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Authors: Lisa Crane

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BOOK: Not His Type
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“Y-yes,” Brooke
answered groggily.  She sat up.  She’d fallen sound asleep, her head resting on
her forearm on the kitchen table.  She sat up, embarrassed.  “Sorry.  The pain
pills make me loopy.”

 

“No worries,”
Travis said, grinning.  He straightened.  “You ready to eat?  I make a mean pot
of chili.”

 

“Yes, thank
you.”  She looked around the kitchen.  “Where’d your friends go?  How long was
I asleep?”

 

“Nick and Will
went to cover the window beside your door.  Boo went with ‘em.  And you’ve been
asleep for about half an hour.”  He set a bowl of chili in front of Brooke. 
“The guys will be back in a minute, but you go ahead and eat.”

 

“Travis,” Brooke
began hesitantly.  He turned back to face her.  “Listen, I owe you an apology.”

 

“An apology?” he
echoed, frowning slightly.  “What for?”

 

“Since the
accident, you’ve done nothing but go out of your way to help me,” Brooke
replied.  “You’ve been kind and helpful, and I’ve…well, I haven’t been very
nice or very appreciative.”  She looked up at him.  “I promise you I’m not
usually like this.”  She shrugged a little.  “My only excuse is that I’ve had a
lot on my mind, and then I was kind of in pain.”

 

“I thought you
just didn’t like me.”

 

“Oh, no!” she
said quickly, her expression pained.  “No, it’s not that, really!  I just don’t
–“

 

“Relax, Brooke,
I was teasing,” Travis interrupted her.  He grinned and set a sleeve of saltine
crackers on the table, along with a bag of tortilla chips.  “Seriously, just
kidding, okay?”

 

“Well, I just
don’t want you to think I’m some whiney woman who doesn’t appreciate someone’s
help.”  She toyed with the spoon in front of her.  “It’s just…well, I’m kind of
out of practice in the whole ‘getting help’ department.  So I’m sorry if I was
obnoxious and offensive.”

 

“Forgiven,”
Travis said.  He extended a hand.  “Friends?”

 

Brooke accepted
his hand.  She marveled at how his swallowed her own fingers.  Travis shook her
hand and squeezed it briefly before turning back to the refrigerator.  When he
moved back to the table, he held a container of grated cheese in one hand, sour
cream in the other.  They joined the things in the center of the table.

 

“So did you grow
up around here?” Travis asked.

 

“Right next
door, actually,” Brooke answered.  “My grandpa lived there.  He raised me from
the time I was about eight.”

 

“That’s right,
you said he owned the land, didn’t you?”

 

Brooke nodded.  Travis
wanted to ask about the sale of the land.  He’d researched the price of land in
the area before buying the property from his new neighbor.  The sale of nearly
a hundred acres should have, as Will put it, brought a pretty penny.  So Travis
asked himself again, why did she work two jobs and seem to be struggling so
financially?

 

“So tell me about
your mother,” Travis said, instead of asking about the land.  “Is her name
really Satin?”

 

“No, but watch
out if you call her Susan!” she answered, smirking.  “No,
her
mother
didn’t saddle her with a stripper name!”

 

“Bunny
Valentine,” Travis said grinning.  “I like it!”

 

The back door
swung open and Boo bounded inside the room, headed straight for Brooke, as
usual; before anyone could stop him, the big dog crashed into her.  Brooke
winced and jerked away, but the damage was done; a dark stain began to spread
along the leg of her pajama pants.

 

“Boo!” Travis
growled sharply.  “Sit!”  He looked at Brooke’s leg.  “You need to let me look
at that leg.”

 

Brooke looked
shocked and began to protest, saying, “No, I’m sure it’s okay!  I’ll just go –“

 

“Brooke, you’re
bleeding!” Travis said.  “Look, be reasonable.  That shirt you’ve got on is
long enough to keep you decent.  Just let me take a look, okay?”

 

“Well….”

 

“You really
should let him look,” Nick said.  He gestured at the blood on Brooke’s pants. 
“Looks like your dog tore some of your staples.”

 

“All right,”
Brooke said reluctantly.  She rose and limped from the kitchen.  “But not in
here with everybody.”

 

Travis led
Brooke to the bedroom where he’d placed her bag.  He turned his back while she
removed her pajama pants.

