Not His Type (10 page)

“Aw, Brooke,”
Travis said, his voice low and gentle.  “I’m sorry.”

“Not your
fault,” Brooke said shrugging.  “And again, I am not your problem.”

Brooke finally
raised her head; tears made tracks through the mud on her face.  Suddenly, she
rose and dug in her pocket; she pulled out a handful of money, the bills
wrinkled and damp.  She took Travis’ hand, turned it over and pressed the wad
of money into it.

“That’s for the
electric bill,” she said evenly.

Brooke turned
and limped toward her bedroom.  Travis watched her go.  At the door, she spoke
over her shoulder without looking at him.

“You can let
yourself out,” she said quietly.

Chapter
12

Travis remained
where he was, listening to the sounds of Brooke running a bath.  He stared at
the money wadded in the palm of his hand.  The woman’s pride was going to be
the death of Travis, he just knew it.

Travis rose and
went to Brooke’s kitchen, where he set about making a cup of tea.  He looked in
the pantry where he knew he’d find some canned soup; he’d put it there himself
after a quick shopping trip when he’d noticed how bare Brooke’s kitchen was. 
He was stirring the soup when Brooke entered the kitchen, rubbing a towel over
her still damp hair.  She stopped when she saw Travis.

“You’re still
here,” she observed.  She sighed.  “Travis, what are you doing?”

“Heating soup. 
Making tea.  What does it look like?”

“No,” Brooke
replied.  She made an encompassing gesture with her arms.  “Paying the hospital
bill, I kind of understood.  But checking up on me at work?  Coming to the
bakery to see if I was still working?  Coming to look for me when I didn’t
answer my phone?  The electric bill?  Soup and tea?  Those things, I don’t
understand, Travis.”

“Brooke, no
offense,” Travis began, “but since we’ve met, I’ve seen you sprawled and
bleeding in the street, cold and wet and sitting in the dark because your
power’s been shut off, upset over your mother apparently altering a check you
wrote her, worried over a minimum wage job, and now, tonight, running through
the rain in the dark from some creep who tried to assault you!  You’ll excuse
me if I think it looks like you could use a little help.”  He sat in a chair
across from her.  “Is it so hard for you to accept a little help, a little
compassion?”

“In my
experience, the price for a little help is usually more than I’m willing to
pay.”  Her deep violet eyes met his crystal blue ones, her gaze steady.  “Like
sexual favors in return for a ride home.”

Brooke watched as
a muscle twitched in Travis’ jaw.  The look on his face made her think he
wanted to punch someone again.  After a long moment, he seemed to regain control
of his anger.  Travis held his hands up, palms facing her.

“I promise you,
Bunny-girl,” he said solemnly.  “I don’t want anything in return for helping
you.”  He paused.  “No, that’s not quite true.  All I ask in return is your
friendship.”  He extended one hand.  “Do we have a deal?”

Brooke hesitated
for so long, Travis began to think she wasn’t going to shake his hand.  He
couldn’t remember ever having met anyone so stubborn and independent.  Finally,
she reached out and placed her own small hand in his larger one and shook it
firmly.  She quickly withdrew her hand then and began to eat her soup.  Suddenly,
she stopped and looked up at Travis.

“Do I even want
to ask where this soup came from?” she asked him, eyes narrowed at him.  “I
know what my pantry and fridge looked like.”

“Probably not,
no,” he answered, smiling sheepishly.  He leaned back in his chair and sipped
soup directly from his own mug.  “So what are you going to do about Schmidt?”

The way Travis
dragged the man’s name out made it sound like a vulgar word that rhymed. 
Brooke looked at him curiously.

“Brooke, you
can’t just let him get away with what he did!”

“I don’t think
he got away with it, do you?” she asked.  “I saw you punch him in the face.”

“I’m talking
about the police, Brooke!” Travis growled.

“It would be my
word against his, Travis.  Let it go.”  She sighed.  “But I won’t be going back
to Hot Diggity’s.  Guess I’ll have to find another part-time job.”

