Fix Her Up: A Novel
Fix Her Up: Chapter 17

Well, this was fucking awkward.

Stephen frowned at Travis from across the Castle family living room, bottle of beer in a white-knuckled grip. They’d worked together a handful of times on the flip since news outlets had started splashing pictures of him and Georgie across their pages, but they’d avoided conversation that didn’t involve building materials or floor plans. Grunts, pointing, and manly throat clearing had become their communication method of choice. Which worked on a noisy construction site, but not so well in a quiet living room.

Restless, Travis started to pace in front of the fireplace. Where was she?

The front door opened and Travis’s muscles tightened, but Bethany breezed into the house instead of her sister. Travis hadn’t seen Bethany since high school, although he remembered her well. And he wasn’t fooled for a second by her bright smile. She hated his guts. If he recalled correctly, she’d written You’ll get yours, playboy scum in his yearbook.

“So good to see you, Travis,” Bethany enthused. “Thank you for taking a break from your busy schedule of ruining the lives of women to be here.”

“Please.” Ignoring the hollowness in his stomach, Travis saluted his beer. “It’s the least I can do.”

She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Selfless as always.”

Kristin bounced out of the kitchen and stopped in front of Stephen, popping a canapé into his mouth. Chewing, he grumbled, “If anyone should be taking shots at him, it should be me.”

“Teamwork is key in this family.” Bethany set her purse down and dusted off the arms of her blouse. “While we have you to ourselves, I should tell you I am completely fine with you dating Georgie.”

Travis raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, I can tell.”

“She’s smart. Funny. Selfless.” Bethany ticked Georgie’s merits off on her fingers. “And she’s taken charge of her sexuality.”

Stephen interjected a loud sigh. “Gross.”

“As soon as this whole business is finished, she’ll be wading through options.” Another brush of her sleeve. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Travis’s stomach pitched. In the kitchen, pots and pans banged together loudly, mingling with the Castles’ signature bickering. Sights and sounds from his youth, and he was grateful for them now, because they distracted him from his seasickness. Georgie dating other men. Recognizing the best thing to ever happen to them, they would lock her down in a heartbeat. Travis would be nothing more than a stepping-stone. In the past. Before Bethany could rain down another blow, the front door opened again.

In the split second before he saw Georgie, he was hit with anticipation and . . . joy. Yeah, joy. Everything would be fine now. She was here with her wit and funny facial expressions and that way she looked at him. Like she understood his every thought without him even opening his mouth. That was before he saw her.

Holy motherfucking shit, Georgie, are you trying to murder me?

She looked so good it hurt. As in his dick. Hurt.

Why? The long-sleeved dress wasn’t even revealing. The V-neck showed off the swell of her tits, but the buttons came up high enough that you couldn’t classify what was showing as cleavage. No, it was the high hem at the bottom that made his mouth water. The yellow dress was loose around her thighs, but it showed so damn much of them, he wanted to cry. He was scared of her turning around. Didn’t even want to know where that hem hit her ass. Were her legs always so shiny—

Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute. They’d been waxed.

These were lounging-poolside-at-a-resort-in-Vegas legs. Which led him to a seriously disconcerting question. What else had she gotten waxed?

“Georgie,” Kristin said, clapping her hands together. “Look at you.”

Bethany put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Hide your sons, Port Jefferson,” she drawled, sending Travis a wink. “A fashionably late entrance and everything. The student has become the master.”

“More like I got caught talking to Mrs. Casey about a party for her triplets.” Georgie set down the bottle of wine she’d carried in, her eyes briefly landing on Travis. A red blush overtook her face and, goddamn, that uncalculated reaction increased his hunger tenfold. This girl could make a man crawl and had no idea. “She wants an underwater theme, so apparently I’ll be wearing a snorkel and flippers.”

“Do they make clown bathing suits?” Bethany said on a laugh.

“No,” Travis growled. “They don’t.”

Everyone stared at him, including Georgie. He liked having her undivided attention. Putting himself in this awkward situation was worth it just to have her look at him, ground him, show him that rare, honest quality he couldn’t get anywhere else. Yeah, he was staring, too, so he was grateful when Vivian and Morty ambled out of the kitchen with yet another cheese plate.

“I’ll carry it,” Vivian said out of the side of her mouth. “That way you’ll stop eating olives before everyone has a chance to see my masterpiece.”

