Finding Refuge
Authors: Lucy Francis
Finding Refuge
by
Lucy Francis
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Lucy Francis
Amazon Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to
share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was
not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase
your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Lucy Francis.
Images from:
Diego Cervo / Bigstock.com
Randy Hines / 123rf
First Edition, June 2012
For my editor, Trish, and my reader, Kim. Ladies, you rock!
I literally could not do this without you.
Travis Holt sat in his truck, eyes closed, fingers clenched
around the steering wheel. Melancholy seeped out of the prison inside him and
he brutally shoved it back into place. Lunch hadn’t helped his mood any, but it
didn’t really matter. He faced several hours of work before the day ended,
checking on various jobs in progress, meeting with an inspector for a final
punch list, ensuring everything stayed on schedule. It all had to get done, and
the rest of the world didn’t care if he was having a lousy day.
A gentle breeze wafted through the half-lowered window,
brushing over his face and ruffling his hair. He drew a deep breath of air
touched with the scent of warming earth. The smell of spring that was so late
in coming this year. He missed the way things used to be, when spring arrived
on schedule in March, and summer was in full bloom by the time the end of May
rolled around. June was always hot when he was a kid, but the last several years
in Utah had seen snow in the mountains and cold, wet weather in the Salt Lake
valley until the middle of June.
He hated it. Just one more frustrating thing in his life
that he couldn’t control. The misery he’d carried with him all day squeezed him
hard, and he opened his eyes and fought back: turning on the truck, cranking up
the stereo, heading for the next stop in his packed Monday list of crap he had
to do. Thinking about the past didn’t do him any good at all. Neither did the
present, really, but at least if he stayed rooted in the here and now, living
moment by moment, the knowledge that he was a failure didn’t swamp him
completely.
He sang with the rock song pounding through the speakers,
distracting himself from the weight of his life. Because the awful truth
nagging at the edges of his thoughts was that he’d reached the limit of what he
could carry. One more thing dropped on top would push him under. He’d drown. If
he didn’t acknowledge that fact, he’d make it through every day, no matter what
hit him.
Travis pulled into the driveway of the sprawling, French
Country-style mansion sitting high on the Mount Olympus foothills. His client
had spent a hell of a lot of money for a spectacular view lot, and Travis
believed the man truly got what he paid for, with the primarily glass rear of
the new house facing the valley. As he exited his truck, he noted the vehicles
of the plumbing and electrical subcontractors parked on the drive. He crossed
the path through the newly landscaped yard to the covered front porch.
His parents would have preferred he live in a home like
this, ideally near them in Federal Heights. But he’d never give up his little
chalet in Midway. The mountain town gave him room to clear his head. Living
there, even with the daily commute, kept him sane.
Travis walked into the high-ceilinged, stone-paved foyer.
Plastic sheeting covered the floor, protecting it from dirty workboots. Martin
Delgado, the job supervisor, stood beyond the foyer in the open, airy sitting
room, talking on his cell phone. Travis waved, and Delgado quickly ended his
call.
“Hiya, boss,” Delgado said, clipping his phone onto his
belt.
“Are we on schedule?”
Delgado snorted. “Of course, man, you think I’d let you
down?”
Travis smiled. “Good, because I’m talking to Mr. Jasper five
times a day, and if this place goes into overtime, I may strangle him before he
ever gets the keys.”
“I feel for you. It’s almost done. Rachel’s putting up the
fixtures and plates and Harley is just about done with the finish plumbing.”
“Okay. I’m going to have a look around so I can tell Jasper
I was here in person, and everything’s fine.”
Delgado laughed and reached for his phone when it beeped.
“You do that, Travis. I’m glad I’m not you.”
Yeah. Being me is even less fun that it
looks.
Travis went up the wide, lavishly milled, curving stairs, meaning
to give the house a look from the top floor down. His intentions flew out the
nearest window when he walked into the master suite and found himself staring
up at the most perfectly curved rear-end he’d ever seen poured into faded
denim. Sweetly rounded below a narrow waist, it was the sort of ass that women
were forever trying to work off even though men begged for more.
He refocused, shaking off the buzz of appreciation zipping
straight to his groin, and forced himself to take in the whole picture. The
woman stood too far up for safety on a six-foot ladder, facing the opposite
wall. She twisted a light bulb into the pewter fixture on the coved ten-foot
ceiling. His gaze wandered up to dark brown, wavy hair. Pulled into a ponytail
at the nape of her neck, the waves cascaded down the length of her red t-shirt,
swaying at the top of her hips. He’d expected to find Rachel Garrett, his
electrician. This tiny, curvy thing was definitely not Rachel.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. He stepped forward. “Are you here with
Rachel?” He reached out and tapped the heel of her red tennis shoe. “Hello?”
She jumped at his touch, turning toward him as she took a
hasty step down.
Her foot missed the ladder rung.
Travis reacted instantly, catching her as she fell, stepping
back so she didn’t hit the ladder.
