Page 47 of The Exception

The back of her neck was on fire. Sure, she was used to being the best at everything she set out to do, but challenging herself like that usually meant surrounding herself with other people who were climbing the same ladder. It was competitive, not exactly an environment where you received a lot of overt praise. This was new.

“I wasn’t fishing,” she said.

“And I wasn’t biting. I’m being truthful, Sonya. Look, like I said, I haven’t always made the best decisions in life. I’ve cleaned up, sure, but it’s been humbling, learning from you. Watching you just inherently know the best way to do something, whether it’s talking to a patient’s family or coming up with a treatment plan that takes all of their personal factors into account. And tonight, getting a little glimpse of what it’s like when you let loose. That’s been good too.”

She did feel loose right then—like all of the structure and routines that kept her running at peak performance had been seated at a different table.

Since Trav had shown up on her floor, she’d started to notice all of the ways she’d been running on auto-pilot. She thought she’d achieved that sort of nirvana state in both her work and her life where she had little left to learn. She’d been ready to just sit back and reap the rewards of all of her hard work, but from the very moment they met, Trav had challenged her in a way she hadn’t realized she was missing. Though she would go to her grave defending that she was right on that plane, the lesson hadn’t been lost on her. Maybe there could be more than one right.

She dragged her eyes over his face. That comfortable, genuine smile of his that looked totally at ease, and she realized thatthisSonya—the one Trav saw and pointed out as different—might be the real her screaming to get out.

“I think maybe you’re a good and bad influence on me in that regard,” she said.

“Well, look at that.” He winked. “We’re a great team in and out of work.”

She swore he was flirting. But who had started it?

And should she stop it? Was that what the real Sonya really wanted to do? Or was that what the Sonya that everyone knew would do?

When he leaned closer and his cologne drifted into her space, she knew it sure as hell wasn’t the former.

She studied him for a moment, her teeth pressed into her lip, then she reached up and popped the button open at his collar the way she’d imagined.

She slapped a hand over her own gaping mouth.

Trav’s eyes bulged while she laughed from behind her fingers. He caught her wrist, pulling it away. “What was that for?”

“We’re letting loose, like you said.”

His tongue swept over his lower lip, then he set his drink down and brought his other hand to the back of her head. She felt a small tug, and the braids she’d pulled back cascaded down around her shoulders. Her jaw dropped as Trav tossed her jeweled barrette on the bar, smiling.

Her spit was suddenly in a ball in the back of her throat, her chest flushed. What wasthat?

Her heart pounded worse than the night he’d shown up at the gym and she’d challenged him to a treadmill race. She still thought about that night weeks later.

“Sonya…” Trav’s voice was a low growl and his boyish smile had completely melted away. In its place was a serious look that had her brain conjuring a fantasy it had been dancing around since they’d met. She never let herself entertain it fully, but there it was, bursting through her alcohol-weakened defense—Soldier Trav. Stern, strong, and capable. She’d been intrigued by the little glimpses she’d caught so far, always in such complete opposition to the goofy smartass he was most of the time. But sometimes his eyes flashed with something different. Something she couldn’t help but want to poke at. Something that intimidated her in the best way.

Which one of those versions of himself manifested in intimate moments like the one she dreamed about? Would he laugh and play or was he the type to save up all of that strength and discipline, let it build until it exploded?

And what about that trouble switch? Did he mean it was permanently turned off or just better controlled?

“Hey.” Trav pressed two fingers under her chin, tipping her face, and she realized she’d been full-on staring at his mouth while she contemplated that. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”

He swallowed thickly and, though she knew he just meant he should drive her home, she couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes had gone equally hazy. And he couldn’t even blame it on booze.

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s late.” And if she stayed there any longer, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t be inclined to find out the answer to one or more of those questions.

Trav settled the tab, insisting on covering the whole thing. She felt bad about letting him pay since he was living on a part time salary while he finished school, but he didn’t want to hear it when she’d argued.

He helped her into the passenger side of his SUV and she watched him take his time rounding the hood. He paused in front of the vehicle, running a hand through his hair, then over his mouth. Finally, he took a deep breath before finally climbing in behind the wheel.

She realized she was sitting as still as a statue, all of her muscles tense, and she forced herself to relax. She was just getting a ride home from her friend. Nothing to get weird about.

But what if she invited him in?

Holy what?Where had that thought come from?

Trav was not her type. She’d learned to stay away from messy hair and mischievous eyes when she was still young and stupid, but damn if this wasn’t the best night she could remember. Had she ever had this much fun with Marcus? Had she ever spent an entire conversation staring at Marcus’s mouth without realizing it?

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