Kimberly Raye - The Braddock Boys - Travis

He wouldn’t do that to another woman. He wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

But Travis wasn’t here to warn his baby bro about the nature of the beast, and he sure as hell wasn’t here as a guest. He was here for information.

For forgiveness.

The thought struck and he drop-kicked it right back out of his head.

Even if he did regret the fallout with his brothers—which he didn’t—there were too many bad feelings between them to make amends now. He’d turned on them and they’d turned their back on him. That was that.

Travis stared through the windshield at the lavish spread. His hyper sensitive sight zoomed in on the rose archway where his youngest brother stood facing a petite blonde. To his left, stood his other brother Brent. That sucker-punched Travis right in the gut for a long moment. Brent was the last person Travis expected to see standing next to Cody. Brent wasn’t the stand-up type. He was wild. Free. Selfish.

Then.

But now?

There was no denying that he was here. Cody’s best man. His friend. His brother.

Travis’s chest hitched as he watched Brent hand over the ring. The gold band slid into place and Cody sealed the deal with a kiss. And just like that, the ceremony ended.

Which meant Travis was too late once again.

If he’d come to see the exchange of vows, that is, which he sure as hell hadn’t. He was here for Rose. To find out her whereabouts.

Nothing else mattered.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and climbed out of the Land Rover. Walking through the gate, he crossed the massive lawn. It seemed his baby bro had done pretty well for himself riding bulls on the PBR circuit. Travis had kept tabs on him and knew Cody had won a few championships, but he hadn’t realized the size of the payouts.

Obviously they had been big. Real big.

He closed the distance to the throng of guests and made his way toward the archway where the bride and groom stood amid a shower of camera flashes.

Just before he reached his target, a group of elderly women pushed in front of him to admire the bride’s dress. He tried to slip through, but the women were intent on getting an eyeful.

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” one woman said.

“That dress must have cost a small fortune.”

“I heard her new beau took care of the tab AND bought her this place as a wedding present.”

“Can we stop all this lollygagging and go find a seat? My bunions are killing me?”

“Excuse me,” Travis said to one blue-haired woman as he tried to make his way past her.

She turned a pair of cataract-clouded gray eyes on him and smiled. “My, my but you’re a strapping young man.” “You remind me of my dear, sweet, departed Walter before he kicked the bucket.”

The last thought echoed loud and clear in Travis’s head as he made eye contact with the woman and his chest hitched.

Her name was Gladys Martin and she lived at the local senior’s home where the bride worked as the activities coordinator. Miranda had personally invited all of the ladies at the home and had even taken them to Austin on a shopping trip so they could all buy something special to wear on her big day. She’d also promised to take a picture with each and every one of them, which was why Gladys was waiting in line.

Travis tipped his hat and grinned. “I hate to trouble you, ma’am, but I need to scoot by you and have a quick word with the groom if you don’t mind.”

She looked as if she wanted to protest, but then Travis stared deep into her eyes for a long moment and acceptance sparked. She smiled. “Of course, dear.”

She started to move, but then an ancient little man with a bald head and a mean expression stepped in front of her and broke the temporary spell Travis had cast.

“Hold your britches there, sonny.” Arbor Crabtree poked Travis in the chest with a bony finger. “We all want our picture taken with Miranda and we’re not about to be sideswiped by some young buck who cain’t wait his turn. You’ll get back to the end of the line lickety-split if you know what’s good for you.”

While Travis’s charm worked with the females, he was out of luck when it came to men. Particularly Arbor. He was a two-time decorated war veteran who’d carved up an enemy sniper with his witling knife in a one-on-one battle back in 1942. He still had the knife to this day, carrying it in his pocket for bragging rights.

He also had a hemorrhoid that was making him even crankier than the fact that he’d lost at checkers to Milton Decker earlier that afternoon.

The point? Arbor was not about to be crossed by man or vampire.

Travis held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to put any one out, sir. I’ve just come a long way is all.”

“So did I. Do you know how far away we had to park? Why, this place is busier than the Dairy Queen on senior citizen night.”

“They give free ice cream to anyone over sixty-five,” one of the women added.

“And whipped cream.”

“That sounds real nice,” Travis said. “But I just need to talk to my—“

“Is there a problem here?” The soft, feminine voice slid into his ear and cut him off mid-sentence. He turned toward the female who appeared on his left, her hands on her hips, her blue eyes drilling into him.

She was at least a head shorter than he was, with long, blond hair that had been swept up into a tight, no frills ponytail. She wore a knee-length black skirt and a plain white button up blouse. Sensible black pumps. Boring.

That’s what he told himself. No legs up to here or breasts out to there.

At the same time, she had the most incredible eyes he’d ever seen. Pale blue with just a hint of green around the edges. Color so translucent that, for a split second, he saw only his own reflection in their sparkling depths.

No thoughts. None of her personal stats. Nothing. Not even her name.

Before Travis could delve deeper, she shifted her attention to the old man.

“What’s going on, Mr. Crabtree?”

“This whippersnapper is trying to cut in line,” the man declared. “But Miranda promised me I could have the first picture. I cain’t stand for long without my arthritis acting up.”

“Mine, too,” a woman added. “I’ve got seconds.”

“And I’ve got a corn on my big toe that’s aching something fierce so I get to go third.”

The pale blue eyes darkened just a hint, killing the reflection that had him so mesmerized and opening the door so that he could see straight into her thoughts.

Her name was Holly Simms. Mid-twenties. She was a wedding planner who loved dogs, Reeses’ Peanut Butter cups and her job. Except when she had to deal with stubborn guests or a lying, cheating, line-cutting cowboy.

Ouch. “I wasn’t trying to cut in front of anyone.” He shrugged. “I’m just here to talk to the groom.”

“And we’re here to talk to the bride,” Arbor added. “She promised us pictures and I’m not moving ‘til I get my picture.”

“Me either,” a woman added.

“Neither am I.”

“You’ll all get your pictures. I promise.” Holly turned on Travis. “Excuse me? What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say, but it’s Travis. Travis Braddock.”

When her gaze sparked, he added, “I’m the groom’s brother.”

Her mind seemed to rifle for a memory before recognition dawned and she frowned. “The one who didn’t RSVP?”

“My job keeps me really busy.”

Too busy for your own brother’s wedding?

The question rang loud and clear in her thoughts and guilt niggled at him.

“We’re not very close.” He wasn’t sure why he told her. The words simply tumbled from his lips before he could stop them and he stiffened. “Listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just wanted to say a few words to my brother.”