“It’s food,” Morty pointed out, patting his pocket for his eyeglasses. “Food is supposed to be eaten, not styled.”

Vivian skidded to a halt and thrust the cheese plate at her husband. “Georgie! Is that a dress? Are you wearing a dress?”

“Is that what this is?” Georgie looked down. “I must have worn it by mistake.”

“No! No mistake.” Vivian circled around the back of her daughter. “Oh, excuse me. Someone’s got a pair of pins. And not the kind that go in your hair. What do you think, Travis?”

“Don’t answer that,” Stephen called, draining his beer.

“Mom,” Georgie groaned. “You’re pretty much ensuring I never wear another dress again in this house.”

“My lips are zipped.” Vivian patted her hair and grabbed the cheese plate from Morty, just in time to thwart his olive stealing. “I just think it’s nice, Georgie bringing a date to Sunday dinner. I don’t mind the short notice at all. About the extra place setting or the actual relationship. I replace out things when I replace them out, I guess. That’s a mother’s lot in life.”

Travis almost laughed as all three siblings traded a wince.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Vivian said breezily. “Everyone have a glass of wine and relax, okay? This is so nice. All our kids in one place.”

The Castles disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Stephen,” Kristin said, tugging on her husband’s arm. “I have some cupcakes out in the car. Can you help me carry them in? I made enough to feed two armies.”

Stephen eyed Travis and Georgie, obviously dubious about leaving them alone. “Sure, honey.”

“Nope, I’m not going to be the third wheel. I’ll go make a call,” Bethany muttered, sliding the glass door open and dipping into the backyard. And that was how Travis and Georgie ended up alone in the space of minutes. The turn of events sent his pulse thrumming, made his blood heat. Not helpful. Nothing could come of it. There would be no relief. Their objective was to convince the outside world they were dating, not to satisfy each other with touches. Or kisses. There was an attraction here, but he wouldn’t act on it. Not when moving on was inevitable.

Travis couldn’t make himself issue any of these warnings out loud, though, as Georgie crossed the living room in his direction, her legs giving a sexy little flex beneath that fluttery hemline. Had he once actually referred to her legs as normal? I was a fucking idiot. They were petite and lithe and the color of warm sand. He wanted to . . .

Georgie stopped in front of him, hijacking his thoughts. Pretty. So pretty with her chewed-on lips and sun-kissed nose. Had she been outside? Maybe it was the way she only reached his shoulder that sent protectiveness surging up to his jugular, while somehow—at the very same time—he wanted to seek refuge in her.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Georgie whispered something to herself that Travis couldn’t hear and shifted side to side. Before he could ask her to repeat it, she touched him. Georgie touched him and there wasn’t a single camera around. She placed her flattened palms on his pecs and . . . her lips parting on a nervous breath . . . she slid them up and around his neck, bringing their bodies flush.

“What are you doing?” Travis said hoarsely, the impact of her unexpected touch making him unsteady on his feet. “Georgie—”

She’d gone up on her tiptoes in order to get her arms around his neck. When she wobbled a little, Travis could do nothing but wrap a protective arm around her back. The other followed, tugging her tight against him. His mouth found its way into her hair, exhaling, every inch of him reacting to having her body molded to his hard planes so securely. The chaos that had been churning inside him all week settled, while a different kind of commotion took shape. She parted her lips against his neck and his groin tightened to the point of pain.

Oh my God.

“What is this?”

“We’re hugging,” Georgie whispered, her lips brushing his skin again. “That’s all.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me in that innocent voice. Not when all your sweetest parts are pressed up against me in that cock-tease dress.” Trying and failing to maintain an awareness of their surroundings, Travis angled his hips and listened to her breath stutter. “You’re turning me on and you’re very aware of it.”

“Am I?” Georgie leaned back just enough to study his mouth for one beat, two. “I’m trying to be authentic. Isn’t this how a girlfriend greets her boyfriend?”

A low thudding began and spread throughout Travis. In his heart, testicles. Hell, both. Simultaneously. They both hurt like a son of a bitch, so all Travis could manage was a gruff “How would I know?”

Georgie ran her hands up his shoulders, cupping the sides of his face. “I’m glad you’re here. I like having you around.”

With those words hanging in the air, Georgie shifted out of his hold and left the living room, sauntering into the dining room like a certified seductress. The pulse in Travis’s ears hammered nine times for every one of her steps, his hands bereft without the privilege of touching her. What in the ever-loving hell had just taken place? He’d been prepared for an uneasy dinner, considering her siblings wanted to lop his head off with an ax. Instead, she’d walked in here and completely thrown him off-balance.

