Page 80 of Fashionista's Playbook

She snorted. “Of course, you did. It’s not like you could have done better.”

My laughter grew shrill, to the point I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Travis stepped past her and into the dining room, his face a mask of polite indifference. Until his eyes met mine. Then his jaw hardened, and his eyes went dark. “Moriah?”

I looked from Travis to her, slowly pulling the hand from my mouth. “Couldn’t have done better?” Then I made a frantic get away, shaking as I all but ran from the room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Moriah

I gripped the toilet, thankful for the meticulousness of Travis’ cleaning crew. My body spasmed, as I was hit with one dry heave after another. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t go back in there, no matter how much my parents wanted this to be a big happy reunion.

I stumbled to standing and lurched to the sink. The running water sounded far away, the throbbing blood in my ears drowned it out. The cool liquid pooled in my cupped hands and I splashed it on my face. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying until I caught sight of my puffy faced, red-eyed reflection.

Wallowing in self-pity was something I was well equipped for. I’d forgotten how good I really was at it, since my life had been going so well. As a kid my grandfather would bring me chocolate milk and make jokes until I stopped feeling bad about whatever Elise had said or done.

I owed Travis more than hiding out in a bathroom. I found my purse in my sewing room, dug out my makeup, and tried my best to fix the damage I’d done. Then I went to the kitchen to fortify with wine before calling everyone to dinner.

Lincoln Mercer was near the sink, glass of water beside him on the counter, rapidly texting on his phone. He glanced up as I walked in, smiled, and shrugged. “The work never stops, not even for holidays.”

He looked like one of those guys who would wreck a boardroom, and maybe he did. But beyond that, there was a kindness and understanding in his eyes. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, I guess.”

“It means a lot to Travis that you’re here.” I filled a basket with the last of the serving utensils, anything to hide the shakingin my hands, to keep from reliving that one night so long ago. “He speaks highly of you.”

“More than Vincent, I’d imagine.” He cut a glance to the doorway and snorted.

“I’m on that ship with you.”

Seamlessly, he slid his phone into a pocket and took the basket from my arms.

I hesitated when a familiar, flirtatious giggle floated from the other side of the doorway.

She’d laughed like that before, guiding me by the arm toward the gym doors. “Oh, she’ll be fine, Moriah’s always been a bit of a diva.”

The quiet rumble of a male voice was too low for me to hear.

My heart stopped. Of course, Travis was exactly Elise’s type.

“Don’t give her the power.” Lincoln had stopped, turned back to me, and smiled gently. “I could hear you and your sister. This is your place.”

“Thanks.” In the dining room the conversations from the living area swept in. Not just Elise, but my mother thanking Travis for his hospitality, Vincent laughing, DeSean and DT with the kids and my dad. If it weren’t for Elise being there, I’d say the scene was about perfect.

“I can get this.” I tried to wave off Lincoln’s attempts to help. My mind kept slipping back, my hands still trembled.

“My Mama would whip me if I didn’t.” A southern accent that lightly coated his words.

“In that case,” I handed him several large spoons and nodded toward the other end of the buffet. “Have at it.”

He peeled back the lids and placed spoons.

“I appreciate the help.”

His smile was warm, and his eyes twinkled. I was pretty sure most of the office guys for the Outlaws weren’t that good looking.

“I have ulterior motives.”

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