Not His Type (14 page)

“Brooke, calm
down,” Travis said easily.  “You know I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.”

“Travis, you
just don’t get it, do you?”

“Brooke, what is
there to get?” he asked.  He pushed his hands through his short hair, a gesture
of pure frustration.  “You need transportation until you get your car back, and
I
have
transportation to offer!  Why can’t you just accept my help?”

Without a word,
Brooke reached for the door handle; before Travis could jump out and make it
around to her door, she slid out of the passenger seat.  She stumbled just a
bit when her feet hit the ground; by the time Travis had hurried around the
truck, Brooke had recovered and was walking toward her house.  This time,
Travis didn’t follow her; he stood beside his Hummer, shaking his head in
frustration, watching her disappear inside her front door.

Chapter
18

The next
morning, Travis walked out onto his front porch and headed across the yard to
Brooke’s house.  His steps slowed when he realized her garage door was open and
she was in the garage inspecting her bike.

“Good morning,
Bunny-girl,” Travis said.  “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking
my bike,” she answered casually.

“You’re not
thinking about riding it to work, are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Brooke, come
on, sweetheart,” Travis said.  He sighed heavily.  “Why does everything have to
be a fight with you?  I’m going to the bakery today anyway, remember?  Can’t
you just accept a ride?”

“I’m sorry,”
Brooke said, straightening to stand upright again.  “I didn’t mean to sound
ungrateful, Travis.  I just hate feeling like I’m bothering you.”

“If it were a
bother, I wouldn’t have offered.  And remember, this all goes back to the
accident, so it’s indirectly my fault you can’t ride your bike.  Come on, let’s
get going.”

As Travis drove
to the bakery, Brooke pondered his words.  She wondered how long he’d feel
responsible for her.  And she wondered what it would feel like to have him want
to be with her because he
wanted
to be with her.  Brooke rolled her eyes
at her stupidity; that particular question wouldn’t be answered anytime in her lifetime.

“So,” Brooke
said suddenly, giving herself a mental shake.  “Have you had a chance to
contact Blair yet?  I think she’d be a great help to you!”

“Ah, yeah,”
Travis said.  “I met with her yesterday.”

“And?”

“And she has a
very impressive résumé.”

“So you’re going
to hire her?” Brooke asked happily.  “Oh, she’ll be so excited to get out of
the diner!”

Travis hated to
put a damper on Brooke’s happiness.  Then he remembered that Blair Carlyle had
no such concern for Brooke.

“No, Brooke,”
Travis said, his voice gentle.  “I’m not hiring Blair.”

“No?  Why not?”

“She just didn’t
seem like the right fit for my company,” he answered.

“Really?” Brooke
queried.  “That sounds a little snooty, you know.”

If you only
knew
, Travis thought.

“No, sometimes
you just know when something isn’t going to work,” Travis answered vaguely.

“Huh,” Brooke
murmured.  She frowned slightly.  “Well, maybe I can think of someone else.”

“Hey, you were
taking business courses, weren’t you?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, maybe
you’d be willing to help me out some in the evenings,” Travis said.  “If you’re
not too tired from working in the bakery.  And I’d be willing to pay you, too.”

“What kind of
help do you need?” Brooke asked.

Travis told
Brooke the same thing he’d told Blair, saying, “I just don’t have time to keep
up with it and handle sales presentations and everything else that seems to be
coming up.”  He glanced over at her.  “How about it, Bunny-girl?  Just till I
find someone permanent?”

“I guess I can
do that,” she agreed as Travis parked in front of Babycakes.  She smiled at him
as the idea seemed to take hold.  “Sure, I’d be happy to help you out, Travis!”

Travis was
grinning when he walked inside the bakery’s front door.  Brooke immediately
headed back to the kitchen after a brief greeting for Riley.  Travis placed a
large box on the floor near the door.

“Morning,
Riley,” Travis said cheerfully.