As if in a trance, Travis joined Georgie in the dining room. As a young man, he’d always sat between Stephen and Morty, but the seat beside Georgie had been left open this time. They traded a look as he sat down, more of that sweet blush darkening her skin and making his tongue feel heavy. They should talk, shouldn’t they? Unfortunately, they weren’t alone for more than a couple seconds. Morty and Vivian came in shoulder to shoulder, bumping off each other like tethered planets, both of them trying to carry the platter holding a roast. Bethany slunk in and fell into her seat across from Georgie—but Travis was focused on Georgie and therefore saw only the look of concern she sent her older sister, followed by a bolstering smile. Something was up.

“All right.” Stephen stomped into the dining room and sat to the right of Morty, Kristin floating to the chair beside her husband and perching with a beaming grin. “Bethany, you called this dinner. What’s your gripe?”

“Who says there has to be a gripe?” Vivian protested from the opposite head of the table, wineglass poised in midair. “Can we not exchange pleasantries first? Your sister wore a dress, Stephen—tell her she looks nice.”

Georgie hid her face behind a napkin. “Oh God. Mom.”

Stephen sighed. “You look nice, Georgie. Yellow suits you.”

“Well, it’s no clown suit . . .” Morty started, laughing at his own sarcasm.

The rosy glow faded from Georgie’s cheeks and Travis frowned. Before he could say something in her defense—what, he didn’t know—Stephen spoke up again. “Is it this women’s club that’s got you dressing up? Or him?”

“It’s not a women’s club.” Bethany drilled her brother with a look. “We don’t meet to do makeovers, you moron. We’re not twelve.”

“I’m just saying, Georgie, you were fine in the overalls and the . . .” Stephen wiggled his fingers above his head, making reference to Georgie’s missing messy bun. “Seems like someone should like you for yourself, not how you look.”

Travis fixed Stephen with a look. “I liked her in the overalls just fine.”

Several beats passed. “Why am I not in this club?” Vivian said brightly, breaking the tension. “Am I too old?”

Morty cut into the roast with gusto, sawing off slivers of meat. “You’re not too old. You’re too happy.”

Bethany centered herself with a long breath. “We’re not doing makeovers and we’re not throwing darts at pictures of male genitalia—”

Vivian laugh-snorted. “Bethany Castle.”

“Actually, I just signed up me, Rosie, and Georgie for a Tough Mudder.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Kristin piped up. “I want to go.”

Stephen grunted and started the passing of the side dishes. “Explain.”

Bethany sat up straighter. “It’s a five-mile run, including an obstacle course. A team-building exercise. In the mud.”

Georgie paled. “We barely made it through Zumba, you complete lunatic.”

“Eh, we’ll be fine.” Bethany lifted her wineglass. “Next Friday in Bethpage. You’re all welcome to come and cheer us on.”

“I’ll be there,” Travis said automatically. If Georgie was going to run five miles and jump over walls in the summer heat, she could get hurt. Or dehydrated. Thinking about it almost turned his appetite. When he glanced up from spooning potatoes onto his plate, he found Stephen and Morty glowering at him. “What? She could twist an ankle or . . .” The room fell silent, knives and forks ceasing their clacking against plates. Jesus. Pull it together, man. He passed the bowl in his hand and dug into the now massive mountain of potatoes that he’d apparently been piling on for a full minute. “You never know what kind of a medical setup they have at these things,” he finished gruffly.

“You’re not doing it,” Stephen grunted at Kristin, before softening his tone. “Please.”

Kristin firmed her chin. “We’ll see.”

“Discord,” Morty droned. “Bethany, your club is creating discord.”

“It’s not just her club,” Georgie said. “We started it together.”

“You’re going to follow what your older siblings do, though. It’s up to them to set a good example for the youngest.”

“She’s twenty-three,” Bethany pointed out. “If this were Victorian England, she would be classified as an old maid.”

Georgie’s laugh lacked its usual sparkle. “You could have left that part out.”

Travis was caught between bites, listening to the conversation unfold around him. It had been years since he’d been in the midst of the Castle banter, but their dismissive attitude toward Georgie was more meaningful to him now that he knew how it affected her. She had changed. Grown up. Why the hell didn’t they notice?

