Finding Refuge (3 page)

Travis climbed into the truck cab and looked over at his
little brother. Danny leaned against the door, his head rolled to the side
against the back of the seat. His cheekbones seemed sharper, his face looking
more gaunt. Damn, he looked older than twenty-five. Travis sighed and leaned
forward, setting his forehead against the steering wheel. Danny’s addictions
were aging him, too.

It would be a great help if, just once, his parents put in
some effort to take care of his brother, rather than turn a blind eye to their
youngest son’s problems. Yeah, and maybe some sweepstakes folks would show up
on his doorstep with an oversized check for a million bucks.

He sat up and started the truck. The flames of his anger had
ebbed, leaving him cold and dark inside. He pulled out of the parking lot,
debating where to take Danny. He glanced at the dashboard clock, then reached
over and shook him by the shoulder. “Hey, Dan.”

He yawned. “What?”

“Can I leave you safely at home or do I need to take you to
work with me so I can babysit you?”

Danny gave him a dark look. “Travis, I’m exhausted and I
feel like shit. Take me anywhere you want. All I’m going to do is sleep.”

Travis’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “How many
days have you been up?”

Danny rubbed his eyes and yawned again. “I went to a party
at Jared’s on Saturday.”

Saturday.
He shook his head.
“Daniel, today is Wednesday.”

Silence filled the cab as he concentrated on driving. Just
when he was certain his brother had fallen asleep again, Danny softly said,
“I’m sorry, Travis.”

The anger tightened into a protective hurt. “This has to
stop.”

“I know.”

“If I take you back to your place, will you promise to stay
there?”

“Yeah. Do you need me on the job tomorrow?”

“I always need you on the job.”

“I’ll be there, Travis. Clean and sober. I promise.”

Travis got Danny to the bed in his townhouse and unloaded the
motorcycle, then turned his focus to his mental to-do list as he left. He
waited for a break in the traffic, then pulled into the lane for the freeway
onramp. He needed to go into the office today, but he couldn’t work all these
emotions out of his system sitting at his desk. He bypassed the freeway
entrance and turned at the next traffic light, heading for the nearest job
site.

He knew better than to let Danny’s moment of remorse in the
truck count for anything, even if it was the first time he’d apologized for the
drugs. Just because Danny recognized he had a problem didn’t mean he had the
strength to avoid temptation. There had to be a way to help him, and he’d find
it.

He had to. The price of failure was way too damned high. He
could barely live with himself after losing one brother. To lose the second?
No. Never, ever going to happen, no matter what.

Travis grimaced. He should have taken the business trip to
Colorado when Dad gave him the option. It would have saved him from so much.
Danny. Mr. Jasper pestering him about the house.

A crystal-clear memory of catching Rachel’s friend,
Andromeda, slammed into his thoughts. He shook it off, unwilling to give
thoughts of her devastating smile and equally impressive curves any more time.
Bad enough that she’d invaded his dreams.

He forced his brain back to the Danny issue. It might have
done Dad some good to retrieve Danny from the hole of an apartment where his
skanky girlfriend lived. Maybe it would open his eyes. Confronted with Danny’s
substance abuse that blatantly, how could Dad continue to avoid the subject?

That’s exactly what he’d do, send his father next time. As
much as he hated to think it, there would be a next time.

Travis blew out a long breath. He’d feel better after he
pounded some nails. Nothing could reach him when he worked. Not paperwork. Not
Danny. Not pretty women with mythical names who he’d never see again.

****

Andri stood by the Garrett Electrical van, adjusting the
thick coil of insulated copper wire on her shoulder. She breathed deep, letting
out a contented sigh as she turned her face toward the sun. It was much warmer
today, though the air was still cooler here than in Arizona.

For the last couple of days, she’d gone to work with Rachel,
playing gofer, and she found herself appreciating the routine, so different
from her usual one. In Phoenix, she’d grab a piece of toast on her way out the
door in the morning, then put in ten hours or more at work, dealing with
network installations, systems malfunctions and end-user meltdowns, followed by
on-call emergencies once she got home. She’d squeezed in time here and there to
attend business functions with Pete and managed to catch an uninterrupted movie
once in a while.

