Give Me Strength (18 page)

“You heard me say that?”

“That life wasn’t meant for you?”

I nodded and closed my eyes.

He sighed heavily and reaching out, trailed his
fingers through the wild curls of my hair. “Life is hard, Quinn,
and the hardest part is being yourself in a world of people trying
to make you someone you’re not. I saw you standing apart from
everything that was the same, and that was beautiful, not sad. When
I was holding you and inside of you, I watched your eyes come
alive, and fuck spring because you were hotter than summer, and I
want to see that again.” His voice was low and as I opened my eyes
and met his, he brushed his thumb across my lips. “I want to see
you smile, and I want to touch you again and feel you burn brighter
than the sun while I’m doing it.”

My heart swelled until I thought it would beat
its way out of my chest. I reached up and covered his hand with my
own.

“Travis…”

I stood there, maybe breathing—I couldn’t be
sure—but wanting to tell him that no one had ever said anything so
beautiful to me in all my life. That no one had ever looked at me
the way he was doing right now—as though nothing else existed but
me.

My lips parted as I tried to find the words, and
at the invitation, his mouth slammed down on mine. I moaned at the
wild force as he thrust his tongue in my mouth, arms winding
tightly around me until I was sure I’d never breathe again and
didn’t care to. Travis lifted me and turned, backing towards the
couch until he was sitting down, my legs straddling him. He groaned
as my tongue rubbed against his, greedily wanting more and fearing
it would never be enough. My hands slid up the hard ridges of his
chest, reaching his neck and twining through his hair until he
broke the kiss, breathing heavy as he shifted his lips to my neck,
his tongue licking a path downwards as my body burned.

“Oh God,” I moaned breathlessly, my back
arching.

“Want you so much,” he muttered, slipping his
hands beneath my tight shirt, frantically pushing my bra out of the
way until warm naked skin filled his palms.

Someone’s phone rang. We both ignored it.
Instead, Travis returned his lips to mine, his hips grinding into
me along with his tongue.

The phone kept ringing.

“Shit,” he muttered, and it stopped as he pulled
away.

It was good that he did because there was no way
I could. He could have ripped off my pants and filled me right then
and there, and I would have been his. That was not good. Anyone
could have walked in. In fact, we were both
supposed
to be
working.

I informed him of that very fact and he
chuckled. “Maybe you are, but we have enough security out there
that I’m not really needed. I’m just here for you.”

“Me?”

Travis cocked a brow. “You’re a full time
security job yourself.”

My mouth fell open. “I am not.”

His eyes dropped to my lips. “Careful doing
that. It seems to get you in trouble.”

I scrambled off his lap, brushing at my hair and
tugging my bra back into place. Nodding at the table where my iPad
and pen sat, I said, “I need to do…some stuff.”

Travis stood and my cheeks heated at the obvious
bulge he was adjusting in his pants.

I tried not to look. “Maybe you shouldn’t go out
there with uh, that.”

He winked. “
That
is not gonna go down if
I stay in here. I’ll leave you to your stuff, but tomorrow night
you’re all mine. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“You mean like a…date?”

Travis gave me a short nod.

I’ve never been on a date before.
Even
with Ethan, most of our time together had been spent at his house,
at the beach, or at school.

His eyes widened and I cringed. “Did I just say
that out loud?”

“Uh huh.” He reached the door and opened it,
letting the wild beat of music pump through. “Don’t worry. I’ll be
sure to make it good for you,” he said with a wink and shut the
door behind him.

I shivered and practised deep breathing for
several moments. Minutes later, the door flew open and Mac strode
through. She eyeballed the walls of the dressing room with
exaggerated fashion. “If these four walls could talk, I bet they’d
have a lot to say, but unfortunately they can’t.” She shook her
head in mock sadness before narrowing those knowing eyes on me. “So
spill.”

“How do you even know?”

“Because my brother came back all tight lipped,
but his eyes were telling me a different story.”

“Oh? What story was that?”

“The same story they told when he was twelve and
got the cadet go-kart he’d been hounding our parents about since he
was eight.”

I averted my eyes because if she saw all that in
his, imagine what she saw in mine?

I woke the next morning to shouts from
downstairs and dogs barking in the yard, telling me the duplex was
already heaving with activity. This wasn’t unusual—what was unusual
was that I still couldn’t get used to it. Living here was loud and
noisy, and if you wanted to be heard, you had to throw yourself
into the fray and start yelling. I wasn’t quite at the yelling
stage yet, but I was getting there, particularly when I found my
favourite, freshly washed, pink lace pillow covers gracing Henry’s
bed. He’d simply shrugged at me and said he didn’t care if they
were pink; they smelled nice. Frog was always hogging the couch and
the remote, making me miss my reality television shows. The season
finale of The Voice was on just the other night, and I had no idea
who won. Cooking dinner was something I’d found myself doing more
often than not and cooking, for sometimes up to six or more people
at a time, involved planning. One night I gave up and just cooked
poached eggs on toast which didn’t appear to bother anyone.

Slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a plain
fitted tank top, I scraped my hair into a ponytail as I jogged down
the stairs. Mac and Henry were on the couch along with Evie, all
eating identical bowls of Coco Pops and watching music videos.

“‘Bout time you woke up, you lazy asshead,” Mac
mumbled around a crunchy mouthful.

I rubbed at my eyes. “What’s the time?”

“Early,” Henry growled. “Thanks to Evie.” He
elbowed her in the arm and a trickle of milk sloshed over the rim
of her bowl and into her lap.

Evie narrowed her eyes. “If you elbow me one
more time, you’re going to be wearing my breakfast on your
face.”

