Oh, but working for the FBI had been so much better for her mental health?
“I’ll figure it out. Just taking a break right now.”
“Normally I’d say that was a good thing since I know how hard you work. But you’re an Andrews. We don’t know how to take a break, and you’re as much of a workaholic as the rest of us.”
“Just leave it be, Travis.”
“You ever talk to anyone about it?”
“About the Latin Lothario?” she asked.
“Yes, and about Brax’s death.”
She sucked in a breath. “We don’t talk about that.”
“Maybe we should.”
He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d gotten out a baseball bat and smashed her car window.
“It happened twenty years ago. I’m fine.”
He snorted. “Darling, you can’t lie worth a damn.”
“I’ve talked to someone about it, Travis. I’m a trained psychologist. I worked through all that stuff before I graduated.” Or she thought she had. Sometimes, it still reared its head. She glanced back at the house. She could still hear her father screaming at her that it was her fault. Her fault. How was it possible for old memories to still hurt so much?
“I have a job for you.”
“What?” The abrupt change in subject brought her out of her memories.
“A job. I have one for you.”
“I’m not working for you, Travis.” She adored him. She’d do anything for him—except work for him. Because she knew she’d suffocate slowly under his protective love.
“I could use someone with your skills on my team.” Travis owned a security firm that mainly took overseas jobs, escorting rich businessman into risky places or guarding shipments through dangerous territories.
“Uh-huh? And say I did want to work for you what exactly would I be doing?”
“We could discuss that.”
“Right. So, fetching coffee, answering phones, and general office stuff.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I never said that.”
“Are you saying you’re going to let me out into the field? Because if you are, then I’ll actually consider it. But I know you, Trav. I’ll say yes, then you’ll find excuses to keep me nice and safe in some office.”
He looked away, and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.
“Thanks for the offer, but I have to decline. I love you, but no.”
He looked slightly irritated, but he nodded. “I figured as much. The job isn’t with me. It’s for Black-Gray Investigations.”
She frowned. She’d heard of them before. “As in Hunter Black? Aren’t they based in Dallas?”
“Yeah. They’re looking for a profiler to add to their team.”
Interest stirred, and she squashed it. She didn’t know anything about the job or Hunter Black, other than . . .
“Didn’t he steal a job out from under you once? You swore about him for months.”