“Aren’t you
going to work full-time at the bakery?”

“Well, yes,”
Brooke admitted.  She shrugged.  “I’m going to have to drop my courses at
school anyway, so I might as well work full-time, right?”

“You quit
school?”

“Yes,” she
sighed.  “I missed tests in two classes.”

They remained
silent for a few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts.  Finally,
Travis rose; he placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.  He turned back to
face Brooke; he leaned back, his hips against the counter, arms folded across
his chest.

“What are your
plans for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Church,” Brooke
answered tiredly.  “Then probably nothing.”

“Can I go to
church with you?”

“You?”

“What, you think
I’m some pagan?” Travis chuckled.  “I go to church.”

“Um…okay, sure,”
Brooke finally agreed.

“Wow, thanks,”
he said wryly.  “I’ve never had to practically beg to get someone to let me go
to church with them.”

“Sorry,” she
murmured, blushing slightly.  “You caught me off guard.”

Brooke yawned
and Travis grinned at her, asking, “You took pain pills, didn’t you?”  She
nodded.  “Good girl.”  He straightened away from the counter.  “I’m gonna get
outta here and let you go to bed then.  Get some rest.”  Travis startled Brooke
when he bent over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “G’night,
Bunny-girl.  See you in the morning.”

Brooke stared
after him until she heard the front door shut behind him.  She rose and put her
own mug in the dishwasher, then went to her bedroom where Boo already lay on
the bed waiting for her.  Brooke turned off the light and slid between the
sheets.  She slept almost immediately.

Chapter
13

The next
morning, Travis knocked on Brooke’s front door.  His Hummer sat in the
driveway, already warm and ready to go.  The door swung open and Travis smiled
down at Brooke.  She wore a simple straight black skirt with a royal blue
sweater.  Her dark hair hung loose, falling softly around her shoulders.  She
tilted her head back and returned Travis’ smile.

“Good morning!”
Brooke said cheerfully.  She stepped back.  “Come in, please.  I just need to
grab a jacket.”  She walked toward the closet, speaking over her shoulder. 
“Would you like some coffee?  I can pour some into a travel mug for you, if
you’d like.”

“I’m good, thank
you,” Travis answered.  “You look very nice.”

Brooke gave him
a cheeky grin as she said, “So do you.”  She pulled on a black wool overcoat. 
“I’m ready.”

Only if one
looked very closely would one notice the worn spot at the hem of one sleeve on
Brooke’s coat.  Careful inspection would also reveal a missing button on one
sleeve, and a slightly crooked line of stitches where a pocket was repaired. 
The coat was also just the slightest bit too large for Brooke’s frame, making
Travis wonder if it were second-hand.  Clamping his lips closed over a sigh, he
placed a hand at the small of Brooke’s back and ushered her out of her house. 
He gave her a hand up into his Hummer, then went around to the driver’s side.

“Nice and warm
in here, isn’t it?” Brooke noted.  She smiled.  “I can’t say I’m completely
sorry my car is out of commission right now, because the heat’s not working
very well.”

“If you don’t
mind my asking, just how old is that car?”

“It’s an eighty-two.”

“You drive a
Chrysler Cordoba that’s older than you are?” Travis’ head swung sideways to
look at her for a moment.  “Where did you get it?”

“It was my
grandpa’s,” she answered.  “It’s been a good car.”  She gave a tiny little
sigh.  “Although lately I seem to spend more time under the hood than behind
the wheel.  I didn’t even look at it last night to see if I could figure out
what was wrong.  I just wanted to get home.”

“Regular grease
monkey, are you?” he teased.

“Not by choice,”
she chuckled.  “It’s just been less expensive to try to maintain the car
myself, rather than take it to a garage.”

“Why don’t we
take a look at it this afternoon?  Together.”

“You don’t have
to –“ Brooke began, only to be cut off by Travis.

“I know I don’t
have to, Brooke,” he said.  “I’m offering.  Okay?”

