The Outlaw

02

*

Work picked up expectedly as Saturday night rolled by. My feet were swollen from the six-inch heels I squeezed into—that I borrowed from Scarlett—and my  russet brown hair was sticking to my temples in the stuffy heat.

"Jack and Coke. Double-tall. And your number if you're giving those out too, darling." Travis drawled, flashing a smile as he settled on a bar stool in front of me.

"Oh, man," I groaned, "I hope you don't actually use those lines on girls, Trav."

"What?" His mouth curved innocently. "I'm a hot commodity, I'll have you know."

"I'll take your word for it." I placed his drink in front of him. "So who spilled the beans and told you I worked here?"

All signs of playfulness fled Travis' features. "No one. A stroke of coincidence, I guess."

I nodded unconvincingly. "It doesn't change anything, you know that right?"

He leaned in across the bar, and sternly told me, "I'm not looking for anything either, Maddie." I visibly relaxed at that. Lately, I've had a slight inkling that, slowly, the lines were starting to become blurred since Travis called more frequently in the space of the last two weeks.

Travis slid off the bar stool, drink in his hand. "You're not the only one that has stuff going on in their life."

With that, he turned around and swaggered into the mass of writhing bodies. I stared at his retreating back, watching as the horde of women followed him with their eyes and then their feet. I didn't blame them. Fitted in a crisp white T-shirt that accentuated his muscles, and low waist dark jeans, the strobe lights dancing over him, he was undoubtedly the hottest man in the crowd.

When Travis asked what brought on the arrangement; I'd given the piss-poor excuse that I needed a form of distraction away from my problematic life. Only he didn't know the actual problem was me.

I never stopped to think that Travis had agreed, not because I was a lay guaranteed with any hard work or attached promises, but because he needed the distraction, too.

Suddenly, I wished I could revoke the no personal questions rule. Not for me; for him because in that moment, I wanted to know all about there was to know about Travis Ortiz.

*

"You ever think things could get too messy?" Hogging the whole sectional of the couch to myself, I peered down at Cam, who was sitting on floor, his feet stretched out in front of him. Travis proved his point, dancing with multiple girls at the club, and even went to the extent of leaving with a blonde bombshell. It made me wonder why he needed me at all—a click of his finger and he could have just about anyone agreeing to go home with him. Then I questioned why I let it affect me; it shouldn't matter to me what Travis did.

With my gaze trained on the Chinese food I'd picked up on my way home scattered around the coffee table, I absorbed Cameron's question.

"No," I answered definitively after a little while, "why would it? It's literally just sex. There's no talking before or after. Like a one-night-stand, but repeatedly with the same person."

Cameron studied me thoughtfully. I eyed him back in the same way, knowing he was working on an angle. "Do you remember the first day you showed up at the house?" He asked, finally, carrying on when I responded with a nod. "Wide-eyed and innocent, you didn't look like you were scared to be the new girl with four other kids. Your chin lifted, your shoulders squared and you marched in as if you could conquer anything." He reached up to find my hand. "I saw right through you, Madeline. I didn't need to know where you came from, who your family was, what you liked and disliked, I just knew."