A surge of fire blew through his system on the heels of the
adrenaline rush, the heat pulsing through his chest as he held her, as his mind
identified where he ended and she began. One arm held her around her waist, the
other wrapped across her legs below her hips. For a moment, she stayed where
she’d landed, half over his right shoulder, then she straightened. That
position brought her breasts to eye-level. Her t-shirt, caught between them,
molded against her, making it damn near impossible for Travis to swallow.
Heart pounding, Travis forced his gaze upward, meeting her
dark brown eyes. The confusion in them threw ice water on his hormones. Small
hands pressed against his shoulders and he loosened his hold on her, trying to
ignore his physical interest as she slid down his frame to the floor.
She backed away a step, her gaze on her feet, her cheeks
dusted pink, and pulled earbuds from her ears. The music blared through them.
Ah. She hadn’t heard him.
“Hey, sorry I startled you,” he said. The rest of his words
died in his throat when her gaze lifted and she smiled. A sweet, welcoming
smile that lit up her entire self. It slid down inside him, stunning him and
leaving a trail of light. No one he’d ever known had a smile like that.
“It’s okay. Thanks for catching me before I hurt myself.”
She hitched her thumb over her shoulder at the ladder. “Guess I should have
taken the ‘do not stand on this step’ warning seriously, huh?” Her voice was
low, with a slight whiskey-rasp.
It was a punch to the gut after anticipating that she’d
sound like a little girl to match her small size. She couldn’t be more than,
what, five-two? A grin spread across his face, he couldn’t help it. “Pretty
sure the warning is there for a reason. Are you here with Rachel?”
“Yeah, I’m visiting her, and attempting to help, though I
clearly have no clue what I’m doing.” She shrugged. Her smile faded and the
part of Travis that had revived inside because of her smile died again, too. It
stung. How could he fix that?
“You were doing great, I messed you up.” He held out a hand.
“I’m Travis Holt.”
Her handshake was surprisingly firm. “Andri Miller.”
“Andri? Interesting name.”
“Short for Andromeda. I know, I know, my mother is Greek, so
I come by it honestly,” she added hastily as his smile widened.
“No, it’s a beautiful name.” The sweet blush colored her
cheeks again and his stomach flip-flopped.
Her gaze shifted to the right and she said, “You about got
me killed, sending me up on a ladder like that.”
Travis turned to see his electrician walk in. Rachel
Garrett, dark red hair looped through a Dodgers cap, looked Andri over. “You
appear unscathed.”
Andri pointed at Travis. “Thanks to the hero.”
A sharp jolt of pleasure hit him. He’d love to play the
successful hero again, anytime. He bit down on the thought that her need for a
hero was his fault. Always his fault, but he refused to let his failings shadow
her words.
Rachel stood beside him, tall enough to meet him eye to eye.
“Yep, that’s Travis. He spends his copious spare time rescuing damsels in
distress.” She nudged him with her shoulder, and that contact from his lifelong
friend snapped him out of the magnetic pull emanating from Andri.
Shaken by his reaction, he steeled himself and glanced at
his watch. “Unfortunately, speaking of spare time, I have none. Rach, you’ll be
finished today?”
“Yes. Another half-hour maybe, and we’re out of here.”
“Just what I wanted to hear, thank you.” He nodded at Andri.
“Nice meeting you.”
She smiled as she said goodbye, but he yanked his gaze away
from her. That smile was kryptonite, best avoided since he couldn’t hope to
fight the way she drew him without even trying.
He did a high-speed check of the rest of the mansion,
pausing only to confer briefly with Delgado. The plumber had already finished
and gone. Inspection complete, he beat a hasty retreat to the truck.
Andri.
He’d known Rachel forever
and never run into this friend of hers before. She’d said she was just visiting
Rach, so chances were he’d probably never see her again. And while that
realization pained him, it also relieved him.
There were two kinds of women. Those who played, and those
who didn’t. Andromeda Miller was decidedly one who didn’t. She sent off waves
of home and hearth and ‘till death do us part’ vibes. Absolutely off-limits,
and he knew precisely why—stability was the one thing he needed, the one thing
he wanted. The one thing he didn’t deserve.
It was also a hell of a catch-22. If she wasn’t what he
thought, well, he’d paid the price for mistaking a player for a stayer before,
with his ex. And if she really was what he read her to be, a good girl…damn, he
couldn’t go there. He’d only end up failing her somehow, like he failed
everyone else, and in the process, she’d learn to hate him. He knew if he ever
saw that light in her eyes replaced with hatred, it would utterly destroy him.
One more thing added to the pile. No. He simply wouldn’t
allow himself to go there. Period. No matter how much he wanted to cling to the
lifeline her smile had thrown him.
****
Andri stared out the electrical van window as Rachel drove
away from the mansion, the finish work complete. She twisted a lock of hair
around her finger, not really watching the passing landscape. These quiet
moments did nothing to help her escape the swirling soup of self-doubt
threatening to swamp her lately. She hated feeling like this, lost, unsure. And
now, oh, what those amazing blue eyes had done to her.