Rachel’s more relaxed life had already forced her to slow
down, to remember how to breathe. The difference in her tension level amazed
her. She was sleeping far more than usual, working on eliminating the severe
sleep deficit she’d accumulated over the last few years. She even tried out
Rach’s unhurried breakfast routine this morning, enjoying the eggs and
hashbrowns she’d cooked up.

Andri looked around at the condominiums under construction
around her. A few units closer to the road, near the
Silver
Meadows by Holt Construction
sign, were completed and up for sale. Rachel
had parked in front of a framed building of four joined units. “So what’s the
plan today?” she asked as Rachel handed her a staple gun.

“Rough electrical. Lots of drilling, setting boxes, running
wire.” Rachel filled the pocket of her toolbelt with nails, then grabbed
another coil of wire, a drill, and a bucket of outlet and switch boxes. “You
can staple the wire unless you’d rather relax and read. Totally up to you.”

Andri lifted the staple gun in a salute. “I can handle
stapling. Lead the way.”

She followed Rachel up the makeshift front steps of the
first condo unit, pausing when she heard the rumble of a pickup truck pulling
in by the framed building south of where she stood. She turned and a delicious
shiver coursed down her spine when she saw Travis Holt climb out of the big
black truck. Shoot, what was he doing here? Didn’t Rachel say he was running
the construction company with his father? Yet there he was, buckling a tool
belt around his narrow hips. Wait, he was here to work, hands-on?

She wanted to walk up the steps and into the condo before he
glanced her way, but her feet were glued to the wood beneath them. And then she
no longer wanted to move. Travis stripped off his shirt in one graceful,
mouth-watering motion. A tingle started low in her belly. It radiated outward,
weakening her knees. He wasn’t built bulky. His muscles were lean, layered on
by hard work. He slathered sunscreen across his bare skin, muscles sinuously
shifting under the tanned surface. Her fingers itched with the urge to help him
lotion his back.

He pulled on a black White Sox cap and climbed the stairs
into the building. After a moment, she spotted him moving through the bare roof
trusses with the other men on the framing crew, nail gun in hand.

Andri swallowed hard. Great. He’d be right where she could
see him at a glance, laying plywood for the roof. How was she supposed to
concentrate on helping Rachel when he was out there, the sun glistening on his
bronzed skin?

She had promised Rachel she’d think about going out with him,
but, oh my, thinking about him at all could get seriously out of control now.
She shifted the wire coil on her shoulder and trudged into the building. Even
if she could keep herself from looking out the windows every five minutes, it
was going to be a very, very long day.

****

Travis loved hauling a nail gun around, forty feet above the
ground, the sun spreading warmth across his skin as he secured sheets of
plywood on a dramatically pitched roof. Nothing else forced him to live
completely in the moment the way roofing did. Under those conditions, thoughts
of anything outside work fled. His focus was simple. Get the work done, don’t
get killed. One wrong step, one slip, was all it took at this height.

He concentrated on the position of his feet and the balance
of his body weight. The pine scent of the wood engulfed him. He heard only the
staccato pounding of the framing crew’s guns blowing nails into boards.

Work. Just work.

He didn’t want to think about the paperwork piling up at the
office, or his intense frustration with Danny.

He didn’t want to think about the darkest brown eyes, or
long, thick, wavy hair, or that low, grainy voice.

He shoved everything aside. After a while, nothing reached
him but the work. Hard, methodic, muscle-killing labor.

The morning flew by, and when Travis paused to pull his ball
cap off and run his hand through his damp hair, he noticed the other guys were
heading down for lunch break.

He left his cap by the nail gun and walked across the roof. He
swung down through the trusses and dropped to the floor ten feet below, then
pounded down the temporary stairs to the ground floor. Outside, the men who
brought their lunches to the site sat on stacks of plywood and two-by-fours,
eating in the slight shade cast by the tall buildings.

“Hey, Travis!”

