The Merciless Travis Wilde

No reflection on his sisters-in-law.

Travis was crazy about both Addison and Sage, loved them as much as he loved his own three sisters, but why deny it?

Marriage—commitment—changed everything.

“I can’t make it tonight, Trav,” Caleb had said when he’d phoned in midafternoon. We have Lamaze.”

“Who?”

“It’s not a who, it’s a what. Lamaze. You know. Childbirth class. It’s usually on Thursday but the instructor had to cancel so it’s tonight, instead.”

Childbirth class. His brother, the tough corporate legal eagle? The one-time spook? Childbirth class?

“Travis?” Caleb had said. “You there?”

“I’m here,” he’d said briskly. “Lamaze. Right. Well, have fun.”

“Lamaze isn’t about fun, dude.”

“I bet.”

“You’ll find out someday.”

“Bite your tongue.”

Caleb had laughed. “Remember that housekeeper we had right after Mom died? The one who used to say, First comes love, then comes marriage …”

Thinking back to the conversation, Travis shuddered.

Why would any of that ever apply to him?

Even if—big “if”—even if marriage worked, it changed a man.

Besides, love was just a nice word for sex, and why be modest?

He already had all the sex a man could handle, without any of the accompanying complications.

No “I love you and I’ll wait for you,” which turned out to mean “I’ll wait a couple of months before I get into bed with somebody else.”

Been there, done that, his first overseas tour.

Truth was, once he’d moved past the anger, it hadn’t meant much. He’d been young; love had been an illusion.

And he should have known better, anyway, growing up in a home where your mother got sick and died and your father was too busy saving the world to come home and be with her or his sons …

And, dammit, what was with his mood tonight?

Travis looked up, caught the bartender’s eye and signaled for another beer.

The guy nodded. “Comin’ up.”

Jake’s phone call had followed on the heels of Caleb’s.

“Hey,” he’d said.

“Hey,” Travis had replied, which didn’t so much mark him as a master of brilliant dialogue as it suggested he knew what was coming.

“So,” Jake had said, clearing his throat, “about getting together tonight—”

“You can’t make it.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I can’t.”

“Because?”

“Well, it turns out Addison made an appointment for us to meet with—with this guy.”

“What guy?”

“Just a guy. About the work we’ve been doing, you know, remodeling the house.”

“I thought that was your department. The extension, the extra bathrooms, the new kitchen—”

“It is. This guy does—he does other stuff.”

“Such as?”

“Jeez, don’t you ever give up? Such as recommending things.”

“Things?”

“Wallpaper,” Jake had all but snarled. “Okay? The guy’s bringing over ten million wallpaper samples and Adoré told me about it days ago but I forgot and it’s too late to—”

“Yeah. Okay. No problem,” Travis had said because what right did he have to embarrass his war-hero brother more than he’d already embarrassed himself? The proof was right there, in Jake using his supposedly-unknown-to-the-rest-of-humanity pet name for his wife.

“Next week,” Jake had said. “Right?”

Right, Travis thought, oh, yeah, right.

By next week, Caleb would be enrolled in Baby Burping 101 and Jake would be staring at fabric swatches, or whatever you called squares of cotton or velvet.

Domesticity was right up there with Lamaze.

Nothing he wanted to try.

Not ever.

He liked his life just the way it was, thank you very much. There was a big world out there, and he’d seen most of it—but not all. He still had places to go, things to do …