Page 71 of Fashionista's Playbook

“My game isn’t until Sunday. We can plan a Thanksgiving here. Something small—me, you, and Vin.”

“Okay, sounds great.” I lied.

****

I wore an altered vintage dress. I’d opened the long sleeves and lifted the hem. The deep V-neck was black lace, the skirt a pleated fabric. Not quite an evening gown, but definitely not casual wear.

And I wore Travis’ necklace, nestled just above my breasts.

The hours leading up to dinner, as well as the ride there, I battled against the inner voice in my head that kept reminding me I didn’t belong here. No doubt Jersey Chasers would hearabout this. Our second outing as a couple, only this time I wasn’t working.

All it took to silence the arguments with myself was a side glance at Travis’ handsome face. Working on my self-confidence was trial and error, made worse by first date jitters. But Travis had quickly become my anchor.

He reached over the console to take my hand, as if he knew I needed the contact. A reminder of how much he wanted to be there.

Travis drove his large, lifted black pickup. He had more vehicles than I cared to count. I no longer felt any guilt about driving the Range. He pulled to a stop at the valet. Before I could figure out how to step from the massive vehicle in a ladylike fashion, he was there, helping me to the ground.

“Moriah—” he looked me up and down “—You’re beautiful. Every inch of you is amazing.” Then he brought my wrist to his lips, kissed it, and turned to walk inside holding my hand the entire way.

Cork and Bottle was a swanky, five-star restaurant owned by a celebrity chef—where it cost most people’s monthly rent for a steak dinner. But guys like Travis could be seated immediately and left undisturbed while they ate.

We were immediately led back to a table near a window that overlooked the city. “The view is amazing.”

“Yeah, it is.” His eyes were on me, over the menu.

We both stared at each other for a beat before laughing.

“That was cheesy.” He leaned back in his chair on a final chuckle and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t help it—you make me this way.”

“I’m not complaining.” I said as the waitress approached for our order.

For me it was the beef Wellington and a Caesar salad. A modest, but special occasion type of meal. I didn’t need thecarbs, but how often would I be out like this? Travis, however, ordered what sounded like half the menu. At home, he ate constantly, though the food was always part of a strict diet.

When he caught me gazing at him with surprise and interest, he laughed. “Cheat day.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Besides, I’ll work it off on the field this weekend. It won’t be just me, we’ll all be recovering from Thanksgiving. The big guys are about the only ones that don’t seem to pay for it.”

“Like Dozer and DT?”

“Exactly.” He chuckled. “For big guys, though, they can move. Dozer deadlifts well over what I do. I’ll take him blocking for me any day.”

It was the first time I’d heard him talk about someone other than Vincent with that type of trust and friendship. There was a touch of relief. From my limited contact with Vincent, he seemed far more worried about himself than Travis.

I shouldn’t judge, especially not when his brother and I had this uneasy rivalry between us. But Thanksgiving dinner would be much better with Dozer and DT than with Vincent.

I pinched myself under the table for thinking that way.

He leaned back in his chair and studied me as a server poured two glasses of wine. “I guess we talk turkey.”

“It’s short notice, but Outlaws front office staff gave me the name for a caterer that can make it happen.” I sipped the wine, careful not to drink too much and then say too much.

“Vin and I usually don’t do a lot for the holidays. Haven’t since our parents died.”

“I understand, believe me. In college my sorority would do a dinner for those of us that stayed behind during the break. Rumer goes to see her mom. Last year, I ordered takeout and binge watched romantic comedies.” So much for stifling the verbal diarrhea. I hid my embarrassment with another sip. “That sounded way more depressing than I meant for it to.”

Travis laughed. “Nah. Not unless you’d have rather been with your family.”

I shook my head no, too quickly. “I love my parents, I do. And when my grandparents were alive, holidays were a blast. But spending an entire massive meal listening to my sister compare my shortcomings to her strengths—I’ll pass.” To my left, the Texas nightlife sparkled as I looked away from him. “And then there’s her husband.” I swallowed the bile and shivered. I’d come a long way from Pigmo.

He watched me, his eyes slightly narrowed but expression calm. Like he would listen—I could trust him for that. But if I told him too much, my brother-in-law might not survive it.

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