Ajax was sitting by the bar when he arrived. He nodded toward the paper food bag in Travis’s hand. “You brought me lunch? How thoughtful.”
“Get your own burger,” he said, giving the other man the finger as he stalked past.
Ajax chuckled. “Guess you got lucky after all.”
Travis grinned at the accurate observation, knowing that as long as he was on board with hunting Priest’s murderer, Ajax couldn’t care less who he was fucking. He nodded at Sophie as he passed the office on his way out the back, then climbed on his bike and rode the short distance around the corner to the gallery, before disembarking to roll it into the courtyard. Billie still had customers, so he parked the bike in the space they’d agreed on, dropped her burger on the desk and then went back inside, where he shared his own lunch with Baxter.
“Don’t tell Billie,” he whispered, as he dropped a chunk of his beef patty on the floor. “Don’t want her thinking I’m soft.”
Chapter 12
Billie knew she was living a fantasy that probably wouldn’t go on forever, but she decided she might as well enjoy it while it lasted and worry about her broken heart when it ended. Over the last week, she’d felt like she’d become closer to Travis than she’d ever been to anyone in her life. She worked in the gallery, chatting with customers and scribbling with her charcoal during the day while he spent long hours at his computer, doing his legitimate work and also the not-so-legitimate stuff he needed to do in the hunt for who murdered Priest, but at night they couldn’t get enough of each other. It wasn’t simply physical—although yes, there was a lot of that as well—he also confided in her about his mission. He confessed his task was to hack into the computer records of everyone associated with the Ministry, and he told her more about the Deacons and the animosity between the two clubs than she guessed he was supposed to.
But that’s what she liked so much about Travis. Well, one of a growing list of things. He was his own man. Yes, he was back in town at Ajax’s command and working alongside the others for one particular purpose, but he was doing it his way. And spending as much time as he could with her in the process. Yet, despite all this, Billie knew the flimsy line that connected them would snap the moment he wrapped up his business with the Deacons. Late at night, she sometimes lay in his arms imagining that this meant as much to him as it did to her. That he was falling in love with her in the same crazy, wholehearted way that she was falling for him. Sometimes—when they talked over dinner or post sex—she even believed it did, but despite the bliss she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before she lost him.
And hers wouldn’t be the only heart broken when that happened. Baxter was perhaps, if it were possible, even more besotted with Travis than she was. Travis pretended to be a real tough dude, and he looked even more the part since he’d started wearing his Deacons cut again, but inside she knew he was a softie. A few times when he didn’t think she was looking, she’d caught him tossing Baxter bits of bacon or other treats under the table. It made her heart turn over in her chest. During the day while Travis worked at his computer in the kitchen, Baxter lay at his feet, only occasionally pottering out to check on Billie in the gallery. Part of her was jealous that her dog seemed to have transferred his affections to what he obviously saw as the alpha male, but she couldn’t really blame him.
Travis was simply that kind of guy. Even when he was acting all hard-ass, being a sarcastic, infuriating douchebag, you couldn’t spend any length of time in his charismatic company without losing your heart. When Saxon had tried to control her, it had made her want to throw knives, but when Travis went all tough guy, all she wanted to do was take off her clothes.
Sighing at that thought, she glanced down at her sketch pad, then across at his bike still taking pride of place in the gallery, and bit down on her charcoal pencil. The piece was almost finished—after days of trying to get it exactly how she wanted it—but she was still reluctant to show Travis. Partly because his approval meant more to her than anyone else’s ever had and partly because handing it over would feel like the first nail in the coffin of their fling. It felt symbolic. This would be her goodbye gift to him, but what would she have of him besides bittersweet memories and dreams of what could never be?
Amidst this dismal thought, her phone beeped. She put down her charcoal and dug the phone out of her pocket, glancing down to see a message from Lorna. Her heart clenched and she quickly glanced toward the house, where Travis was working. His mom had sent a few messages over the last few days, but Billie had ignored them, less able to bring herself to intervene in the mother–son relationship the more time she spent with Travis. She wanted to help, but she also respected his decision to leave the past where it was. In the end, reconnecting with Lorna had to be his decision; however, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the woman she’d changed her mind about her promise.
“Hey. How’s business?”
Billie startled at Travis’s voice as he emerged from the house into the gallery, Baxter’s furry shadow at his feet. She shoved her phone back into her pocket and summoned a smile. “Slow. I’ve sold a couple of hand-painted magnets this morning, but that’s it. You?”
He shrugged as he came to stand alongside her desk. As he loomed over her, every cell in her body melted, her hormones begging the question of when they could next get up close and personal with his. “What about my commission? Can I have a peek yet?”
“No!” She quickly turned her sketch pad over. Distracted by the phone message and his mere presence, she’d forgotten to hide her work, but no way was he seeing it yet. “Not long now,” she promised.
He frowned. “The suspense is killing me. You artists are cruel creatures, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Says the man who teased and taunted me into bed.”
“If I recall, you were the one who made a move on me.”
She opened her mouth to refute this statement with the facts, but he leaned down and covered her mouth with his before she could. Thank God she was still sitting because his lips on hers, their tongues dancing, made her swoon like a Victorian romance heroine. Every. Single. Time.
When he finally broke their kiss, she took a moment to catch her breath and then asked, “What about you? How goes your progress?”
“Not real great, but you just made me feel a whole lot better. I’m heading out to get some lunch. Want me to grab you something?”
“Thanks.” She nodded. “That would be fab.” He’d attempted to cook her lunch on a couple of occasions, but cooking wasn’t his forte. He managed to mess up even the simplest of toasted sandwiches, but she forgave him because he was very good at other things.
“Okay.” He patted her on the butt, as he often did. If Saxon had done such a thing she’d have wanted to scream blue murder, but Travis didn’t make her feel like his pet, someone he could order around and train to do as he wanted. No, he made her feel sexy, and whenever he patted her on the bum she forgot about whatever it was she should be doing and simply wanted to throw herself at him. Luckily he spoke again before her newfound hussy tendencies reared their head. “Want to go for a ride later?”
“Uh…yes, please.” Until a few days ago, she’d thought riding on the back of a bike a reckless thing to do. But like Travis had reformed her thinking on so many things—tattoos, sex, her talents, to name but a few—he’d also changed her opinion on motorcycles. He’d found her an old helmet from somewhere deep inside The Priory and she adored the feeling of being pressed tightly against him, the wind buffeting them as he sped down highways and back alleys alike. His skill on the roads was akin to his skill in the bedroom. She often wondered if there was anything he wasn’t good at. Besides sandwich making, that was.