“Did you? Prove it?” Banyan asked.
“I like to think so. Don’t get me wrong; I had no trouble using my looks over the years to open doors, but it was those times I was dressed down when I felt most alive. Like when I convinced Annie Oakley to teach me to shoot a rifle. Here was this little slip of a woman who could best any man out there with a gun, and I was completely in awe of her. We became fast friends, and I even accompanied her back to the States when the Wild West show ran its course in Europe. That’s how I ended up in America.”
“How long did your friendship last?” Banyan asked.
“In my heart, until the day she died. But I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t aging, so when she and Frank, her husband, moved to Maryland, I used that as my excuse to travel somewhere else. I liked the idea of living near a big city, so I moved from New Jersey to New York. I stayed there throughout the nineteen twenties. I fell in with some girls who defied the norm and enjoyed the flapper lifestyle for almost a decade. Having my own money meant I didn’t have to find a job, but I did anyway. I rented a large house under the name Bryan Holgersen. It was easy to explain that I was his secretary, and he was a recluse who sent me to handle the paperwork. Since I paid up front in cash, the owners didn’t bat an eye. I worked nights as a cocktail waitress in one of the speakeasies. Those young women I befriended became my roommates, and we lived a life most women only dreamed about. Well, those who weren’t telling us we were going to Hell for our sinful ways.” Brynna laughed.
“You mentioned the morning of the coronation the dress was an original from that era, but I didn’t realize you’d actually worn it then.” Banyan smiled fondly.
“It is left over from one of the best times in my life.”
“How did it end up here?”
“I came home for a brief period. As much as I loved traveling, I missed Norway. It didn’t take long to realize home wasn’t any different than when I’d left. Our parents were pissed, and Father did his best to put his foot down.” Brynna shrugged. “So, I left again. Only this time, I didn’t return until your coronation.” Brynna chugged the last of her drink, then pushed back from the table. “I believe that’s enough of Brynna’s adventures for one night. I’ll see you both in the morning.” She rounded the table and kissed them both on the temple before heading to her bedroom. Travis’s door was closed, so Brynna paused to listen. His even breathing let her know he was asleep, so instead of knocking and bothering him, she retreated to her own suite.
The flapper dress Banyan asked about was the one Brynna wore before his coronation, to their parents’ chagrin. It wasn’t the only one she’d kept over the years, but it was her favorite with its silver sparkles. The clothes were over a century old, but she’d managed to preserve them in tightly sealed bags, carrying them everywhere she went, contrary to what she’d told Banyan. They were just getting acquainted after so much time apart, and she didn’t know how he would feel about the life she’d lived on her own.
Fanning through her wardrobe, Brynna touched on various articles she held a fondness for. Other outfits, like the chaps she’d worn during her gun-toting days spent with Annie, hadn’t made the cut. While they had been appropriate for her time spent with the sharpshooter, they weren’t practical for anywhere else she lived afterward. The flapper dresses weren’t practical, either, but she adored them. Brynna was a sucker for a nice dress, no matter the style. She might be a Gargoyle princess who could wield a sword with the best of them, but she was deeply in touch with her feminine side, and it showed in the ways she dressed, wore her hair, and kept her nails painted. Some hair styles were reminiscent of a Viking shieldmaiden with lots of braids and beads. Others were fancy updos most women only wore to parties. Before she met Travis, Brynna had nothing but time on her hands to watch online tutorials and try her hand at whatever caught her fancy.
Now, she still had plenty of time for such things, but she chose to focus on how to make her mate happy. She spent her days watching cooking videos instead of hair instructions. She knew all his favorite foods and tried to replicate fancier versions so he never had to eat the same dish too often. Brynna was a quick study when she put her mind to something.
As fashion changed, Brynna tried to embrace the styles, but she hated most of the prim and proper long skirts. The fifties were the worst. Then the seventies happened. While a lot of women were into bell-bottom jeans, Brynna fell in love with the crazy prints of the short dresses with long, flowing sleeves. She even wore the matching scarves. White, patent-leather boots completed the look. She had bought a few shiny, silver pantsuits for when she went dancing because she didn’t want to show her ass. Literally. It was also during that decade when her love for motorcycles came about.
Brynna cringed thinking about the massive shoulder pads and high-waisted “mom” jeans of the eighties. Her life had been more than fashion, but clothes really did make for a good or bad attitude. There were none of those to be found in her closet. Now, her clothes were a mixture of practical items as well as all kinds of dresses which made her happy. Eyeing one of the retro minis reminiscent of the seventies, Brynna decided that was what she would wear the next day because why not?
Travis couldn’t get Brynna’s words out of his head. “I don’t want to hurt him.” What truth did Banyan think Travis needed to hear? Nothing he came up with was good, and he’d come up with so many scenarios it gave him a headache before he’d drifted off to sleep. When he woke the next morning, his mind picked right back up with trying to figure out what Brynna needed to admit. While he was in the shower, those thoughts kept his brain occupied where usually he would take care of his morning erection.
The shower should have at least helped clear his head, but he was still grumpy and unsure of how to act. Did he pretend he hadn’t overheard her comment? Or did he meet Brynna head on and demand to know the truth? If it was as bad as he feared, his trip to Norway could be cut short, and Travis wasn’t ready to go home. He had promised himself to use the trip to put Rachel’s memory behind him. He would always love her, but living in the past wouldn’t bring her back.
Maybe Brynna didn’t want him there after all. His best course of action was to get the plans for the new house together as quickly as possible, then head home. If he wasn’t around Brynna, she couldn’t hurt him. After getting dressed, Travis grabbed his laptop and decided working on the plans for Banyan and Uri’s house would hopefully take his mind off Brynna’s secret.
Laughter sounded from the kitchen where Marcie and Banyan were tag-teaming breakfast. Travis stopped short when he saw Brynna reaching into the cabinet for a coffee mug She had decided a short dress was the outfit of the day. Her long legs were on display, showing one calf more muscular than the other, and he couldn’t help but take them in from her bare feet to the hem that barely covered her thighs. Jesus H. Travis already knew one of her legs was just a bit shorter than the other, and when she went without shoes, she tiptoed to make up the difference.
Someone cleared their throat, and Travis was mortified when he realized it was Banyan who’d caught him. Instead of scowling, Banyan was grinning. That was good. At least the Goyle didn’t want to punch him in the throat for ogling his sister. Maybe.