Read Online A Bravo Homecoming by Christine Rimmer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Rimmer
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in five minutes flat. She didn’t need all that time for deciding what to wear and fiddling with her hair and putting on makeup, the way most women did.
But because she wasn’t exactly the Sam he’d always known anymore, he had no way to gauge how long it would take her to pull herself together so they could get on the road.
He pulled open the door.
And there she was, sitting on the sofa by the picture window, downtown Houston spread out behind her, all dressed and ready to go. And she looked terrific, in sexy skinny jeans and a soft, clingy blue-green sweater that showed off all those dangerous curves he’d somehow never realized she had until last night.
Her suitcases were waiting by the door.
She rose to her feet. “Morning.” And there were two places set at the table in the corner. He could smell bacon. “I ordered breakfast. Hope that’s okay.”
“Uh. Great.” He felt guilty, for doubting her, for assuming that because she was gorgeous now, she’d be lazing in bed. She might look so good she messed with his head, but inside, she was still Sam. He needed to remember that.
They sat down to eat. He looked at her across the table from him, so fresh and pretty in the morning light, and he thought about Rachel, for some unknown reason. Rachel, with her long black hair and deep brown eyes, sitting across from him in another hotel room, years and years ago. Rachel, drinking coffee, nibbling toast, the future— their future—bright and full of promise, spread out ahead of them.
They’d been so happy, he and Rachel. They’d had no clue that death was going to snatch her away from him. That she would be gone from him forever within a few short weeks of that beautiful getaway engagement trip to Mexico.
He couldn’t take that kind of loss again. He needed to remember that.
Sam was looking at him sideways. “Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing.” He polished off his scrambled eggs.
A bellman appeared with a cart as they finished the meal. Sam had called for him to carry her bags down.
The car was waiting, out at the front entrance. Sam had asked for it, too. The bellman loaded their bags in. Travis tipped him and the valet.
They got in, buckled up and were on their way.
Travis didn’t say much during the ride to San Antonio.
Sam took her cue from him. She stared out the window at the highway ahead of them and she thought about last night, about the magic of the evening they’d spent together.
About that one sweet, too-short kiss they had shared.
She’d gone back to her room and gone right to sleep. And in the morning, when she woke up, she’d lain there for a minute or two, wondering if that kiss had been a dream after all.
But she knew that it wasn’t. Travis really had kissed her. And she truly believed he’d wanted to kiss her some more.
She wished that he had.
They stopped for a soda and a restroom break midway. She offered to drive.
He said no, he was doing fine.
They set off again. Once or twice, she tried to get some conversation going. She remarked on the weather. She asked him a couple of questions about his brothers.
Each time, he replied by using as few words as possible. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk.
So, fine. She had an iPod and her trusty Miss Manners book, which reminded her of Jonathan and made her smile. She read and she listened to music.
When at last they neared San Antonio, Travis turned the Cadillac north toward the Hill Country on a road called Farm to Market. Sam started to feel a certain restlessness about then.
They couldn’t be far from the family ranch now. Soon she would meet his mother and his father, his brother Luke, who ran the ranch. And Luke’s wife, Mercy, and their two children. And any other of his sisters and brothers who had shown up for Sunday dinner.
It was a thing with the Bravos, Travis had told her: Sunday-afternoon dinner at the ranch. They didn’t all show up every time, but they all had an open
But because she wasn’t exactly the Sam he’d always known anymore, he had no way to gauge how long it would take her to pull herself together so they could get on the road.
He pulled open the door.
And there she was, sitting on the sofa by the picture window, downtown Houston spread out behind her, all dressed and ready to go. And she looked terrific, in sexy skinny jeans and a soft, clingy blue-green sweater that showed off all those dangerous curves he’d somehow never realized she had until last night.
Her suitcases were waiting by the door.
She rose to her feet. “Morning.” And there were two places set at the table in the corner. He could smell bacon. “I ordered breakfast. Hope that’s okay.”
“Uh. Great.” He felt guilty, for doubting her, for assuming that because she was gorgeous now, she’d be lazing in bed. She might look so good she messed with his head, but inside, she was still Sam. He needed to remember that.
They sat down to eat. He looked at her across the table from him, so fresh and pretty in the morning light, and he thought about Rachel, for some unknown reason. Rachel, with her long black hair and deep brown eyes, sitting across from him in another hotel room, years and years ago. Rachel, drinking coffee, nibbling toast, the future— their future—bright and full of promise, spread out ahead of them.
They’d been so happy, he and Rachel. They’d had no clue that death was going to snatch her away from him. That she would be gone from him forever within a few short weeks of that beautiful getaway engagement trip to Mexico.
He couldn’t take that kind of loss again. He needed to remember that.
Sam was looking at him sideways. “Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing.” He polished off his scrambled eggs.
A bellman appeared with a cart as they finished the meal. Sam had called for him to carry her bags down.
The car was waiting, out at the front entrance. Sam had asked for it, too. The bellman loaded their bags in. Travis tipped him and the valet.
They got in, buckled up and were on their way.
Travis didn’t say much during the ride to San Antonio.
Sam took her cue from him. She stared out the window at the highway ahead of them and she thought about last night, about the magic of the evening they’d spent together.
About that one sweet, too-short kiss they had shared.
She’d gone back to her room and gone right to sleep. And in the morning, when she woke up, she’d lain there for a minute or two, wondering if that kiss had been a dream after all.
But she knew that it wasn’t. Travis really had kissed her. And she truly believed he’d wanted to kiss her some more.
She wished that he had.
They stopped for a soda and a restroom break midway. She offered to drive.
He said no, he was doing fine.
They set off again. Once or twice, she tried to get some conversation going. She remarked on the weather. She asked him a couple of questions about his brothers.
Each time, he replied by using as few words as possible. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk.
So, fine. She had an iPod and her trusty Miss Manners book, which reminded her of Jonathan and made her smile. She read and she listened to music.
When at last they neared San Antonio, Travis turned the Cadillac north toward the Hill Country on a road called Farm to Market. Sam started to feel a certain restlessness about then.
They couldn’t be far from the family ranch now. Soon she would meet his mother and his father, his brother Luke, who ran the ranch. And Luke’s wife, Mercy, and their two children. And any other of his sisters and brothers who had shown up for Sunday dinner.
It was a thing with the Bravos, Travis had told her: Sunday-afternoon dinner at the ranch. They didn’t all show up every time, but they all had an open
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