Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

He smiled. “Me too.”





CHAPTER EIGHT




Travis



“Who’s the new guy?” I asked casually, as if I didn’t already know the answer, glancing at Mrs. Hearst, one of the managers of the golf and tennis club.

She looked up from where she was doing paperwork at a table with a large umbrella blocking out the sun and peered toward where I’d inclined my head. Easton Torres lowered a tennis ball hopper over a ball and then moved toward another, collecting it as well.

“His name is Easton Torres. He’s a seasonal employee. One who generally has a line of women trailing behind him,” she said, smiling up at me. “Why, hello, Chief Hale.”

I smiled back. “How are you, Mrs. Hearst?”

“I’m well, thank you. Why do you ask about Easton?” As though he’d heard his name—though that was impossible because the distance was too far and we were speaking quietly—he glanced up, his eyes widening as he looked between me and Mrs. Hearst. I smiled slyly, raising my water bottle. He tucked his head and hurried away, the hopper clutched in his hand, leaving numerous tennis balls uncollected on the empty court.

I tipped my drink to my mouth, giving myself time to consider how to answer her question. Mrs. Hearst was one of the few in the club who hadn’t lived in Calliope when the scandal with my mother occurred. Therefore, if she judged us, it was only because she’d heard the gossip, not because she had a personal stake in Victoria Hale’s numerous betrayals and ultimate ejection. When I’d seen her sitting alone at the table and Easton directly in view, it’d seemed a good opportunity to plant a seed or two. Just in case. I drummed my fingers idly on the brick column next to me. Tap, tap, tap. But what if I did more than plant a seed? What would happen if I told her Easton was under an unofficial investigation—which was true—that might potentially result in a scandal that brought negative scrutiny to the club—which, again, was true. Potentially. The idea knocked around in my brain momentarily. I’d have to word it just right.

A laugh drifted from the direction of the smoothie bar around the corner from where I was standing.

I’m sorry. On his behalf.

If I did word it just right, Mrs. Hearst would likely find a reason to fire Easton, that’s what. Who needed a potential scandal brought on by a temporary employee?

You can’t apologize on someone else’s behalf.

No. I know. I know that.

Of course, if Easton got fired from the club, that would affect his sister. I lifted my hand, rubbing at my eye.

What are you thinking?

I was thinking that I’m glad we’re friends.

Friends.

That particular laugh met my ears again, my train of thought regarding Easton scattering.

At least this way, with him still employed at the club, I could continue to keep my eye on him, both at work and at home. And keep him guessing. Keep him wondering.

I sighed, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. “Never mind. For a minute, I thought he was someone else.”

“Ah. Well, it’s good to see you looking so well, Chief. Have a nice rest of your day.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hearst. You too.”

And with that, I turned away, moving toward that laugh.

“Don’t you see enough of me?” Haven asked, putting her hands on her hips as I rounded the corner.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for the wheat germ.”

She laughed and whatever had been on my mind moments before, was suddenly gone. “Ah. The wheat germ. Likely story.”

I grinned. “Hey, friend.”

“Hey yourself. What can I delight your palate with today?”

At her words, a zing of heat shot through my midriff. A zing that didn’t exactly feel . . . friendly.

I’d been rising every morning to accompany her on her plant rounds, and we’d chatted about mundane subjects, getting to know each other on a surface level. It was nice. Peaceful. I enjoyed her company. And maybe enjoyed was too tempered a word because again, I was following her as she performed plant rounds.

All while carrying that damn cat who just happened to show up each morning just when I did. And I didn’t even like cats.

In any case, I was pretty sure Haven enjoyed my company too, and the time we spent together talking in the hush of the early morning. But . . .

Again, I needed a break from women. And she wasn’t staying in Maine anyway so it was really a moot point. Friendship was fine, but anything else was more complicated than I wanted at the moment. She leaned forward to grab something from a shelf below the counter and I caught the slight rounded swell of one breast. My mouth went momentarily dry.

Haven stilled suddenly and my eyes shot to her face, breathing out a sigh of relief when I saw that she hadn’t caught me staring down her shirt, but that she was looking behind me.

I turned to see Gage Buchanan approaching, a wide smile on his face. He took a seat. “Haven,” he said in greeting.

Her cheeks flushed, lashes fluttered. “Hi, Gage,” she said, a breathless quality to her voice that made me narrow my eyes. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have one of those protein shakes you made for me last week, please.” He turned slightly. “Travis.”

“Hey, Gage,” I said, my eyes still focused on Haven whose eyes were still focused on Gage. A streak of annoyance lit inside me.