Page 23 of All for You

“Travis?” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I realize she probably sees a look on my face, something I wasn’t quick enough to turn into indifference. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah,” I lie, clearing my throat. “Just thinking we should probably head back before my mother starts wondering where we are.”

Do I dare let her see more of me? The real me that craves someone to share the quiet moments with, not just heated ones inside a barn. My past is a minefield of betrayal and pain—first Dad leaving the family like he did. I know it wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t tell us about his heart condition. And then Amelia—well, it left me careful and guarded. But Rachel... She makes me want to tear down those walls brick by fucking brick.

“Travis, you’re doing that thing again where you go all silent,” She nudges me with her elbow. “If you’ve changed your mind about our… fake dating arrangement, just say so. I understand. I didn’t mean to tease you or give you mixed signals. I’m confused. I’m sorry.”

I almost laugh aloud. The horse is out of the barn on that one. If anything, I’m too far gone, tangled up in the what-ifs and maybes buzzing around my head like bees around a hive.

“Not a chance. Just thinking about tomorrow.”

Is that disappointment that just crossed her face? I want to ask, but she’s already leaving the barn, and I have to quick step to catch up.

We walk in silence, our boots crunching on the gravel path, punctuating the unspoken tension. I want her—in ways that aren’t part of any damn fake relationship narrative. As I glance sideways at her, with her profile set against the backdrop ofthe rolling hills, I know this is no longer just about convincing Mother, Karen, or anyone else.

“Travis?” Rachel’s voice is soft, almost hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely. “For today. I loved touring the ranch.”

“Rachel, I—” Words fail me. All I can offer is a sharp jerk of my head, hoping she understands that it’s more than just gratitude reflected in her gaze. What I see in her eyes mirrors my desires, the frightening thrill of wanting someone who might be both my salvation and my undoing.

Mother’s silhouette is unmistakable as we approach the house. I should have put my foot down when she informed me she was moving in. But how could I say no? After Dad passed she’d been living in the original family home all alone. And since I was also on my own, I thought the company might be nice. Yet now she sits on the porch, the rocking chair creaking with that annoying sound, a book resting in her lap—a poor disguise for her observant stare tracking our every move. I can feel the weight of her gaze like a damn judgment. My shoulders tense, bracing for the inevitable interrogation.

We bypass the house and go straight to Rachel’s car.

“Let me get that for you,” I offer and open the driver’s side door.

Up close, I see that Rachel’s car is older than I thought, probably held together with hope and spit more than anything else. But it got her from New York to Texas, so it can’t be all that bad.

Our arms brush together as she moves past me, and my skin tingles where it connects with hers. Even the slightest contact sets my nerves on fire. I want to pull her close, shield her from everything—Mother’s judgment, her clunky car, the whole damn world if I can.

“Thanks,” she says, slipping inside with a grace that belies the rust bucket she drives.

She sticks the key into the ignition and turns. Nothing. She tries again. The damn thing chokes and sputters in its desperation to come to life. When it dies, she slams her palm against the steering wheel, her composure cracking.

“Piece of shit.” She looks like she wants to cry.

And yet, she’s gorgeous when she’s all riled up. That flash of temper and the way her cheeks flush fans my affection for her. I want to kiss that frustration right off her lips, to feel the heat of her anger melt into passion.

I lean down to peer through the open window. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it towed to the garage tomorrow.”

“Travis, you don’t have to—” She begins, but I cut her off with a wave.

“Consider it done.”

She looks up at me, her eyes reflecting the setting sun’s copper glow. “Thank you... seriously.”

Christ, those eyes. They hold secrets, pain, and strength that call to me like nothing else. I want to dive into their depths, unravel every mystery and fix all her problems. “Anytime, honey. Besides, it gives me an excuse to see you again.”

“Is that so?”

That smile. It’s like a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and hungry for more. I want to trace it with my fingertips, taste it on my lips. “Damn straight.”

“Travis Kincaid, are you flirting with me?” Her tone is teasing, but I sense a flicker of hope underneath.

This woman flip flops like a fish. First she’s all in, then she puts on the brakes, before she’s pushing the bounds once more. I know she’s just as interested as I am, so what’s holding her back from jumping in with both feet?

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