“How’s it going,
Travis?” Riley greeted in return.  He eyed the box at Travis’ feet.  “Do you
need anything from me to get started?  Do I need to move anything?”  He
gestured at the tables near the door.

“No, I can work
around everything,” Travis answered.  He grimaced.  “It’s going to be noisy,
though.  Is there a better time to do the front door?  I can start in the back
if that’s better?”

“Yeah, that
would probably be best,” Riley agreed.  He nodded toward the door where Brooke
had just gone.  “Go ahead and start in the back.  Things usually slow down a
bit up here after the morning rush, and before noon.”

Travis lifted
the large box as if it were weightless and carried it back to the kitchen. 
Jazz looked up and smiled in greeting.

“Morning,
Travis!”

“Good morning,
Jazz,” Travis said.  “Riley and I thought it would be best if I start back
here.  I can work up front when the morning rush is over.”

“Sounds good to
me,” Jazz agreed.  She glanced at her watch and looked at Brooke.  “I’ve got to
get ready for a meeting.  I have a bride coming in early to sample those cakes
we made yesterday afternoon.  I’ll be in my office if you need me, but I think
you’ll be fine, Brooke.”

Jazz pushed
through the door.  Riley waited on the other side, one brow arched, his blue
eyes twinkling.

“What?” Jazz
asked innocently.

“I happen to
know you have all the wedding binders ready and waiting,” Riley answered,
sliding his arms around his wife’s waist.  “Are you playing matchmaker?”

“I think they
just need to spend more time together,” Jazz said, tossing a conspiratorial
glance at the kitchen door.  “Riley, tell me you don’t think they belong
together.”

“I have to
admit, love, in the short amount of time we’ve known the two of them, there
does seem to be something there.”  He grinned.  “Even if neither of them knows
it yet!”

In the kitchen,
Travis moved to stand near Brooke, watching her as she expertly and efficiently
frosted a tray of cupcakes.  She continued what she was doing, not looking at
him.

“Don’t you have
work to do?” she asked pointedly.

“You never let a
guy have any fun, do you?” Travis asked.  He looked down at the dark frosting. 
“What kind of frosting is that?”

“It’s dark
chocolate flavored with an orange liqueur,” Brooke answered.  She smiled.  “The
cupcakes are flavored with the same liqueur.”

“Is it as good
as it sounds?”

Without
thinking, Brooke squirted a little blob of frosting onto her index finger.  She
held the finger in front of Travis’ face.  At the same time Brooke realized
what she’d done, Travis caught her hand as she would’ve pulled it back.  His
blue eyes locked on Brooke’s, he bent his head and slid the frosted tip of her
finger into his mouth.  Brooke froze, every nerve alive and tingling as she
felt Travis’ warm, wet mouth sucking the frosting from her finger, his tongue
swirling around the tip.  Her heart seemed to stutter in her chest, and she
couldn’t drag her eyes from the twin flames of his blue gaze.

The little bell
over the front door jingled, piercing Brooke’s consciousness.  She started and
pulled her finger from Travis’ lips with a little
pop
!  She took a step
back, wiping her hand on her apron.  She opened her mouth, but no sound came
out; she cleared her throat and tried again.

“I should finish
these,” she said, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of the cupcakes.

Travis grinned
at her, saying in a low voice, “You probably should.”  He pointed to the back
door.  “I’ll just get to work myself.”

Without another
word, Brooke pushed through the kitchen door.  She walked past a startled Riley
and out the front door.  Outside, she sucked in a lungful of the chilly morning
air.  Sweet mercy, Brooke had never experienced anything like that in her
life!  Granted, Brooke’s life so far had been very tame, downright boring, some
might say, particularly where men were concerned.  But never in her wildest
dreams had Brooke imagined a
finger
could be such an erogenous zone! 
She could still feel Travis’ tongue licking the sticky frosting from her
finger, and she stared at the digit in question as if it belonged to someone
else.

