Finding Haven by T.A. Foster Page A

cologne and mint gum invaded her space.
    “Trav, I’m really sorry about the other night, but—” Before she could protest, his
     lips landed on hers and his hands worked their way under her shirt. The entangled
     feelings of want and reason were jumbled in her head. What he was doing felt good.
     However, tomorrow, neither of them would feel great when she didn’t return his affection.
     Maybe in some other world she could use him this way, but they had known each other
     too long, and she would always be in this place with him—not moving forward.
    “Travis.” She shoved against him until she was out of his arm’s reach. “No.” She hated
     the confused look on his face. “We both agreed. It was the last time.”
    He approached her. “But there’s something here. There’s always been a thing between
     us.”
    If she told him she agreed they had great physical chemistry, it would only lead him
     on, but he hadn’t read all the signals wrong. She wanted to give him that at least.
     When she was with him at night, she enjoyed it. They were good together in the dark.
    She shook her head. “Travis, we have been friends forever.”
    “Don’t give me that damn friend speech. I don’t want to be friends. I want to be with
     you.” His eyes blazed. “And you’re being stubborn about it as usual.”
    “It’s not going to happen.” She crossed her arms. “I tried to tell you.” She realized
     then that she hadn’t done a good job of explaining her position. Every time she said
     no to him, it was accompanied by kisses. Kisses that led to other, hotter things.
     Dammit. She could see how the guy was tangled up in the mess she had created.
    “Nothing? You can honestly stand there and tell me you feel nothing?” His fingers
     reached for her neck, but she stepped away. The last time really had happened.
    “I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it?” he whispered.
    Haven didn’t recognize the look in his eyes. She had known him since they were kids
     and thought she knew every expression on his face. It hurt to see him look at her
     as if she were a criminal. The kind of criminal who picks up a knife and plunges it
     deep into someone’s heart.
    “I am sorry. You know I care about you, don’t you?” This was the worst possible end.
     She had to make him understand. She was trying to keep from hurting him more. He had
     to see that.
    “Don’t. I don’t need to hear it. This probably has nothing to do with me, and everything
     to do with that.” He pointed at the guitar resting in its stand. Haven had dropped
     it there on her way through the door.
    It was as if he had attacked her child. Protective instincts rushed through her, and
     she stepped a little closer to the instrument. She always thought Travis liked her
     songs. It didn’t occur to her until now that maybe he only listened to them so he
     could spend more time with her.
    “You know what music means to me.” The realization that he might not understand or
     even like her music mixed with hurt and betrayal in her heart.
    “Yeah, I do. It means more than me, or any one else on this island.”
    “You aren’t being fair. You know I could leave any day. I’m sending out songs every
     week. One of the labels is going to call me. I am leaving, and then what? You’re going to pick up your surfboard
     and follow me to Nashville or Austin? There’s no ocean in either of those places.”
    “I took geography.” He leaned against the door. “You know there’s more to me than
     surfing and working at the store. There are things I want to do too.”
    Haven studied him. She could name his favorite foods, his favorite bands, his beer
     of choice, but she had no idea anything else interested him.
    “Ok, then tell me. What do you want to do? Do you really want to pack up your life
     and leave Perry Island?” She had never asked because she didn’t need to. Travis was
     an open book. One that she had read repeatedly.
    His sigh filled the room.