with fire, but God help me; I’m starting to crave the burn.

And that scares me.

The shrill ring of my cell phone cuts through the turmoil. Glancing at the caller ID, panic shoots through me. Mom. Crap.

I hold up a finger. “Be right back.” I retreat to the corner, my hand shaky as I lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Rachel!” The overly cheery timbre of Mom’s voice hurts my ear. I don’t even get a chance to say hello before she jumps into the reason for her call. “Guess what? I’m coming to visit, and I’ll be there tomorrow. I can only stay a couple of days, but I’ll be there by noon.”

What?

My stomach clenches, a knot of anxiety tightening with each word. She would never leave New York to visit a small town anywhere, never mind one across the country. The woman thrives on big city life. She thinks she’s a Rockefeller. Even Dad got tired of her spending every dollar he had to keep up the image, that he bailed when I was a kid and never looked back. Although he left me too, I don’t blame him. He never measured up in her eyes. Just like she never fails to make me feel inadequate. My makeup is too much, it’s not enough. I’m too heavy; I’m too thin. My hair’s too long, or it’s too short. I need a better job, a better boyfriend. Why am I not married? I’m never good enough. I left New York to escape my ex and the constant stream of nit-picking. But because I do love her and didn’t want her to worry, I told her where I’d landed. I had hoped the onslaught of judgment and expectations wouldn’t follow if she couldn’t see me.

I was wrong.

“Darling? Did you hear me? I’m coming for a visit.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah. That’s... great, Mom.” I close my eyes and breathe deeply in through my nose.

“I’m flying into Austin. I’ll rent a car at the airport, so you don’t have to worry about picking me up. I just need you to text me your address. Why did you have to move to some small hole-in-the-wall town all the way across the country?”

“It’s beautiful here, Mom. And why are you coming all the way here, to Cupid’s Creek?” I’m sure she’ll hate it.

“Because I miss you. And I want to see you. You’ve hardly called since you up and left everything you’ve ever know behind, including Matthew.”

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about him.”

She plows on, oblivious to the tightness in my voice. “Have you at least met any interesting men yet? And when are you going to find something to do besides waitressing? There’s got to be better jobs than that. And your hair—have you had a haircut recently? Please tell me they have a decent hair salon there. Do you at least try to wear makeup, sweetheart? Because you know you can’t catch a man without fixing yourself up?—”

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