 

“Okay,” Brooke
said quietly.  “You can look.”

 

Travis turned
around.  Bright color stained her cheeks and she wouldn’t look Travis in the
eye as she tugged at the hem of her large tee shirt.  Travis squatted beside
Brooke to examine her leg.  She jerked when she felt his hand on her thigh as
he pulled gently at the bandage that covered her wound.

 

“Easy,” Travis
said, his deep voice soothing, as if he were talking to a frightened animal. 
“Let’s go in the bathroom.  The light’s better, and I can clean this blood
off.”

 

In the bathroom,
Brooke gasped when Travis put his hands on her waist and easily lifted her onto
the counter.  He ignored her and gently pulled the bandage further away so he
could inspect the wound.  He pulled a washcloth from the cabinet and held it
under warm water; then, with careful hands, he washed the blood away.  He gave
Brooke a pleased smile.

 

“Not bad,” he
said.  “Looks like it’s just two staples, right down here near your knee.”  He
put a hand on her knee.  “Sit tight.  I’m going to go find my first aid kit.  I
think we can fix this up just fine.”

 

Travis left
Brooke sitting on the counter, her expression slightly bemused.  He returned
shortly with a case in his hand; Brooke watched as he opened the case and
looked through it.

 

“Here we go!” he
said triumphantly.

 

In short order,
with warm, yet efficient fingers, Travis had placed two butterfly bandages
across the damaged staples.  He replaced the long gauze bandage over the
wound.  He helped Brooke off the counter and looked down at her.

 

“I don’t suppose
you have anything else to wear right now?” he asked.  She shook her head. 
“Hang on, I’ll run over to your place and get you something, okay?  Be right
back.”

 

Brooke waited
patiently, wondering at her new neighbor.  Nick Rodgers certainly seemed to
have hit the nail on the head when labeled Travis Cooper a “care taker”.  It
was an odd feeling for Brooke to have someone want to take care of her.

Chapter
7

 

In Brooke’s
house next door, Travis found her bedroom.  The room was like the rest of the
house, neat and tidy, but slightly shabby.  He now understood, however,
Brooke’s life, her problems, weren’t of her own making.  Rather, she’d
inherited various debts from her grandfather and her mother.

 

Travis opened a
drawer in the old dresser; it held faded jeans and sweats.  Another drawer held
tee shirts.  The third drawer Travis opened gave him pause; the drawer was
filled with lace, silk and satin and Travis couldn’t stop the grin on his face
as he held up a pair of lacy black bikini panties.  He whistled softly, then
stuffed the item back in the drawer and slammed it shut.

 

“Well, well,” he
murmured to himself.  “I would’ve never guessed that, my little Bunny-girl.”

 

The next drawer
Travis opened yielded what he sought.  He pulled out a pair of soft, fuzzy pink
lounge pants and headed back to his own house, locking the door behind him.  He
trotted across the adjoined yards, through his front door and back to the
bathroom where Brooke waited.  He held the lounge pants out to her.

 

“Meet you back
in the kitchen,” he said.  “I bet your chili’s gotten cold.”          

 

Brooke pulled on
the soft lounge pants and followed Travis to the kitchen.  He was already in
the process of placing a fresh bowl of chili on the table.  Will and Nick sat
at the table waiting.  Boo lay sprawled on the floor; he started to rise as
Brooke limped in, but Travis stopped him with a hand on his collar.

 

“Boo, stay!”
Brooke ordered.  The dog relaxed and lay his head on his paws.

 

“You’re going to
have to watch him,” Travis said.

 

“He’s not
usually quite this bad,” Brooke said.  “I think he’s just missed me.”

 

Travis sat down
in the chair next to Brooke.  They all began eating, the three men talking as
they did.

 

“So when is the
meeting with GeneSys?” Will asked.  “Think they’ll sign?”

 

“I think so,”
Travis answered, nodding.  “Frank Traynor, the new CEO is concerned about all
the proprietary research they’re doing.  He thinks – and rightly so, from what
I’ve seen – their security isn’t what it ought to be.  The building, the files,
their server, all of it is pretty much wide open right now.  I can’t believe
they’ve gone this long the way they have.”

 

The conversation
flowed around Brooke as the three discussed topics about which she knew very
little.  From what she understood, Travis Cooper had started a security firm
that provided security on every level, from building security guards to
computer protection to bodyguards.  Brooke perked up a bit when she heard
something she did understand.

