Travis opened his mouth, then closed it, nodded.
I took a deep breath. “I think I need champagne.”
“I could use some too.”
**********
We arrived back at our B&B an hour later, both of us slightly stiff and awkward. We’d mingled for a little while, each having a glass of champagne. Travis had bid on a couple of items for the charity, and then we’d agreed to call it a night.
Gage had been gracious and kind when we’d sought him out to say goodbye, his eyes twinkling when he smiled at me with some form of affection. “I look forward to seeing you at the club, Haven.”
I’d smiled brightly at him, hope soaring that I hadn’t humiliated myself to the level I’d thought. Maybe he even thought I was . . . quirky in an attractive way. One could only hope. And another one of my mottos—one I wouldn’t share with Gage because I’d already done enough damage for one night—was that hope springs eternal.
I’d turned and caught Travis looking at us, that same glum expression on his face that had been there when I’d found him on the patio, and I’d wondered if it could be interpreted as jealousy.
And a different hope soared, one I was too tired and confused to look at in that moment.
We stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs. Neither of us smiled.
I wanted to ask him if he regretted kissing me. I wondered if he’d compared it to kissing his girlfriend, the one who’d broken his heart, the one the gossips thought he’d cheated on when it was actually the other way around. I wondered if kissing me had made him long for her. Sometimes kissing someone else too soon after a breakup did more to amplify your sadness than to distract or heal. I wasn’t the foremost expert on relationships, but I knew that to be true.
“Thank you for—”
“I really am—”
Travis cleared his throat, inclining his head toward me, saying wordlessly that I should continue. “Thank you for taking me to Gage’s party, even if you did sabotage my efforts at coming off as a normal person.”
He gave me a half grimace, half smile, lowering his eyes. “I really am sorry about that.”
I waved my hand. “It’s okay. Maybe it ended up setting me apart.” As a freak.
Were we going to pretend we hadn’t kissed?
We stared at each other for a moment longer.
“Okay, then, goodnight, Travis.”
He paused, but then gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Goodnight, Haven.”
We shouldn’t.
I walked slowly up the stairs. I could feel his eyes on me as I ascended, and once I almost turned back just to see the look on his face, to see if it might tell me anything at all, but in the end, I didn’t. I whispered a quiet word of encouragement to the plant I’d first found limp and root-bound at the back of the nursery, that now resided at the top of the stairs, my hand trailing over its lush, green leaves. It’d grown twice the size it was when I first brought it here, and a small burst of pride lit inside. I’d done that. I’d saved it.
Even if I hadn’t saved her.
I headed to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, my palms flat against the wood. Outside, I heard Travis’s footsteps, heard them pause at the top of the stairs, and then head to his own room in the opposite direction.
I pushed off the door when I heard the quiet click of his closing, wondering how on earth I was supposed to come back from . . . whatever tonight was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Travis
“Did I hear that right?” Deb Bryant, the Pelion Police Department dispatcher asked. “You put out an APB on a number of house plants that went missing from the side of the road?”
“Yup,” I said. “They were stolen.”
“From the side of the road. Where someone left them.”
“Yes.”
“And flyers were hung in town? About the . . . stolen plants. Left on the side of the road.”
I leaned on the counter. “Perhaps this person didn’t know that they belonged to someone else. I’m not looking to convict, only to recover the property.”
“Travis Hale. Sometimes you concern me.” She smiled affectionately. “And surprise me.” I’d take that as a compliment. I smiled back.
“This is for a woman, I presume?”
I grinned. “How’d you know?”
“I didn’t know. That’s where the surprise comes in. This is very unlike you.” She paused. “I like it.”
“She’s just a friend.” I laughed, pushing off the counter and walking back to my office.
Spencer walked in a few minutes later. “You won’t believe the information I’ve found on Easton Torres from California.”
I set the phone messages I’d been going through back down on my desk, removed my reading glasses, and looked up at him. “Warrants?”
“No. But—”
“A call just came in about the missing plants!” Deb said, bursting into my office.