“Yeah. I . . .” Travis cocked his head like he was searching for the words. “I’m on leave right now—I’m between jobs at the moment. Looks like I might be moving into a consulting capacity once I go back, or at least sometime in the very near future. But for now, I’m on leave. I’ve been . . . sick, had to take time off.”

Sick—instinctively, he went to step between Travis and Clayton even though a body wouldn’t stop germs.

Travis rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m not contagious. Not like I’d come here if I was. I’m here more for the downtime anyway.”

“You didn’t get fired, did you?” Trey had to admit, considering how rough Travis had looked the past few months—hell, the past few years—it wouldn’t bother him at all if Travis ended up needing to look for another job. And bullshit that Travis had been sick—that wasn’t what had him looking like hell.

“No. I’ve got a job. I’m just taking some time off—we’ll re-evaluate in a few months.” Travis shrugged.

Was it him or did it seem that his twin’s mouth went tight at the movement? Like it hurt? Trey wasn’t sure.

“You’re staying here, then.” Trey didn’t ask.

Travis just grunted. “I was kinda looking forward to pizza and movies, but looks like you have plans.”

“Daddy has a date,” Clayton announced as he finished ripping the paper off a Nerf gun.

For the next breath, the only sound was the boy’s desperate, determined efforts to tear the packaging open. And then, Travis lifted his head, a wide, wicked grin on his face, one that chased away the exhaustion and the irritation. “A date . . . do tell, Daddy.”

“A date. In my case—and yours, it would involve social interaction with a female,” Trey said. “You’re familiar with the general idea, I think.”

“More familiar than you are, I’d say.” Travis bit his lower lip, held it there a moment as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now why haven’t I heard anything about this? Last I heard, the only woman you were interested in, things didn’t exactly work out.”

Feeling the creep of red as it spread up his neck, Trey shrugged. “Not much to say, just yet. I asked her out a couple days ago, she said yes. We haven’t even gone out yet.”

“So this is a first date.”

Before Trey could respond, there was a knock at the door. Travis moved aside as Trey headed to the door. “It’s the babysitter.”

Travis grinned at his nephew. “A babysitter, kid? Is she pretty?”

Clayton went red. “She’s a girl!”

“Well, yeah. The best ones usually are. Is she pretty?”

Clayton darted a look at the door.

Trey hesitated a minute. “She’s saving for college.”

“Hey, I’m not babysitting. I’m on vacation, man.” Travis ruffled Clayton’s hair. “I want pizza, though. I’ll buy. Then I’m probably going to crash early.”

“But . . .” Clayton poked out his lip. “Movie? I thought you said a movie.”

“We’ll do that tomorrow when Dad can join us.” Travis bent down and whispered something to him.

Trey heard the word date and girl involved. It made Clayton giggle.

Shaking his head, Trey opened the door to let Annabeth Hawkins in.

One thing about having his brother crash like this . . . it had taken his mind off the panic. For a few minutes at least.

*   *   *

Ressa whipped off the dress and tossed it on the bed with its three predecessors. The black wiggle dress was a little too sexy. The red polka dot one was cute. That was the problem. It was too cute. The pink square neck one was just fine . . . if he was taking her home to meet his mother.

Snarling under her breath, she stood in front of her closet, a closet full of clothes, too, thanks to her somewhat problematic love for shopping. She wore a black bra shot through with a red lace ribbon and a retro piece that was both girdle, garter, and panties. It was moderately comfortable, sexy as hell and it managed to smooth things down so that if she had gone with the black wiggle, she would have filled it out just fine.

But it was a first date and the message she was going for wasn’t Fuck me now.

Even if that was the message she had on her mind.

Even if that was the message she’d had on her mind pretty much from the first minute she’d seen him again—well, it wasn’t the only thought on her mind.

She had other thoughts, too. Like how much she loved his smile. And how much she missed seeing him and Clayton. And of course, the occasional worry wiggled its way in—mostly about Neeci. She was spending the night with Ressa’s aunt, Neeci’s “Granny Ang” and although Neeci loved Granny Ang, sometimes things didn’t always go well when she didn’t sleep at home.

Which meant she needed to warn Trey about a potential problem. She suspected Trey, more than most, would understand, but just the thought of it made her gut clench, and yet again she thought that maybe she should just cancel the date.

Cut and run, because she could see herself falling for Mr. Trey Barnes, in the worst sort of way.

Fall for him, then end up walking away, or crawling away, when things ended badly or she ended up battered and bruised, brokenhearted.

Coward.

But really, did it hurt to have a real date with him?

Maybe once they had that one real date, she’d realize they didn’t really have that much to talk about. Sure they were combustible, but she’d had heat before.

Doubt started to niggle inside her and she went to sit down, but her gaze landed on the clock. Twenty minutes. She only had—

The phone rang. Panic grabbed her belly. He wasn’t calling to cancel, was he?

If he does, I’ll hurt him.

And then that bubble of panic popped as she recognized the number. With a jaded eye, she studied it, then without a blink, ignored the call.

Talking to Kiara always put her in a bad place. Always. She had to coach herself into going to visit her, into calling her. Sending her quick little notes wasn’t possible, although she did write—there was just nothing quick about it. It took three or four days to get the right words down, the words that said . . . I love you, but I don’t want to talk about the past anymore.

“You ought to be the one in here!” The sound of Kiara’s voice, even now, still echoed in her ears. That wound was mostly scarred and it helped that Kiara had mostly come to accept the truth, but still, the rawness was still there.

The phone went silent as she moved to stand in front of the mirror.

Catching sight of the little clock she kept near her bed, she swore. Down to eighteen minutes. Her hair was done, her makeup was done, but she really should have something on when he knocked on the door.

Swearing, she grabbed a red dress off the hanger. She’d just ordered it and other than trying it on, she hadn’t worn it yet. Pulling it on, she smoothed it down over her hips and went to the mirror. The embellished design of the bodice accentuated her curves there and also left her tattoos bared. She fingered it absently, half thought about wearing something with a higher neckline, even as she gave the rest of her reflection a critical look.

The nipped-in waist definitely met with her approval and the skirt flared out in a way that flattered her full hips. She looked curvy rather than frumpy—that was good. She’d been hoping that would be the effect with the dress. She’d gotten pretty good at picking out the right styles, but shopping online could still be hit or miss. The fabric worked, too.

Frowning, she turned a little, eying the embroidery on the shoulders—each shoulder featured a cheekily grinning pin-up girl.

The cut of the dress was almost conservative.

A few months ago, if somebody had told her she’d be going out to dinner with Trey Barnes, conservative was exactly what she would have suspected would suit him. Of course, she’d have laughed her ass off, and then gone out of her way to find something completely not conservative.