 

“And what about
a secretary?” Nick asked suddenly.  “Have you found a secretary yet?”

 

“No,” Travis
answered.  He rolled his eyes.  “You wouldn’t think it would be so hard, would
you?”

 

“You’re looking
for a secretary?” Brooke asked hesitantly.

 

“Yes.  Do you
know someone?”

 

“I might,” she
answered.  “I’ll get her résumé for you.  She’s one of the girls I work with at
the diner.  Well…worked with, I guess I should say.”  She tilted her head and
gave Travis a small smile.  “I can get her résumé when I take my uniforms back
and pick up my last check.”

 

After dinner,
Brooke tried to help clean up, but Travis would have none of it.  She ended up
sitting at the table with Nick while Will and Travis quickly cleaned up the
dishes.  When they were done, the other two men left.  Travis gestured to the
sofa and Brooke sat down on the end, as far from the opposite end as she
could.  Travis, however, plopped down right in the middle and grinned at her.

 

“So what’s your
poison?” he asked, reaching for the remote.  “You strike me as a…hmm…romantic
comedy girl, right?”

 

“Meh,” Brooke
answered.  “I like some, I guess.  You choose.  I’m usually working this time
of the evening, so I don’t watch much television.”

 

Travis turned to
a local station for the nine o’clock news.  Brooke shifted slightly, trying to
find a comfortable position for her leg.  She was trying to be still, but when
she shifted again a moment later, Travis leaned over and grabbed her ankle.  He
eased her leg up until it was stretched across his lap and pushed Brooke gently
until she was leaning against the arm of the sofa; it seemed to do the trick as
the pressure Brooke had been feeling in her leg eased up.  Now though, she
found she had a whole new problem to deal with:  nervousness at the touch of a
strange man’s strong, warm hands on her leg.  She had to admit, the warmth of
Travis’ big hands felt wonderful against her injured leg, almost like a heating
pad they were so warm!

 

 “Better?”
Travis asked.

 

“Y-yes,” Brooke
answered.

 

They watched the
news in silence.  When the news was over, Brooke looked over at Travis and
smiled.

 

“I hate to be a
bad guest,” she said.  “But I think I’m going to have to go to bed.  I’m beat.”

 

“Oh!”  Travis
said.  He eased Brooke’s leg to the floor and stood.  “Of course, come on.  I
think you should have everything you need in the guest room.”

 

“Oh, I don’t
need anything,” Brooke said quickly.  “Really.  Just a pillow and a blanket.  I
can even sleep here on the sofa.”

 

“Brooke, come
on, don’t be silly.  I can see the wheels turning in your head, thinking you’re
putting me to all kinds of trouble.  Right?  Isn’t that what you’re thinking,
Brooke?”  She remained silent as she followed Travis to the guest room.  “I
knew it.  Never mind, just come on.”

 

In the guest
room, Travis gestured around the room, saying, “Bed, bathroom…anything else you
think you might need?”  She shook her head.  “All right, I’ll leave you to it. 
I’m going to get you a glass of milk so you can take two more pain pills,
okay?  I’ll be right back.”

 

Travis left
Brooke alone in the guest room.  She folded the sheets back on the bed, noting
as she did the precise corners; they were indicative of someone who’d worked in
a hospital or perhaps a military man.

 

“Here you go,”
Travis said as he returned to the room.

 

“Were you in the
military?” Brooke asked him.

 

“What gave me
away?” he asked, smiling.

 

“The bed,” she
answered, returning his smile.  “Those are military corners.”

 

“Ah.  Yes, they
are.”

 

“It was either
that or you were a hospital orderly,” Brooke said.  “You don’t look like any of
the orderlies I saw when I was in the hospital, so….”

 

Brooke’s voice
trailed off.  She blushed as she realized what her words must have sounded
like.  Travis simply grinned at her and held out the little glass of milk.

 

“Here ya go,” he
said.  He began backing toward the door.  “If you need anything, I’m down the
hall, okay?  Just yell.  I’m a pretty light sleeper.”  Travis nearly tripped
over Boo.  “Oh, it’s you, you big baby.”  He glanced up at Brooke.  “Do you
want me to put him in another room?”

BOOK: Not His Type
5.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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