“How would you know, Ed?”
“Man, you’ve been married as long as I have, you’d be familiar with every paint color in that fan deck.” He nodded to the stack of paint cards at the corner.
The group continued to argue about paint color and terminology. Travis caught Caitlin’s hand and walked her to a corner.
“You okay?” he whispered.
Caitlin’s brows furrowed. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You sounded agitated on the phone.”
“Mood swings.”
“You’re not pregnant are you?”
“Hell no,” Caitlin said, horrified. “I think it’s just PMS.”
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
“Travis–”
“Okay, I won’t be pushy.” But the gleam in his eyes told her otherwise. “Are you feeling better?”
“I wasn’t feeling bad to begin with. Just—”
“Anxious?”
“Yes. That’s a way to describe it.”
“Come on. Maybe food will help,” Travis guided her to the center island where Beatrice was once again giving Nate a hard time about his sex life.
“What’s wrong with redheads?” Beatrice flashed Nate an annoyed look.
“They’re too high maintenance,” Nate said as he stuffed a fried yucca in his mouth. “Look at you. Right, Travis?”
“Not touching that one, buddy.” Travis grinned as he began making himself a plate.
Beatrice glared at Travis. “Tell me. I can take it.”
“I wouldn’t actually call you high-maintenance, Bee,” Travis said warily. “You’re just smarter than most men, not to mention your father is an admiral—”
“That’s what I’m saying; she’s too much work,” Nate murmured. This time it was Caitlin who smacked Nate on the shoulder.
“Bee is not high-maintenance,” Caitlin said firmly. “There’s no problem with men having to work for it.”
Nate laughed and lowered his plate. He looped Caitlin around the neck with his arm and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Says the woman who has my friend tied in knots.”
“Ew, Nate. Wipe your mouth!” Caitlin screeched, rubbing her cheek with the side of her hand. “That feels greasy.”
Travis froze, and he probably would have let it go if Nate hadn’t pulled Caitlin close again. She jerked her head to the side, laughing, and Nate’s lips landed on Caitlin’s throat. Right on that pulse that Travis loved to kiss.
It was Emily who realized the problem, for his face must have morphed into something scary. And as his assistant yelled “Nate”, Travis had already dropped his plate and pulled Caitlin from his friend’s clutches. Vision hazing with red, his fingers encircled Nate’s neck.
“What the fuck, Blake?” Nate choked.
Travis dropped his hand and leaned in. “Study. Now.”
“Travis . . .” Caitlin tried to placate him, but he ignored her and strode to his office.
