Page 89 of Fashionista's Playbook

“You can’t just buy your way into getting what you want, Travis.” She came out of the bathroom fully dressed, her expression worried.

I’d unintentionally stepped into an argument I wasn’t sure I could navigate. “It was just a solution to a problem I wasn’t trying to…”

“Pay me off to live with you?” Her cheeks were pink. “And if I agree, then your brother is going to say…”

“Fuck Vincent, its none of his business.”

She pressed her fingers to her temples. “And you can’t just throw money at every problem.”

I snorted to keep from shouting. “At some of them, you best believe I’m going to. I have it—why not spend it?”

“Because normal people don’t have that ability. Besides, it gives you too much power over me. I’ll feel like I owe you more than I already do.”

Unable to carry my side of the argument naked, I snatched on a pair of shorts and followed her down the hall. “You don’t owe me shit.”

“I do.” She spun on me, emotion in her eyes. “So fucking much, Travis. And not just this damn job.”

“Hey, whoa.” I took her by the arms and pulled her to me before she could start crying. I couldn’t handle that right then. “I brought it up because I don’t want to sleep without you. I’m…” I couldn't’ say those three words, not just yet. “I want you here, with me.”

“I’ll talk to Rumer, because I want to be with you too. I’ll just keep paying the rent myself.”

When I tried to argue again, she cast a hard look up at me.

“Fine.” I agreed.

“She’s been remarking about how much I’ve been gone since my family’s been here anyway.”

I nodded. “Vin’s been gone a lot too. If you hadn’t been here, this place would feel empty.”

Moriah went rigid in my arms. “He’s been with my sister.”

A headache formed behind my eyes and throbbed with aching slowness. “Fuck.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Moriah

Christmas was closing in, and while I still left some stuff at the apartment and paid my rent, I rarely went back there. Rumer had even taken to visiting me at Travis’.

Thankfully there’d been no awkward interactions between Vincent and Bianca, nor had my sister said anything at all about him when she texted or called. I’d talked to Elise more in the past few weeks than in the past ten years.

I was glad the Bianca/Vincent stuff had blown over. I needed her. Turns out that NFL players could dole out more money to help less fortunate children than I’d ever imagined.

“It’s going to be great, Travis.” I breathed a happy sigh as I climbed into the passenger seat of his truck and flung a farewell wave to a very pleased Bianca. “You’ve done a wonderful thing.”

“I couldn’t have made it happen without you, Mariposa.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “I know you’ve put aside a lot of your design stuff to work on the charity.”

I had, but the work I was doing for his non-profit was as satisfying as any of my fashion stuff. That creative outlet was launching pretty well anyhow, I needed to get some new stuff done to put on the website. Claudia Jones and a few of the other players’ wives had bought me out and orders were coming in left and right.

All of it was exciting. I’d never been as busy or satisfied in all my life. This was my first look at Travis’ Kids onsite facility. More than shopping trips and writing checks. This would be a place for at risk kids to learn sports, confidence, have safe afterschool care, and much more.

Somewhere along the line this charity had become as much my passion as his.

“Check this out.” A few blocks away from the center, he pulled the truck into a parking space in front of a building with a For Lease sign in the window. “I know you’ve been looking for something retail.”

I cocked my head. “Keeping tabs on me, Madera?”

His light chuckle was sexier than I’m sure he realized. “We share an office, Mariposa.”

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