Becker swallowed a thick knot. “Yes.”
Travis cursed, then let out a long stream of air. “You lied to me, man. That is not cool.”
“I know. And I hope you’ll forgive me for it.”
“So you’ve been messing around with her the whole time she’s been in town?”
“Look, we met the first night,” he said, shoving a hand roughly through his hair. “I didn’t know she was your sister, and we agreed to stay away from each other after we realized. But that didn’t happen, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry as well,” he added, standing his ground.
“Are you just fucking her?” he asked, and it sounded like a vile accusation, one Becker had to defuse.
“Travis. Listen to me. I know I lied to you when I said nothing had happened. And I’m sorry. But get this through your head. I’m fucking crazy about her, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. I swear. I know things about her. I know that Mud Pie Brownies are her favorite, and she made them with you and sold them in the town square when you were kids. And you also taught her to make a dam, and spent endless hours with her by the river when you were kids. I also know that she’s afraid of losing the people she loves. She’s afraid of losing you, but somehow she’s managed to live with that, too. And I know she’s an amazing cartoonist and draws these incredible pictures of silly animals, and I know she’s smart and funny and sarcastic and vulnerable as hell. And that she cares so deeply about you and what you think of her, and she hates the thought of letting you down, because she looks up to you so damn much.”
Travis was silent for several seconds. “Damn,” he said, finally speaking as he chased that word with a low whistle of admiration.
Becker continued. “So we can do this the easy way. Or we can do it the hard way. But either way, I’m taking her out, and I’d much rather do it with your blessing.”
Travis shook his head several times. The look on his face bordered on resignation, but not acceptance.
“I can’t do that yet. I just can’t. You just dropped this on me, and I can’t stand here and say I’m okay with it. I won’t plaster on a happy face because you say you’re all fixed up now,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “But I get it. You’re doing it regardless, and the two of you are adults, so this is your choice. Just remember this, if you hurt her…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. Becker understood he’d be dead to him if he did wrong by Megan.
…
It was a scene that could cause rubbernecking for miles.
Megan thanked her lucky stars that she knew how to shoot a picture. Because it didn’t get much better than this. Today was the requisite beefcake shot—the necessary photo of the guys washing the truck. Funny thing was, the setup wasn’t just calendar man-candy. The firefighters really did wash the trucks every day. With schoolkids coming by to visit the firehouse, as well as citizens popping in when they wanted to, the engines acquired fingerprints and dirt quickly. The men kept the engines spit-shined and polished since they were always, effectively, on display.
Jackson looked mighty fine soaping up the door, dressed only in his navy-blue pants and work boots, his chiseled abs on display and his wavy dark hair wet at the tips. He’d make quite the fantasy man for some woman someday, Megan mused as she shot more pics. Smith, naturally, ably filled the part, too, as he sprayed the hose over the tires. Megan snapped a few extra close-ups just for Jamie, who’d probably squeal when she saw them. Even though Jamie got to partake of the real thing, she was proud of her man’s role in the calendar, and the fact that he’d likely grace the cover again.
There were other guys, too, and as Megan captured more action shots of the men at work, including her brother, she had a hunch that this calendar would be enjoyed. Her work on the shoot was almost done. She’d snagged most of the solo shots she needed, as well as the group pics of the guys, including one of four of the men silhouetted against a dark sky, helmets low on their foreheads, heavy tools in their hands. Pure dark smolder and enough variety in the size and shape of the men to please most red-blooded women. That Becker was one of the guys in that shot didn’t inform her unbiased, professional opinion at all. At least, that’s what she told herself. Though as soon as the thought had flickered into her brain, igniting a private little grin, she knew she was a goner.
Something had changed last night. Shifted. They’d admitted their fears and decided to give things a shot, even just for a week. Would that make it harder for her to leave for Portland? Already, she cared deeply for him, more than she’d ever expected to. Was she opening herself up to the possibility of a whole new level of heartache when she hit the road in seven days?