Busted

He was already pushing it, time-wise, and it didn’t matter that Travis was there to help out. He needed to get Amy home, get to bed—or maybe climb into a cold shower.

He almost relished the fact that he needed the cold shower, although the ten minute drive was nowhere near enough to cool his blood. Of course, the fact that he kept replaying that almost-chaste kiss . . . or picturing Ressa in her dress, peeling it off of her, none of that helped level him out.

Pulling his truck into the driveway, he noted that Clayton’s light was off. He was in bed, sound asleep. Just as he should be, which meant Amy had been in charge, not Travis.

The door opened before he’d cleared the steps and he saw Travis there, his face looking even more haggard than before. Trey shoved the alarm down. Sooner or later, that son of a bitch was going to tell him what was going on and, if he didn’t, Trey would take drastic measures. He’d fight dirty and just tell Mom.

Travis might be able to bullshit his way through anything, but if Denise Barnes realized that Travis was bullshitting her, the man was going to suffer the torments of the damned.

But for now . . . Trey stopped at the top of the steps and rocked back on his heels. “You survived.”

“Piece of cake.” Travis shrugged and glanced behind him. “Amy, he’s here if you’re ready to go.”

Amy appeared less than a minute later, her eyes heavy, a smile on her face. She barely glanced at Travis, smiled at Trey. “Everything go okay?” he asked.

She nodded and hefted her bag higher up on her shoulder when it started to slide down. “I don’t know how much I was needed, but thanks anyway. The money comes in handy.”

“You were needed. If I let Travis be in charge, then Clayton would still be awake, he wouldn’t have had a bath and di

“And what’s wrong with that?” Travis asked, his voice mild.

“You’re not a five-year-old boy who’ll wake up sick to his stomach.” Trey just shook his head and stepped aside so Amy could head to the car. “Let’s get you home.”

As he climbed in, he noticed that Travis had made himself comfortable on one of the Adirondack chairs on the far side of the porch. He didn’t look like he was in any hurry to move, either.

Trey was tired. Crazy tired. But if Travis was in a mood to have a chat, that suited him just fine. He had more than a few things he wanted to say, too.

*   *   *

Trey was irritated with him.

He’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. While Travis might be many things, he wasn’t an idiot. It hadn’t taken even fifteen minutes to run Amy home and make the return trip. Travis stayed where he was, legs sprawled out, eyes closed.

Once he had felt eyes on him and he had slowly lifted his lashes. From his angle, he could see the side of the house a few yards down—and how the curtains swayed in one window, only to fall back down.

He’d caught sight of the woman there once or twice. Whoever she was, she was nosy. He thought maybe it was Nadine. Nadine Armstrong. Yeah, that was right. She drove Trey a little nuts. Apparently she had a thing for spying, too.

As Trey pulled his truck back into the driveway, the light in the window next door went black and Travis rolled his head on the back of the chair, listening to the solid sound of Trey’s shoes striking the sidewalk.

It had him blowing out a breath. This wasn’t going to be one of their peaceful chats. “I think I might grab a beer. You want one?”

“I’ll get it.” Trey paused and then added, “You still look like you’re going to fall flat on your face anyway.”

As the door shut behind him, Travis dragged a hand down his face. No, he wasn’t going to fall flat on his face. He wasn’t even close to falling flat on his face. But he sure as hell felt like shit. Barely a couple of minutes passed before the door opened again and Trey came striding back out.

“You know, judging by the look in your eye, I’d almost say you must have had one lousy-ass date. What did you do, spill food in her lap?” Travis asked.

“Fu

Now Trey was smiling. A faint smile, but the smile was there and his eyes had that same goofy look that Zach’s tended to get when he was thinking about Abby. “Another one bites the dust,” Travis muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. So, what’s her name?”

“Ressa.” Trey slid him a look.

“Ressa . . .” Travis studied. “Well. I’ll be damned. How are things going with your sexy librarian? Hey, wait a second—I thought you never got around to getting her number?”

“You could say fate intervened,” Trey said, lifting a shoulder.

“Fate.” Travis studied him. “Do tell.”

“We bumped into each other at that conference.”

Something in Trey’s voice had Travis biting back a smile. He mentally blocked everything else—some things a man just didn’t need to know about his twin, no matter how close they were. And there were vibes coming from Trey that fell into that didn’t need to know category.

“I’m not going to ask you to define bumped there, brother.” Travis snorted.

“Yeah. Don’t.” Trey threw a beer cap at him.

Travis had to fight to instinct to grab it out of the air and lob it back. It sailed past his shoulder to hit the window as he smiled. “So. Then what?”

Trey just shrugged. “We hit it off. But it was just the weekend. When I asked for her number, she seemed to think it was better to just let it ride. That should have been it.” He rose, still holding the beer he had yet to drink. “Then I take Clayton to school and there she was.”

Travis just waited.

“She’s got a cousin. She was dropping her off. I . . . I kinda get the idea that the mom isn’t in the picture much—if at all. Ressa takes care of the little girl. Anyway, she’s coming over tomorrow. Her and her cousin.”

It was tossed out, so casual like, and Trey stood there, taking a drink while Travis all but had to pick his jaw up off the floor. Practically six years of being by himself—just him and Clayton, and now . . . “Just how many times have you two gone out?”

“Technically speaking?” Trey shrugged as he put the bottle down. “Once.”

“Not including tonight?”

“No. Tonight was the first date. Jersey, well . . . we didn’t really do anything we could call dating.”

It might have been Travis’s imagination, but he was almost positive that Trey was blushing. Yeah. He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Let me get this straight,” Travis said slowly, feeling uneasy. It was probably all in his head, but he couldn’t help it. After the hell his twin had been through the past few years, Travis automatically defaulted to protective.

Getting to his feet hurt, and he hoped like hell he didn’t give any sign as to how much. Once he was upright, he took another drink. He just might end up puking it out on Trey’s feet, but if he tried to talk then, Trey would hear the pain in his voice so he needed the minute. Now, then. About as steady as he was going to get. He crossed over to study his twin’s face, just a few inches away. “You see this woman you’ve been moon-eyed over for . . . what, six months? You run into each other at a conference. You’re not spelling it out, so I’ll just take a stab at it—it sounds like you two spent half the time fucking, am I right?”

Trey’s eyes narrowed, but Travis steamrolled right over him. “Then, you two up and part ways. Now you find out your son and her cousin share a class. Doesn’t that sound kinda . . . coincidental to you?”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re a paranoid son of a bitch?” Trey said, his voice almost pleasant.