Frowning, Travis stabbed his fork back into his potatoes.

“Now that all the delicacies have been passed and plated . . .” Bethany cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about the reason we’re all here. I want to preface this by saying no one is going to like it. Just strap in—we’ll get through it.”

Georgie set down her fork and crossed her legs, drawing Travis’s attention. The yellow hem of her dress crept up, almost to her hip, the muscle of her thigh flexing . . . and his mouth went dry. But her body language said she was preparing for battle on her sister’s behalf and that realization let loose a stream of chemicals into his bloodstream. Georgie getting ready for an argument put him on alert, because they’d become teammates. Hadn’t they?

“Is this about heading up your own flip?” Stephen drawled.

“Yes.”

“What?” Morty bowed his head. “God give me strength.”

“I’ve asked Stephen several times for a chance to run my own renovation, start to finish, and he has declined. So I’ve decided to purchase my own property and proceed outside the confines of Brick & Morty.”

The utter betrayal on Morty’s face was hard to witness. He slowly set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the table.

“You stage, Bethany,” Vivian said softly. “You chose that role yourself.”

“I know I did, but now I want to try more.”

“Maybe it was a mistake, leaving the business to my children,” Morty said. “Is that what you’re saying? I’ve only been retired a handful of years and already you’re dismantling the company.”

“Bethany wants a more active role. That’s the opposite of dismantling, Dad. That’s—”

Morty held up a hand. “Let the adults talk, Georgie.”

Travis’s fist slammed on the table so fast, everyone jumped. He hadn’t planned it. But anger went ripping through him so fast, his hand moved on its own. That single action hadn’t taken the air out of his ire, either. Not even a speck. “I have a lot of respect for you, Mr. Castle. More respect than I have for my own father. But I can’t sit here and listen to you treat Georgie like her voice doesn’t count for something. You’re better than that. And she’s damn sure too important to be cut off or spoken to like a child.”

Everyone had a different reaction to his outburst. Stephen stared at him, surprised and thoughtful. Bethany appeared ready to cheer, Morty properly chastised. But Travis couldn’t get his damn eyes off Georgie long enough to acknowledge much of it. He got even angrier, actually, because this girl who’d forced him to climb out of his hole all those weeks ago looked so grateful when she should have expected someone to come to her defense. She deserved that and more.

“Travis is right,” Morty said, his expression contrite. “Georgie, I apologize. Please finish what you were going to say.”

Georgie and Travis had been staring at each other since the Great Fist-Pounding Incident. Christ, he liked being on her side. Liked the idea of her counting on it way too much. He also liked those pretty parted lips. Remembering how they felt against his sent blood rushing to his cock. There he was, with a hard-on for the youngest daughter at the Castle family dinner. No help for it. Her dress had scooted up so fucking high on her leg—enough to see the shadow between her thighs. A few inches above that would be her panties. Her wet pussy.

I know you’re wet, baby girl.

“I, um . . .” Georgie cleared the rust from her voice. “I was just going to say, Dad, that, uh . . .” Bethany snickered into her napkin and Georgie shot her a look. “Bethany loves Brick & Morty and she’s one of the main reasons it’s so successful. She wants to help it expand. If Stephen takes the time to guide her on a flip, they could double the number of projects the company takes on. She’s never failed at anything, relationships notwithstanding—”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Beth deserves a shot.” Georgie turned her attention to Stephen. “You hate change and need control. We all get it. But this isn’t like the rope swing at the lake when we were kids—and yeah, I’m still salty you made us go through a sign-up sheet to take a turn. It was a rope swing, dude. But we’re adults now and we shouldn’t hold each other back in the name of tradition. Compromise, Stephen.”

“I’ll think about it,” their brother said after a moment, tucking back into his meal. “That’ll have to be good enough for now.”

“Fine,” Bethany responded with a curt nod.

“Fine,” echoed everyone at the table, save Travis.

A few ticks of silence passed.

“Where is Coco?” Vivian said, looking around the room. “Did we bring the dog in from the backyard, Morty?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Georgie, would you mind going out and having a look for Coco? God forbid she ate those toadstools—”

“Sure, Mom.”

Georgie was already up from the table, heading in the direction of the living room. Unable to stop himself from following her progress, Travis nonetheless caught Vivian’s gaze.

She winked at him.

Caught between laughter and keeling over from shock, Travis tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll go help her.”