Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

And the world felt somehow both very distant and more beautiful than it’d ever been.

He brought his hand up and placed it over mine, halting my exploration on the small breath of a laugh. “Unless you’re ready for round two, you should probably stop that.” The twitching between his legs proved his words.

I grinned, twisting, and crossing my arms on his chest, propping my chin on my hands so I could look in his eyes. “Sounds like a challenge.”

He chuckled. “And one I’d gladly take on, except I don’t have any more condoms.”

Well, darn.

“We weren’t exactly quiet,” I said, my cheeks flushing as I recalled how many times I’d moaned his name and shouted for God, and likely all His heavenly angels, though some of our recent activity was still a blissful blur.

“Do you think we scandalized the crew?” he asked, one finger twisting in a curl. I moved my eyes to the side, watching it for a moment.

“I don’t know,” I said. “They’re a pretty accepting group.”

“They’d have to be, I guess.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Yes. But do you know what I notice most about them?”

“That they’re usually drunk?”

I laughed again as that finger continued to twist idly. “No. I notice that they all know exactly who they are and they make no apologies for it. We should strive to be like them.”

His eyes met mine, and he seemed to search my face for a moment, something warm and soft coming into his expression. “You’re right.” He looked away, back to that twisting finger now completely ensnared in my curl. “Everyone should strive to be like them,” he murmured softly, but I got the sense he was speaking for himself more so than “everyone.”

I watched him for a moment, my eyes moving slowly over the perfection of his features. He was so classically handsome, those vibrant eyes unusual and mesmerizing. I wondered momentarily if he looked like his mother or his father, and realized it had to be his father since he resembled his half-brother—the one he shared fathers with—so much.

The Hale boys were always wild. Hot as sin, and guaranteed to burn you if you got too close.

Yes, I could see that. Oh how I could see that.

Deep breath. Temporary. Friends.

But the benefits were . . . spectacular. I was still seeing stars and my muscles felt as though they’d morphed into jelly.

“Be careful,” I said, my eyes sliding toward his finger, now hopelessly tangled in my lock of hair. “It’s like one of those Chinese finger traps. The more you struggle, the tighter it gets.”

He laughed. “Then I guess I’m trapped for good.”

And then he rolled me over, his hand moving with my head so he didn’t pull my hair. I laughed, a surprised outburst, right before his lips came down on mine. Right before he proved he was up for a challenge, and there were lots of things you could do without the benefit of a condom.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




Travis



The morning was bright and already warm at eight in the morning, dappled sunlight falling over the porch. The screen door swung shut behind me, as my gaze moved around the railing where several of Haven’s plants sat in pots, their leaves green and lush under her patient care. I smiled. Others would have given up on them. They’d once been barely living, but now, they thrived. I moved toward the swing, ready to sit and wait for Haven, who was still showering, when I spotted a lone figure walking along the dock.

Burt.

I frowned, descending the steps and walking toward the lake. “A blind man walking alone on a dock?” I said, when I’d made it there. “That seems highly inadvisable.”

Burt turned toward my voice. “Good morning, Chief Hale.”

I approached him, careful not to make the dock sway under my movement. “Morning.”

“And a beautiful one it is,” he said.

God, is it. I swore I was walking on air after a night with Haven that I could only describe as mind blowing. “Yes, sir,” I agreed.

“What are you up to this fine day?” he asked.

“I’m taking Haven to an antique fair a few towns over. She’s upstairs getting ready.”

“Ah. Show me to the edge. Let’s sit while you wait for her.”

I led him toward the edge of the dock and helped him navigate where to sit, lowering myself next to him, both of our legs hanging off the side. He sighed, taking in a big breath of air, smiling again.

“You seem happy this morning,” I said. Though in truth, Burt had radiated happiness since I’d met him. I was glad to have arrived at this part of his story. I was glad for him, that he’d arrived here too.

“I found that bird,” he said. “The one who sang just for me.”

Surprised, I turned my head toward him.

“It’s called a prairie warbler and he sang for me again.” His smile grew. “Turns out, he was right outside Betty’s window.” If a black man could blush, he did just that, though his smile didn’t dwindle. In fact, it was so wide, I wondered if his face might split.

“You old charmer,” I said, only mildly surprised. I’d noticed their friendship . . . watched them gravitate toward each other no matter where we all were.

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Tell me, is she beautiful? She feels beautiful.”