Page 16 of Fashionista's Playbook

Travis is nothing like Steven.My history with my brother-in-law and the tension with my sister was the very reason I had held out on going home—and found this job. So at least Steven being an asshole his entire life brought me one thing good.

“Yeah.” Travis glanced at me his dark eyes hopeful.

“Too bad you didn’t pick up that bedroom set.”

His smile spread quickly and brightly. “Who said I didn’t?”

“You didn’t? I was kidding.”

He massaged the side of his neck, cracked it to the side. “Nah, I needed it anyway and it’ll look good in that room.”

Softening a little I eyed him. “You were going to use it to butter me up to housesit for you.”

“Maybe.” The wry grin was back. “It’ll make my life so much easier.”

“You should just talk to him about it.”

“You got any siblings?”

“I do. A sister.” Not that I’d had a relationship with her since high school. I ducked away from Travis' careful examination, so he wouldn’t see me wince, and walked toward his bedroom door.

“I take it you aren’t close.” He correctly read my vibes.

“I haven’t spoken to her since I left home for college.” I left the finality I felt bleed into each word. My sister was a wound I didn’t want to reopen, especially not now that I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

He’d stood, moved toward me, but stopped just shy of wrapping his arms around me. I appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. It was for the best that he hadn't touched me, no matter how much I wanted him to.

“Family is tough.”

“Yeah.”

CHAPTER NINE

Travis

I heaved a breath and checked the time on my phone again. The plane to Denver left in a few hours, and Vin was late. He rarely took someone else’s time seriously.

Never had. Even as kids, he was the one who rolled in late from curfew, the one Mom was always rushing out the door to catch the bus. And he missed it more often than not.

The muted conversation on the other side of the dark-paneled wall reminded me where I was and why I was here. A popular, high-end bar with a private room for San Antonio’s elite. Public, visible, where Vin couldn’t act a fool when I told him Moriah would be housesitting for me.

Which meant I couldn’t lose my patience or my cool.

I shot him yet another irritated text and motioned the waitress for another water. I’d rather have a beer but showing up to the plane half lit wouldn’t earn me any points with Linc. And that’s what I was trying to do—prove myself, earn my end of season bonus, and keep my life as free from drama as I could.

Moriah had been dropped in my lap, clearing a path through it all. And she was leaving her mark on almost every aspect of my life—except one.

I tried not to think about that, not to imagine her in my bed. And instead scrolled through social media on my phone. Her carefully-crafted posts and shares mimicked my posts almost perfectly. She’d done her homework on me—who I was. It was only fair that I did the same thing and found myself flicking through the pictures of her life, her friends, her interests. Mostly fashion and design, things I wouldn’t know the first thing about.

But she made me want to learn.

“Bro, the stalking shit is pathetic.” Vin shoved me in the shoulder playfully before dropping into the seat across from me.

I darkened my screen, placed the phone on the table, and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. Couldn’t argue with him when he was right.

“I told you, I can hook you up. These women, seriously hot ones, they’d do just about anything for a few hours with you.” He paused long enough to order a beer while the waitress refilled my glass. “You don’t need to mess around with that, when you can nail quality tail.”

I flinched at the description. “I don’t roll with the jersey chasers. You know that. And I’m not looking for anything fast and loose.” And if I was, I didn’t need his help finding it.

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