Broken Strings

Twelve

"Yes," Travis said. "Well, we men are rather simplistic creatures. A bit to drink, good food, better company...That's all it takes to keep us happy."

"Is that all?" she asked, her lips curving up as she tugged on Travis's belt loops and pulled him just a few inches closer.

His breath fanned across her face as he murmured, "There are other things that make most guys happy too."

"Things like this?" Ginger's face tilted upwards as Travis leaned down, their lips meeting in the middle.

It was a soft kiss, gentle and warm, that cut through the chill of the night. Travis's hands drifted to Ginger's arms, his fingers trailing along her skin. Ginger shivered in his embrace and her grip tightened on his hips – but she broke the kiss off. Mindful that they were only a stone's throw away from the still-open front door where chatter and laughter still leaked out.

Travis's grin softened and he leaned back but didn't move away. "Things like that definitely make most guys happy."

Ginger said, "Good," as she reached behind to unlatch the door. It popped open and she stepped to the side, Travis moving with her, as the door to her car swung wide. "I should get going. I've got an early shift."

"You working the opening?"

"Yeah...and then tomorrow afternoon I'm going to help teach a celebrity to ride a horse...Which is definitely something I thought I'd never say."

"If you need any help, let me know. I can swing by."

She fought to contain her smile. "Thanks for the offer...But your sister put me under strict guidelines not to involve you. Something about you making a kid cry once?"

Travis glowered, his brows settling low over his dark eyes which appeared even darker with the shadows and the moonlight. "That was one time."

"Apparently, it was one time too many for your sister." Ginger patted him on the chest reassuringly. "I appreciate the offer though and if Jay Dawson ends up being more of a client than I can handle, I'll definitely loop you in."

"Good." Travis stepped back as Ginger made to climb into her car. "Will I be seeing you this week?"

"Probably," she said as she closed the door and stared up at him through the open window. "Maybe we could go see a movie or something...Unless you have a lot of training to do before the Classic on the weekend?"

Travis rubbed a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. "I have a bit of training to do this week. Noah agreed to enter the team roping with me so he and I will need to schedule some time but I could squeeze in a late movie one night if you're free. Maybe after one of your shifts?"

"Sounds great. I'll see what's playing and send you a text."

"Perfect. Drive safe and let me know when you've gotten home."

Ginger rolled her eyes but she secretly liked Travis' protective side. It was a habit of his. Every time he saw her off, he always told her to drive safe and tell him when she'd arrived at her destination. It wasn't as if there was a lot of traffic in Tishomingo that could run her off the road but she still appreciated the concern.

"I promise. Good night, Travis."

"Night."

Ginger stuck the key in the ignition and started up the engine which roared to life. Travis pushed away from the car, one hand lifted in a wave, as Ginger put her foot on the gas and headed for the road. He disappeared into the night, fading away as the shadows ensconced him with each rotation of Ginger's tires.

The drive home was quiet, the stars and moon hanging bright in the sky above. There were no other vehicles out as she pulled into her neighbourhood and came to a stop in front of her house. The porch light was on, a beacon calling her home, and beyond that, she could see the glow of the television through the front window.

When she entered the house, it was to see her father awake and sitting on the couch. The news was playing on an endless loop on the television screen before him but the volume was turned way down so that it was hardly a murmur.

"Hey, dad," Ginger said as she closed and locked the door. "Mom asleep?"

Drake Lacroix looked up, a slight smile on his lips. His moss-green eyes were tired. "Hi, Ginge. Yeah, it was past her bedtime. How was your day?"

She kicked off her shoes and left them on the shoe rack as she replied, "Good. You? Work go okay?"

"Just a long day but we're getting there. Hopefully, we'll have the house framed within the week." Drake yawned and then said, "Your mother told me that you were out with Travis. How's he doing?"

Her father was a carpenter and worked for a local construction company. It was a labour-intensive job but he'd always been skilled with his hands. Most of the pieces in the Lacroix household had been fashioned by Ginger's father – from the bedframes to the kitchen table, Drake had played a role.

Ginger perched on the edge of the armrest as she recalled the soft feel of Travis's lips against hers. "He's good, dad. I was with him and a bunch of others at Noah Hartley's place. It was nice. We just relaxed and caught up. It's been a while since I've seen Bailey."

Even if it had been more than that. She had chatted with Jay Dawson again. Surreal – even more so than the first time. Especially considering that Brock Mason had also been in attendance and she had been a fan of his since the Tallahassee days. But Jay...there was something about the actor that made him seem so grounded and down to earth despite his superstar status.

There was no denying it. Ginger had liked talking with Jay and she was more than a little excited about the riding lessons she'd be giving him come the following day. Not because of his dreamboat status but rather because she wanted time to hear about the world from someone who had seen it. Jay Dawson had travelled everywhere on press tours and shooting films...Surely he could tell her what was outside the boundaries of Oklahoma. Maybe he'd even give her some inspiration on where she should run to first.

Of course, Ginger couldn't tell her parents about that. Or anyone else for that matter. Jay Dawson being in Tishomingo was information on a strictly need-to-know basis. Since she'd somehow managed to save his ass from a horde of fans, she was in the know but others, like her parents or Cassie, didn't have such privileges and so she needed to keep it quiet.

The secret didn't feel like as much of a burden as maybe it should have.

"Oh yeah? How's Bailey? She still doing the singing thing?"

Ginger bit back a smile. Her father said it as if it were an interesting hobby and not at all as if Bailey was an award-winning recording artist. "Yes, she's still doing the singing thing."

"Good for her."

"I'm going to head to bed," Ginger said as she got back to her feet and pushed the strap of her purse farther up her shoulder. "I've got an early shift."

"Goodnight." Drake turned back towards the television, flipping through the channels until he landed on some medley of sports reruns.

"'Night."

She left him in front of the television and meandered down the hallway towards her room. The door closed with a swift tap of her foot, latching quietly, and she dropped her purse into the chair at her desk. Ginger placed her backpack on the bed, carefully removing her camera and lenses from her trip to the nature reserve earlier that day.

Tomorrow, she would go through the photos and see if there were any worthy shots she could add to her photography blog, Wanderlust. She had started the blog around the same time that she'd gotten her uncle's old Olympia camera. Ginger posted on it frequently, updating with her photos and any creative projects she was working on, which were few and far between.

Ginger knew that it was unlikely anyone else actually looked at the photos. That was fine, she told herself. The photos were just for her anyway. But she liked having a place to put them up. Somewhere that she could go and see her art on full display.

One day, Ginger told herself, I'll see my work in a gallery or in a magazine. At least, that was the hope. But for now, Wanderlust would do.