Free The Accidental Bride by Denise Hunter Page B

as the thought trotted through his head, he knew what was wrong. What he tried to deny, tried to shove back deep inside where he didn’t have to think about it. Because thinking about it was useless.
    Seth appeared in the seat beside him where Ella had been moments before. “What’s with the long face?”
    Travis shrugged. Took a drink.
    â€œIt’s a celebration, and we’re the men of the hour. Perk up—we’ll make it to the finals this year for sure.”
    Travis had been to the finals half a dozen times; being a top fifteen earner gave him that privilege. But it would be a first for his best buddy. “Might be right. But December’s a long ways off.”
    â€œWe’re way ahead of the others. Shoot, we could sit out awhile and still break the top fifteen.”
    Seth was right. Still, it wasn’t the thrill it used to be.
    â€œElla getting on your nerves?”
    Travis searched the room and found her at the jukebox, searching the selections. “Ella’s cool.”
    The smoky air was heavy, and the room was too loud. He felt a headache coming on.
    â€œYou’ve got that look again, Trav. Tell me this isn’t about Shay Monroe.”
    It was Brandenberger now, but he didn’t feel like correcting his friend. His lips tightened.
    â€œDude.”
    Seth should understand. He’d been there when Travis and Shay were together. But he’d never understood how Travis could miss someone he hadn’t seen in years. Travis wasn’t sure he understood it himself. It was like a piece of him was missing, and all the pieces he’d tried to put in its place didn’t fit. Not even close.
    â€œYou don’t understand.”
    â€œShe belongs to another man.”
    That one hurt. Nothing he hadn’t reminded himself of a thousand times, but having it out there, so blunt, was a bitter wakeup call. What kind of jerk was he, longing for someone else’s wife? Not like he hadn’t blown his chance.
    He stood abruptly, his chair darting out behind him. Ella was there, a drink in each hand. “Where ya going?”
    â€œI have to go. I have . . . something I gotta do.”
    A song kicked on, loud and familiar. The tune they’d danced to the week before.
    Her smile drooped at the corners. “Oh.”
    â€œNeed a ride?” he asked belatedly. Some date he was.
    â€œCallie can take me home. You’re kinda the guest of honor, Travis.”
    He didn’t care at the moment. He had to escape this place before the emptiness ate him alive.
    â€œCall you tomorrow, okay?” He offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile and headed toward the door, barely aware of the conversations around him, of the peanut shells crunching under his boots, the pungent smell of fried onions.
    â€œHey, McCoy!” a voice called, but he was at the door by then and leaving, escaping into the hot Texas air, making his way toward his shiny new truck.

    He had called Ella the next day, good as his word, but the emptiness had taken up residence and wasn’t budging, not even with the extra hours he was putting in at his boss’s ranch. He should quit, start his own operation, now that he had the money. But did he really want to lay down roots in Texas? Besides, there was more money to be made on the circuit, and he was in his prime.
    Two weeks later he was heating a can of beans on his stove top when his cell rang.
    â€œHi, honey,” his mom said, her voice sounding older than he remembered.
    â€œHey, Mom.”
    â€œI didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
    â€œJust my fancy dinner for one.”
    â€œPork and beans?”
    He laughed at his own predictability. “Everything okay? Dad feeling all right?”
    â€œRight as rain. Getting along just fine, and the ranch is doing great. How ’bout you?”
    His mom heard things other people didn’t. He forced some energy into his tone. “Great. Won first in a