Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

I hesitated, torn again, but knowing that for whatever her reasons were, she needed to turn away from the memory she’d just dredged up. “Rewind?” I leaned forward, kissing her once on her lips. “To which part? I can think of several moments I’d like to revisit since the moment you knocked on my door.”

She laughed softly, her shoulders relaxing, the crease on her forehead smoothing out. I smiled, raising my eyebrows suggestively, the mood lightening once again. And then I rolled on top of her, crushing her momentarily as she laughed and pretended to choke. I rolled off, grinning as I dragged my lips down her stomach, going lower, as her laugher melted into sighs and then turned to moans.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE




Travis



Clawdia’s purr rose and fell as I scratched under her chin, her body a warm, slight weight in my arms. I trailed behind Haven, my vision going hazy at the edges as she stretched up on her tiptoes to water the plants on the kitchen windowsill, the curve of her ass cheeks peeking out from the cotton shorts she wore.

She turned, her eyes narrowing slightly as my gaze shot to hers. I grinned, and she gave her head a small shake, a mock exasperated look pinching her features. She looked sexy and mussed, her hair a tangled riot around her face and trailing down her back. We’d woken with the sun as usual and, despite thoroughly enjoying our morning ritual, I wanted to take her back to bed and bury myself inside her. Stay there.

It’d been an amazing, pleasure-filled week. But a busy one too as one of my officers was out with a broken leg after he’d attempted some trick on a jet ski that had failed spectacularly and left the department short-handed. I’d had to work several double shifts, hardly able to focus on my job, so eager to return home to Haven, even if the hours we spent together were far too short.

“That cat is going to grieve intensely when you leave the inn.”

I looked down at Clawdia’s blissful face, scratching the top of her head as she leaned into me and I felt a small twang in my chest. Why, I wasn’t sure. Again, I didn’t even like cats. “Do you blame her?” I asked.

Haven gave a soft laugh but it faded quickly as she tipped the watering can and gave another plant a drink. I watched her profile for a minute. She seemed . . . troubled this morning. Or maybe just introspective. I’d detected the same mood off and on since the night she’d talked about her mother’s substance abuse. But each morning it’d seemed to fall away. Until this morning.

I opened my mouth to ask her what she was thinking about when a soft knock from the front of the house made both our heads turn. I frowned. Who would be here this early?

Betty wasn’t even up.

I walked to the foyer and stopped abruptly, seeing Phoebe’s golden head through the upper glass portion of the wide front door.

What. The. Hell?

I glanced back to see Haven standing behind me, a questioning look on her face, watering can by her side, as she blinked at the woman on the other side of the door.

“It’s Phoebe,” I said.

Haven’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

I stared at Haven a moment. I wasn’t sure what to say. This had been the very last thing I’d expected. Frankly, I’d almost forgotten Phoebe existed. I wasn’t sure that said great things about me, but there it was.

I had this strange, out-of-body feeling like two worlds were colliding, and I was having trouble orienting myself.

“You should let her in,” Haven said. I couldn’t exactly discern what was in her tone, though there was something almost . . . resigned in her expression.

“Right,” I said. “I should. Let her in.” She obviously saw me, was standing there watching through the glass. But my gaze stayed stuck to Haven.

Haven raised her hand, waving it behind her. “I’ll just . . . go shower. Give you two . . . some privacy.”

Clawdia batted at my hand, the one that had ceased petting her and was currently resting on her head. I let out a sigh. Fuck. This was weird. But maybe it was necessary. “Thanks.” I’d go to her afterward, tell her what happened.

I took the several steps to the front door, pulling it open. Phoebe stood there in white shorts and a yellow tank top, her gaze going over my shoulder to where Haven had turned and was scurrying away.

“Hi,” Phoebe said softly, nervousness dancing over her face.

“Hi,” I said distractedly, glancing back to where Haven was just disappearing up the stairs. I wanted to follow her. I wanted to resume the peaceful, easy morning we’d been enjoying.

When I looked back at Phoebe, she was looking at the stairs, a small crease between her perfectly arched brows. Her gaze met mine again. “The maid’s up early . . .” Phoebe noted, her frown deepening. “And isn’t wearing much.”

My jaw tensed. “She’s not the maid. She’s a guest staying here.”

Phoebe looked momentarily confused. “Oh.” She glanced at the cat, her gaze landing on its stump of a leg, features contorting as she drew back.

I set Clawdia down gently, running my hand over her head. “How’d you know I was here?” I asked, standing straight.

“I . . . heard.”

Irritation snaked through me. Damn this small town.

Phoebe moved from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry to hear about your house,” she said, gaze flitting away.