He turned at the shout and saw Rachel Garrett emerge from
the open doorway of the unit across the walkway. She waved, beckoning him as
she walked to her van, so Travis obliged and trotted over. “What’s up?”

Rachel grinned at him. “You just coming down for lunch?”

When he nodded, she said, “Come on, join me and Andri. We
brought plenty of food today.”

“Andri’s here?” His stupid heart jumped just saying her
name. He clamped down on his reaction.

“Yep, she’s playing gofer girl for me.”

No, Travis
. His stomach growled.
Hey, it was just lunch with a couple of friends. What could be the harm? “I
don’t even care if you brought chick food. I’m starving.”

Rachel grimaced as she opened the van and reached for the
cooler. “Oh, please, when have I ever eaten chick food?”

“Let’s see, what grade were you in when you were crushing on
my cousin, Alec? Tenth?”

“You’re seriously bringing that up?”

He laughed. “Yeah, and you were so worried he’d think you
were a tomboy that you wore a dress to the Memorial Day picnic and picked at a
teeny little salad when all of us knew you would have killed everyone there for
a steak.”

She swatted his arm. “And you let me think he liked me even
though he had a girlfriend, jerk. How does leftover chicken and potato salad
grab you?”

“Works for me.”

“Good.” She pressed the cooler against his chest until he
took it from her.

Travis followed Rachel inside to the open kitchen area,
where Andri knelt on the wood floor, smoothing out an old blue blanket. She
looked up, glanced from him to Rachel, her brows rising in some unspoken
question.

Rachel hitched her thumb at him. “Company for lunch.” She
took the cooler from him as Andri’s gaze connected with his. For a moment, she
hesitated, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, and his knees went a
little weak. He grinned back. Damn, she was so pretty. And that smile pulled at
him, hard, making him fight to remember why she was supposed to be off limits.

Travis lowered himself to the floor across from Andri as
Rachel dug in the cooler, handing him plates and forks. He set one of each in
front of her, then reached out, offering a set to Andri. “I wasn’t expecting to
see you on the job.”

“I’m becoming quite an efficient little helper.” She took
the plate, her fingertips grazing his knuckles, sending awareness zinging
through his hand, up his arm, coursing through him. Man, he was on really thin
ice if he got a thrill from a tiny touch like that.

Rachel nodded, handing Andri a bowl of potato salad. “You
are a good helper, and I like bossing you around.”

Andri giggled, and the rich, textured sound poured through
him, burning into his stomach. Yep, he had it right the first time he saw her.
Kryptonite. This was a woman who could strip him to the core without even trying.
He turned his attention to filling his plate. He needed a change of subject,
had to focus on something, anything besides Andromeda Miller. “Rach, how did
your parents enjoy their anniversary cruise?”

“Loved it. If they could afford to spend retirement on a
ship full time, they probably would.”

He laughed. “Sounds like Uncle Mac. I haven’t seen your
brother in months. Is he still working on his degree?”

She shook her head. “Nah, he didn’t have enough time for it.
I don’t think Ian will go back to school for real until his ski career is over.
He’s been smart with his race winnings, plus he doesn’t pay rent, so he can be
a bum for a few years, even if it all ended tomorrow. He’s such a brat.”

Andri said, “Doesn’t that drive your parents crazy, watching
Ian play for a living?”

Rachel reached for chicken leg, a broad smile on her face.
“Oh, it might look like he plays, but he works incredibly hard just to stay in
fighting shape.”

The three of them talked lightly through lunch, discussing
the weather, sports scores, world news. Finally, Rachel stood up, leaving her
empty plate on the blanket. “Back to work for me, but don’t you two run off on
my account.” She walked away, taking the stairs up to the next floor two at a
time.

Travis took a deep breath as Rachel left, steadying the
sudden staccato beat of his heart. What was left of his appetite vanished the
moment he found himself alone with Andri. She set her own plate aside as he
watched her. For a moment, she looked down at her hands, pressed against her knees,
then she started cleaning up, stacking the plates and replacing everything in
the cooler.

He couldn’t stop himself. “How long are you going to be
here, visiting Rachel?”