Henry made an “oooh I’m scared” face while she
brushed the milk droplets from her jeans. I curled up in the
armchair, and Rufus let out a whine from the back door. Peter was
standing in front of him scratching at the glass as though zombies
were on the attack and they needed inside to live.

“I should feed Rufus.”

“Done,” Mac announced.

“Oh.” I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mac.”

“Yeah, well. I can be nice.”

Evie let out a shout of laughter, and Mac
narrowed her eyes. “I’m letting you stay here, aren’t I?” she said
to Evie.

“Stay?” I echoed.

“Rats,” Evie supplied with a shudder.

“Rats?”

Evie nodded. “There’s a rat family living in our
house at Bondi. They have a camp at ground zero. I saw it when
Jared ripped up the floorboards. It’s not pretty. They have tents
and sleeping bags and some sort of hi-tech equipment that tells
them when we’re in bed trying to sleep because they start scurrying
from base camp into the ceiling as though it’s the holy grail of
all places to have fun. I’ve tried to tell Jared that the whole
house needs a wrecking ball, not a renovation, but he just looks at
me like
I’m
the idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” Mac retorted. She clanked
her spoon into her now empty bowl and stood up.

“Anyway…” Evie ignored Mac “… Jared and I are
here for a couple of days while the place is being fumigated for
every pest that ever lived.”

“You’re the biggest pest that ever lived,” Mac
shouted from the kitchen as she rinsed her bowl and set it on the
sink. “Why aren’t they fumigating you?”

Evie twisted in her seat and glared at Mac.
“What the fuck, Mac? Someone steal your favourite shoes?”

Mac grinned and tossed the tea towel she’d been
drying her hands with on the bench. “My shiny red slingbacks are
just fine, thank you very much. I’m just in a good mood about
Melbourne.”

After informing Mac in the dressing room about
the festival booking, she’d still managed to wrangle the date
details out of me as though I’d already been plied with her
malevolent mojitos.

The date.

My God.

Had I actually agreed to it? I shook my head.
No. He’d
told
me we were going on a date, not
asked
me. There was no opportunity to say no. Would I have been able to
say no anyway? I shook my head again. When Travis was in my space,
all sense went flying out the window. Mac had been excited, even
after telling me we’d gone about it all ass backwards—sleeping with
each other and then going on a date weeks later but I could sleep
at night knowing she approved of my ‘ballsy tactics.’

Finished with my internal conversation, I pushed
out of the chair and stood up, stifling a yawn. “I need to get
started on organising the Melbourne trip.”

Mac returned to the living room and flopped onto
the couch. “Rubbish. It’s your day off. I’ll do it.”

“But I don’t have anything else going on,” I
said over my shoulder while wandering into the kitchen. I opened
the fridge and examined the barren, sad looking shelves. “Maybe I
could do a food shop then?”

“Sandwich and Henry are doing the shop today,”
she announced loudly because Henry was holding down the volume
button on the remote until the sound breached decibel
regulations.

“So what am I supposed to…” My voice trailed off
as an almighty knock thundered at the door, and it swung open
before anyone could move to answer it. A petite, dark-haired guy no
taller than I was came barging in.

Mac smirked at me over her shoulder. “You’re
going shopping.”

“What?”

“You’re going shopping,” she yelled.

“Just come on in, Tim,” Evie said to the little
guy with obvious sarcasm.

He huffed and flung himself in the armchair I’d
just vacated. “Lord knows I’d be fucking grey with one foot in the
grave before you got off your fat backside to answer it. No point
in wasting the day.”

“This is Tim, Quinn,” Evie called out. “He works
reception for Jamieson and Valentine Consulting. Oh, and he talks
more crap than a politician, so don’t believe a word he says.”

“Oh, you are just too funny, Evie,” Tim replied.
His brown eyes, fringed in the prettiest lashes I’d ever seen on a
guy, found their way to mine. “Quinn, my new best friend,” he said
with a glare aimed at Evie. He came over to the kitchen to shake my
hand, Mac hot on his heels.

“So what’s going on with you and Travis? He’s my
boss you know, and hot, so it’s my right as your new best friend to
get all the details.”

Mac took hold of my hand as though to yank me
away, and Tim grabbed my other hand, narrowing his eyes on Mac.
“Back off, Mac. I was here first, only polite enough not to muscle
her into the pantry like your usual M.O.”

I had to give the little guy credit for having
the balls to stare Mac down. I’m not sure who won because the front
door slammed, and Jake wandered through into the kitchen, eyeing
our odd little clinch with raised brows before opening the fridge.
Mac shoved me into the walk-in pantry, Tim right behind us, and
wedged the door shut.

The three of us stood there in the dark, panting
a little at the scuffle. I heard a muffled sound and a dim light
clicked on before flickering off again.

“Shit. The bulb blew.”

“So Quinn and Travis have a thing,” Mac
announced as we stood in the dark. “That’s why you’re here, Tim.
Quinn has a date tonight and needs outfitting, and I need to get
Melbourne organised so it’s in your hands.”

“Mac, it’s the movies. I’m sure I have something
suitable.”

“No you don’t,” she replied without
hesitation.

“Why are we wedged in the pantry?”

“Because Jake’s out there and he’s pissing me
off.”

“But he only just walked in the door.”

“Exactly,” she growled.

“This little pantry summit is directed at the
wrong person,” Tim decided. “Seems to me that if Quinn and Travis
are going on a date, they’re well on their way to getting shit
together. What’s going on with you and Jake?”

I’d been wondering this myself, so I waited with
interest to hear her response.

“No comment,” Mac snapped.

“Ha! We all know
no comment
is euphemism
for shit is going on. Right, Quinn?”

I could hear the withering tone in Tim’s voice
and replied, “We do?”

“Shove your euphemisms where the sun don’t
shine, Timmy boy.”