Travis shrugged, glancing around. “Oh, it’s impressive. But I have the feeling a small-town chief of police’s salary wouldn’t cover the rent.” His lip hitched, but there was something in his eyes that contrasted his wry smile.
We wandered through a few of the wide-open rooms. The furniture had obviously been moved to accommodate the guests, with high-top tables covered in white linen placed around the perimeter where drinks could be set as people gathered and conversed.
The bidding items were set up in a room near the back of the house, the windows thrown open to the patio and gardens beyond. A band played in the corner, something crooning and jazzy, or so I thought. Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about music. Books were more my thing.
“Dance?” I turned my head to see Travis holding his hand out.
I laughed. “Dance?”
“That wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for,” he said, and though he attempted to add a sardonic tone to his voice, he sounded more offended than anything.
“Sorry. Truthfully? I’m not the best dancer.” I inclined my head toward the band. “At least, not that kind of dance.”
“It’s easy. All you have to do is trust and follow.”
Trust and follow. “I’m not so good at that,” I murmured.
He reached his hand out again and this time, I took it. There were several couples already on what had been designated the dance floor and we weaved through them, stopping when we were near the middle. I pulled in a breath as Travis stepped toward me, wrapping his arms gently around my body as I moved in closer. Closer. His body was warm and solid, and so much bigger than my own. He smelled like heaven.
My heart was pounding, I realized, and I attempted to slow it, to gather my nerves, to trust and follow.
For a few moments we moved stiffly together, our bodies swaying slowly to the music. All around us, the couples smiled and chatted, looking relaxed and casual, while every atom in my body felt frazzled.
“I like this song,” I said, swallowing. “What is it?”
He brought his head back slightly. “How is it possible you’ve never heard of Nat King Cole?”
I breathed out a laugh. “I don’t know.” Of course I did know. I’d grown up with a mother who didn’t offer a wide exposure to the arts, unless your definition of the arts was a People magazine she’d swiped from the methadone clinic now and again. And why did referring to her in the past tense still hurt so much, even after all this time?
I focused back on the song. It was beautiful and moving, and somehow unbearably sad. I relaxed against Travis, finally getting the hang of trusting and following, and allowing myself to do so.
For a few moments we simply swayed again, a different song starting. “Were things simpler then, do you think?” he asked softly. “These old songs always make love sound so . . . easy.”
I thought about that, listening to the man comparing his love’s face to a flower. “I don’t know if love has ever been simple,” I said. But I knew what he meant. The song alone seemed to convey the idea that love was all you needed.
I knew that wasn’t true.
And the man currently pressed against me had recently learned that lesson too, if he hadn’t known it already.
“My brother left town for a while, eight years ago,” he said.
I looked up at him, surprised at the change in subject. “Your brother?”
“Hmm hmm. Archer owns and runs Pelion. The land it’s on has been in my family since the town’s inception. It passes from one first-born son to the next.”
Wow. I had had no idea families owned entire towns. The Hale’s roots must be very deep. “Why did your brother leave?” I asked.
Travis shrugged, a small lift of his shoulders. “To find himself, I think. Sort of like you, maybe.”
“Did he?” I asked.
Travis was quiet for a moment. His expression was sort of distant and sort of sad and I had the odd feeling that this was a subject he didn’t discuss much. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully as though he’d found himself in a conversation he hadn’t meant to begin. But why would that be? It was his history. His family. His brother.
“He did,” he finally said. “Anyway, there was a party going on right in this very house the night he came back, which is why I thought of it. It’s still a thing of legend here. Bree, his wife now, was on the dance floor with someone or other when Archer arrived. The crowd parted, the earth moved, angels sang, and they’ve been together every day since. They have three kids now—the nephews and niece I mentioned—but they still look at each other the way I imagine they did that night,” he finished, almost as if to himself.
I breathed out a sigh. I felt charmed by the vision and the knowledge that since that moment, the two people he’d told me about had created a beautiful family.
Family. Roots. A rich history. My heart gave a sudden squeeze. What must that feel like?
The song came to a close and we stepped away from each other, gazes lingering. I felt slightly flushed, my emotions disorganized. I gave my head a small shake, fanning myself. “I should get some water.”
We walked to the edge of the dance floor, Gage suddenly appearing before us like a god from the mist.
“Travis. Haven,” Gage said, approaching us with a warm smile. “What a pleasant surprise. Thank you for coming.”
“Gage.” They shook hands.
“Hi,” I said, smiling, feeling better already, more on even footing now that Gage was standing in front of us. “Your family’s home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Travis has been here a hundred times, but I’d be happy to accompany both of you upstairs where the bar’s set up.”
“I, ah, actually see someone I’d like to say hi to,” Travis said, sweeping his hand somewhere to the right. “But Haven did want a drink. Find me later, Haven?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling a strange twinge in my stomach at his departure. Here I was now, alone with Gage.
Which was exactly what I’d wanted, of course.
“I didn’t realize you and Travis Hale were dating,” he said.
“Oh, no, we’re not,” I explained as he led me toward the grand staircase. “We’re just . . . friends.” As if he’d heard something strange in my tone, he glanced my way, his eyes lingering on my face.
“Gage, darling,” an older woman said, sweeping up to us, her dark hair in a sleek chignon, her champagne-colored dress the picture of class and elegance, “have you seen your father? I’ve lost him again. I swear, I need to keep that man on a leash.” Laughter filled her tone.
“He’s in the billiards room sampling the cigars Mr. Henderson brought.”
Gage’s mother managed to make rolling her eyes look refined. “I should have known. It’s where he always hides.”
Billiards room. I felt dizzy and suddenly had the strange urge to laugh and cry simultaneously. I was with Gage. In his beautiful, perfect, family home.
Where there was a billiards room. I didn’t even know exactly what that was except that, well, it was probably used for billiards and apparently hiding from your wife.
“Mom, this is Haven Torres,” Gage said. “She works at the club.”