He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she hit him with her best don’t-mess-with-me look and he backed down like a meek little possum. Despite his good looks, his charm, his fun-loving personality and their shared passion for the arts, this was why she’d never felt anything for Rolley. He lacked the backbone she wanted in a lover.
What a mess! She needed a man who would stand up to her, but not one who’d walk all over her. Maybe that really was a fantasy.
Still seething, Billie went back inside, whistling for Baxter to follow her. For a second she considered going next door to The Priory and trying to talk sense into Travis, but something held her back.
Was it self-preservation? What little was left of her pride?
No, she wasn’t going to run after him. She wasn’t going to spend her life chasing someone who couldn’t get over himself enough to trust her.
Deciding to begin the arduous task of calling her artists and relaying the bad news, she grabbed her cell off the counter and slumped onto the sofa, immediately wincing in pain.
She bit her bottom lip to distract herself from the slicing feeling of the fresh tattoo coming into contact with the furniture. In the shock of the last hour, she’d forgotten about her trip to a downtown tattoo parlor only hours ago. How stupid and pathetic could she get? Imagine having a guy’s name etched into your butt when you’d barely known him two weeks. But that’s what she’d done.
Travis’s name was engraved in a bold pink font with a tiny Harley-Davidson motorbike identical to the one he rode, identical to the picture she’d sketched, just beneath it.
It had felt so right—as if he was the yin to her yang, the black to her white, the hot to her cold—that she’d gotten carried away by the fairy tale. Maybe because he didn’t look or act like your typical Prince Charming, she’d more easily believed what they had was the real deal. Whatever; she was now a fool with a broken heart and a permanent reminder of her crazy affair on her behind. If only she’d gone to see Lorna first, before getting the tattoo, then maybe Travis wouldn’t have found her there.
But thank God she hadn’t gotten it in a more prominent place. No one would ever see it where it was, except for future lovers.
Something halfway between a laugh and a snort escaped her mouth as she eased herself back off the sofa. Future lovers? As if Saxon and then Travis hadn’t taught her enough about the male of the species. Whatever package they came in, they were all the same, and she didn’t want anything to do with any of them ever again.
—
Despite Billie’s brave pep talk to herself, the next few days were hard. She ignored the music coming from The Priory every night, trying not to wonder if Travis was there and what he might be getting up to. There was too much work to do to wallow in her heartache and besides, the pain in her butt was so bad it helped distract her from the absolute emptiness that plagued the rest of her body. She assisted the artists in packing up their pieces and hugged and cried with many of them as she said her goodbyes. They all wanted to know if she’d be staying in the Quarter, if they could catch up for drinks sometime, but Billie told them no. She resigned from her ghost tour gig because although she had no idea where she and Baxter would go next, she couldn’t stay here. Travis had ruined this city for her.
Whenever she thought of New Orleans now, it wouldn’t be the beautiful architecture, the almost magical atmosphere of the place, the street musicians, the spooky history or the fabulous food that came to mind. It would be the expression on his face as he loomed above her and then thrust inside.
She swallowed, her eyes moistening again at the thought as her insides twisted in their efforts to match the pain on her butt that constantly reminded her of her stupidity.
“Baxter?” She called to the dog and then sniffed as she waited for him to come to her. He’d been lamenting by the gate, watching the people walking by on Bourbon Street, on constant vigil for one particular person. Whining at every passerby as if he were in some kind of prison. It was almost as if he blamed Billie for Travis’s absence. No matter how much she tried to butter him up with treats to show her affection, he barely gave her the time of day.
“Damn dog,” she sighed when he didn’t come running. She called again, this time shaking his tin of treats, and when he still didn’t appear, she went out into the gallery to look for him. The courtyard, which she’d once loved, now looked so forlorn. She’d even had to get rid of the piano. Only two of the artists still had to collect their paintings, and then it would be time to hand in her keys at The Priory. There were really not many places left where Baxter could hide. Not finding him outside, she went back into the house, did a quick search and came up blank.
Then, she started to panic.
Chapter 15
Travis spent most of his time holed up in one of the rooms above The Priory working, occasionally venturing downstairs for a beer and to discuss the Ministry issue with Ajax and Blue. They still hadn’t decided what to do about the information he’d found, because none of them wanted to go into Ministry territory all heavy-handed when their own club wasn’t yet back to full strength. Which was a drag, because Travis was in the mood to wreak havoc.
He’d assumed within a couple of days of moving out of Billie’s place that he’d start to feel like himself again. Every night he went downstairs hoping that some tart’s short skirt would pique his interest—he figured fucking someone else might help him obliterate the taste and feel of Billie—but so far he hadn’t been able to bring himself to even talk to another woman. Sophie had guessed what his sour mood was about and told him to either get over Billie or go the fuck back to her.
“I don’t want your hangdog expression turning away my customers,” she’d said last night.
It was easy for her to hand out advice when she was so loved up, but she and Ajax were partly to blame for his grumpiness. How was he supposed to forget Billie when they constantly reminded him what it was like to be one part of a whole? They seemed truly happy, and Travis couldn’t help the jealousy that sparked within him. Ajax, although still hard around the edges and still not someone you’d want to mess with, had definitely changed since shacking up with Sophie.
Needing some fresh air and to break this cycle of unhelpful thoughts, he took himself downstairs, sat down on a stool and kicked his boot into the old oak of the bar. He was considering whether it was too early for a drink and decided maybe it would be better to go for a ride, when he felt something warm and furry at his feet.
“Baxter?” he said, glancing down.
“You know that pup?” Sophie asked, coming in from the back. “I was about to call the pound.”
And he was about to tell her it was Billie’s dog and ask if she could take him back, but something stopped him. Instead, he stooped down and scooped him up. “Yep. I’ll take him back where he belongs.”
He hadn’t seen Billie since his explosion at Lorna’s and he wanted to, dammit. Just one last time. Maybe one last hit was what he needed before he exorcised her from his mind altogether.
Baxter nuzzling against his neck and licking his face in a way that was quite embarrassing, Travis went out onto the street and turned toward the gallery. Watching from above The Priory, he’d seen the trail of people coming and going over the last few days, collecting pieces of art and taking them away, but he didn’t expect to feel so bereft when he looked through the ornate ironwork gate and saw it almost empty.
And he was responsible. He’d taken away the life and color of the building, stolen the place where so many locals showcased their work and where Billie and Baxter had made themselves a home. He’d done some pretty bad shit in his life, but somehow this made him feel worse than any of it. Baxter still in his arms, he tried the gate, but it was locked. He’d have to go get a key from next door. As he turned, a thought struck him cold.