In the bakery,
back in the kitchen, Travis silently set his tools out and began working.  A
little line formed between his eyebrows.  What had he been thinking, pulling a
stunt like that with Brooke Valentine?  He’d have been an idiot not to have figured
out his little neighbor was attracted to him; Travis had caught her looking at
him too many times not to notice her attraction.  He certainly didn’t intend to
lead her on, so why had he done that thing with the frosting on her finger? 
Travis was more than a little confused; all he knew was he’d looked down at
Brooke smiling up at him, seen a tiny little flicker in her violet eyes, and
instinct had taken over.

Brooke walked
past Riley a second time.  He caught her arm just before she walked into the
kitchen, concern on his face.

“Everything
okay, Brooke?” he asked.

“What?” she
asked.  “Oh!  Oh, yes…um…everything is fine.  I just needed a little air,
that’s all.”

Brooke walked
into the kitchen.  Silently, she picked up her pastry bag and resumed working. 
From the corner of his eye, Travis saw her frown a little as she concentrated
on the cupcakes; the tip of her pink tongue emerged from between her lips as
she worked.  Suddenly, Travis had an image of himself kissing and licking more
of that frosting from Brooke’s lips.  The drill bit slipped from his hand; it
hit his boot first, then the floor with a loud clang.  Brooke started,
squeezing the pastry bag, squirting frosting on the table.  The metal drill bit
rolled to a stop against the toe of her sneaker.

“Sorry,” Travis
muttered.  “It slipped.”  He bent and picked up the bit.  “I’ll get out of your
way.”

Brooke watched
Travis move away, wondering where his teasing smile had gone.  She shook her
head, thinking she’d done it again.  She must’ve had a strange look on her face
or something, something that gave her away to Travis.  Now he felt uncomfortable,
knowing she was attracted to him.  Brooke made up her mind right then to work
on her bike tonight; she’d make sure it was okay after her accident, and she
could ride it tomorrow.  The less time she spent in close proximity to Travis
Cooper, the better!

Chapter
19

By noon, Travis
had finished installing sensors on the back door and around the windows in the
front of the bakery.  He looked at his watch and pushed open the door to the
kitchen.

“Hey, Cupcake!”
he said.  His smile was back in place.  “You have lunch plans?”

“I brought a
sandwich,” she answered a little warily.

“I didn’t.  You
wouldn’t make me eat alone, would you?”

“Oh, he’s very
smooth,” Jazz whispered to Riley.  They were unabashedly listening from the
office.

“Well, I…I did
bring my lunch,” Brooke said reluctantly.

“Go on, Brooke!”
Riley called, winking at Jazz.  “You’ve been stuck in that kitchen all
morning!  You could use a break and some fresh air.”

“See, even your
bosses agree,” Travis teased her.  “Come on.  We won’t go far, and I’ll have
you back here before you know it!  Scout’s honor!”

Brooke hesitated
a moment before untying her apron.  She followed Travis out into the cool sunny
day.  She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and walked along the
sidewalk beside him; Travis matched his long stride to her shorter one

“Where are we
going?” Brooke asked.

“There’s a
little seafood place about a block away,” Travis replied.  He glanced at her. 
“You like seafood?  They have the best clam chowder you can get outside of New England!”

“Sounds good,”
she answered.

They walked
along together in the brisk wind.  Travis reached over wordlessly and wrapped
his scarf – the one he’d draped around Brooke’s neck the previous morning –
more securely around her neck.  He smiled at her.

“Better,” he
said simply.

Since Babycakes
stayed open during the lunch rush, it was after one when Brooke followed Travis
into the restaurant.  They were seated immediately and a waiter brought ice
water and a basket of warm bread.  Travis looked at Brooke.

“Do you want to
try the chowder?” he asked.  “Or would you rather look at a menu first?”

“No, the chowder
sounds wonderful right now,” Brooke said, rubbing her hands together.