“We’ll see.”

When they
arrived at the small church Brooke attended, she immediately felt eyes upon
them.  She could only imagine people were wondering what a man like Travis
Cooper was doing in the company of Brooke Valentine.  Travis, on the other
hand, realized there were just as many pairs of male eyes following Brooke as
there were female gazes on him.  He wondered if any of the men had ever asked
Brooke out on a date.

Brooke slid into
a pew and Travis sat beside her.  It was only a minute or two before a man
stood up at the front of the church and began to lead a song.  Travis reached
for a songbook and held it between him and Brooke; after the briefest of
hesitations, Brooke held the book with him.  She opened her mouth to sing, but
stopped and turned to look at Travis in surprise.  His voice was deep when he
spoke, but when he sang, it sent shivers dancing up and down Brooke’s spine;
his voice was deep and rich, a warm honeyed baritone.  Travis sensed Brooke’s
gaze on him; he smiled down at her and continued singing.  After a moment,
Brooke turned her attention back to the songbook in her hands and began to sing
as well.

During the
sermon, Travis rested his arm along the back of the bench behind Brooke’s shoulders. 
She could feel his solid warmth near her body and wondered what it would be
like to know a man like Travis loved you.  A blush heating Brooke’s cheeks
followed that thought.  Travis glanced down at her curiously.  She gave him a
half-hearted smile and looked away.

When church was
over, Travis looked over at Brooke as they rose to leave and asked, “How about
lunch?  My treat.”

“Travis….”

“Brooke, you
have to eat, right?”  He took her hand firmly in his and pulled her along to
the parking lot.  “Come on, humor me.”

Travis helped
Brooke into his truck, his hands at her waist.  The engine rumbled to life and
Travis pulled out of the parking lot.  His glance flicked to Brooke, then back
to the road.

“What are you
hungry for?” he asked her.

“Travis, I’ve
eaten greasy diner food and hot dogs at work for the past two years,” she said
dryly.  “I’m really not that picky.”

Travis smiled at
her humor.  The restaurant he chose was a tiny little Mexican restaurant and
Brooke recognized it as one she’d eaten at a few times.  Travis pulled into a
parking space and came around to open the passenger door; he helped Brooke
down, being careful of her leg.  As they walked to the front door, he glanced
down at her and spoke.

“How’s the leg?”
he asked.  “No ill affects after last night?”

“A little
stiff,” Brooke answered.  “But that could just be the usual stiffness after the
accident.  I’m okay.”

When they were
seated, Travis looked over his menu at Brooke.  As if feeling his gaze on her,
she glanced up.  Her eyes twinkled at him and she smiled.

“What?” she
asked.

“I was just
thinking,” he said.  “You seem different today.”

“Well, yeah,”
she agreed.  “I’m not dirty, wet, bleeding or any combination of the three.”

“Ah, that must
be it!” Travis laughed.  The server approached, they placed their orders, and
the server left them alone again.  Travis looked at Logan.  “Actually, though,
I said you
seem
different.  Not that you
look
different.”

Brooke shrugged
a little, saying, “It’s Sunday.  I get to go to church, I don’t have to work –
basically, it’s my one day a week when I’m not worrying about a million
different things.”

“What do you
worry about?”

“Oh, no you
don’t, Travis!” she laughed.  “We talk about me every time we’re together!  My
leg, my dog, my car, my
something
!  Today I want to hear about you!”

“What do you
want to know?” Travis asked, smiling.

“The realtor
mentioned you were former military.”

“I am,” he
replied, nodding.  “I did three tours in the Middle East.”

“What branch?”

“Marines.”

“And what are
you doing now?  Besides playing mother hen to me?”

“Well, as you
know, I’ve started a security firm,” Travis answered.  He gave Brooke the same
explanation he’d given Riley Parker the previous day.  “All of my employees are
ex-military, as well.  Everyone has a specialty.  Some of us may overlap in
areas of expertise, but between us, we cover just about every scenario you
could think of.”