Page 6 of Fitting the Financier
We stop at a stand selling honey roasted peanuts. Travis confidently takes charge, ordering us two pouches. It's a simple gesture, and I can't help but appreciate the comfort of being cared for. I haven’t had that since my Grams.
“You’re staring.” He passes me a cone-shaped pouch.
“Am I?” The peanuts are warm in my hand. The scent of caramelized sugar tickles my nose.
“Now you’re flushing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re having naughty thoughts about the side of my digits.” He wiggles his fingers.
I choke on a nut. My eyes water. “I think the reference is to shoe sizes.” I make a pointed glance at his snickers.
“Twelves, baby.” He arches a cocky brow.
This time I chomp on the nut before it goes anywhere near my throat. “I was thinking your hands belong to a mechanic, not a person working in city hall.”
“Give me half a chance and I can show you what these hands are good for.”
“Travis!” I flush, not because I’m a prude, but because, despite the lovely evening, Charity’s dad is at the edge of my thoughts. I blame Charity for mentioning him, for convincing him to visit Candy Cane. Most of all, I blame myself for falling for a man who doesn’t know I exist beyond being his daughter’s best friend.
“Get your head out of the gutter,” Travis says with a smile that I wished set my heart on fire. “I notice you don’t have any Christmas decorations up yet. Any later and the entire town will write a letter to the big man himself.” He glances around him, then whispers. “Or worse, put a complaint in with the city.”
I groan. He’s only half joking. Candy Cane had a Christmas committee of grandmothers who take their positions as seriously as the mayor. There hasn’t been a change in membership since Carter was president and unless one dies, their word is more than the law. It’s tradition.
“I’ve just been—”
“Hey, no need to explain.”
But I want to. Want to share my good news with someone other than Charity. “I’ve been a little stressed lately.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Things are looking up. I recently received news that will help my business.”
“That’s amazing.”
“And nerve racking, but it’s an opportunity to grow.”
“You’re not trying to let me down easily, are you?” He searched my face.
“No.” This is my chance to have a fresh beginning all around. It is definitely time I put a stop to this madness I feel for Nathan and get a hold of my love life. I realize I went about my dating life the wrong way. Pushing Travis away or engrossing myself in work isn’t the answer to forgetting Nathan Dawan. Dating is. Nights like tonight are. We are at the end of the path. The end of a beautiful evening. “Sorry it took so long to make tonight happen.”
He pauses, taking my hand. I stare at our hands. This is nice in a gentle, reassuring sort of way. My middle doesn’t flutter with the mere thought of him, and his name doesn’t have my pulse racing. “You’re worth the wait, Naomi Waters.”
We’re caught in a loop of staring into each other’s eyes. I will myself to relax, drown in the blue sea staring back at me, but all I see are Nathan’s dark intense eyes that mimic the howling winds of a category four hurricane.
Travis leans in, and my stomach hollows out. My skin suddenly prickles. The feeling is so unexpected that my eyes widen instead of closing in anticipation of our first kiss, and I gasp. He tosses his peanuts aside to cup my cheek. My lips part to tell him to wait … that I’m not ready, but no words escape.
Not a single one.
The distance closes between us and I slam my eyes shut, too afraid he’ll see my thoughts for another man in my eyes and the first kiss I’d shamelessly envisioned having with him.
“You really shouldn’t litter,” came an icy tone.
Shit. Shit. I’m even hearing his voice. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I pucker my lips like a tenth grader and concentrate on what is about to happen.
“Naomi!” Nathan growls, the sound bouncing behind my eyelids. I try harder to block him out.He’s only in your imagination.
I count to five and wait. But Travis’s kiss never arrives.
Travis clears his throat and I snap my eyes open. Did I read the wrong signal behind his lean-in? “Why did you stop—” I inhale sharply. Had I been a few shades lighter, the men would have seen me flush.
