“Did you have a good time? Presidential suite? That’s a big splurge for you guys.”
Jimmy settles himself on my couch. “Your boyfriend paid. I kept testing the limit of his generosity, figuring there would be one, but he either wanted us to have a great time”—he gives me a hard stare—“or he wanted to keep us occupied so he could come back here.”
I blush, but I’m admitting nothing. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Lance plops down in one of the chairs. “So he didn’t come back here?”
I prop a hand up on my hip. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he dropped by to check on me, then left because I hardly know him.”
Murray comes to stand beside me. “Easy, Savannah. You don’t owe any of us an explanation. We’re only here to make sure you’re okay.”
I sigh. “I’m telling you the truth.” My declaration is followed by an awkward silence that I break with a question, “Are you guys hungry? We can get breakfast, but I have a lot I need to get done today.”
“Like what?” Jimmy asks with a frown.
“Just first day in the city stuff.” It’s not enough to satisfy any of them. It’ll have to do, though, because I’m not about to tell them I’m heading off to get waxed, plucked, blown out, polished, and highlighted. They’d think I’m doing it for Brice, and I’m not.
Jimmy turns on and off the light on the table beside him as if testing to ensure it works. “No need to feed us. The hotel fed us well.” He rises to his feet. “We don’t like leaving you here, but we’ve got to get back to the bar. The town can’t survive without us for two nights. There’s room in the truck. Want a ride back?” His face contorts and my heart swells. These are not men who do warm and fuzzy very often. Or ever.
I consider his offer longer. It would be easy to get in that truck. We’d laugh and joke the whole way home. I could step right back into my old life.
I’ve never been one to take the easy way out.
“Tempting, but I have an appointment.” There’s another long pause. I know I need to say more. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you drove all the way down just to make sure I’m okay. It’s something I’ll never forget.”
Jimmy looks around at the other guys before saying, “People are going to ask what you’re doing here. About how you are.”
“Because they care too,” Murray adds.
Jay nods once and I find it difficult to choose my next words. How do I separate myself from them without making it seem like I don’t care? Because I do. That was never the problem. “The best thing you can do for me, is tell them nothing. Right now, there’s nothing to tell. When I’m ready, I’ll come back for a visit and see everyone.”
Lance stands. “We won’t tell anyone anything. Do you swear on a jar of fish eyes?”
I snort out a laugh. There are some things that will never make sense to anyone in the city. In Coppertop, when you’re trying to let someone know you can be trusted, you stick your hand in the jar of fish eyes and make a promise. It’s disgusting. Foul. But about as legally binding as Jana’s nondisclosure contract. You don’t enter into a fish-eye promise lightly.
I don’t swear to anything, because I don’t know what the future holds for me. Jana told me I had to cut these men out of my life to be successful. But she doesn’t know how Jimmy always made sure I did my homework, how Jay never let me walk to my car alone, or how Murray went to the store and bought me tampons the day I ran out. I love them.
Once I have my life in order, I’ll figure out a way to keep them in it.
Jimmy takes a step closer and pins me down with a look. “You’re a smart girl, Savannah. And pretty. People in the city aren’t like back home. You need to be careful.”
“You sound like Brice,” I say and instantly wish I hadn’t brought up his name.
“Be careful with him too. Just because a man says all the right things doesn’t mean you should trust him. Men will say anything to get what they want.”
I place a hand on his tense arm. “I’m not a child, Jimmy. I know how to take care of myself.”
His eyes blink fast a few times. “You’re the closest I have to a daughter. I couldn’t live with knowing I didn’t do enough to keep you safe.”
I force a confident smile. “If you all keep acting like you don’t think I can survive a day without you, I’m going to have to kick your asses to prove I can.”
Murray chuckles. “She’ll be fine, Jimmy.”
Placing his hand over mine, Jimmy says, “She’d better be.” Then he steps back.
Jay walks over and stands in front of me without speaking. He doesn’t have to. I know what he can’t say.
“I’ll miss you too,” I whisper in his ear when I hug him.
He has a sad smile on his face when he steps back.
Murry pulls me in for a hug that lifts me off my feet. I laugh through it.
I’m still smiling when Lance walks over, shaking his head. “If you take too long in Boston, Savannah, I may not be single when you come back.”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” I say then wink. Lance has always been a little sweet on me, but it never has and never could go anywhere. There’s no spark . . . at least not on my side. If that is ever unclear to me, all I have to do is remember how simply being in the same room with Brice feels.
He shrugs and struts off. He’s not a bad guy. One day he’ll meet someone who’ll make him forget all about me. Who knows, she might show him that we’d all like him a lot more if he didn’t try so hard.
Jimmy lingers in the doorway when the others head to the elevator. No one could ever replace my father, but he’s been the closest thing to it over the years. My lashes grow heavy with a dusting of tears as he kicks his head to the side and looks at me sympathetically. Is this what it’s like when your parents drop you off to the bus for summer camp? When they leave you at your new dorm for the first time? Things I never experienced but always imagined.
Jimmy seems to pluck up the courage to speak all at once and starts blurting out his fatherly advice. “You might find yourself with some fancy friends in the city, but don’t you ever let any of them make you feel like you’re not already wonderful. Make sure any changes you make are on the outside.”
I nod and blink the blurry tears out of my eyes. He shuffles away, and I watch him turn the corner of the hallway. I want to call out. Ask him to wait. But there isn’t anything else to say.
This is a solo mission.
There isn’t room in a cocoon for a caterpillar and a bunch of her friends. Later, when I emerge, this butterfly can take a trip back to Coppertop.
A short time later, I’m frustrated and more than a little disappointed I didn’t think to set up everything earlier. Every spa I called was booked. I could ask Jana, but I hoped to appear more capable the next time we spoke.
I could go for a run to clear my head, but I haven’t had time to buy workout clothing yet. After a quick shower, I put on my slacks and blouse again, deciding to remedy that.
I’m a block from my apartment when I catch sight of a familiar face before it ducks behind a sign. On one hand it’s irritating that Brice is still having his driver follow me. I’m perfectly capable of getting along on my own. On the other hand, Charles might know something about booking spa time that I don’t. I wave to him. “Hey, Chucky.”
He waves back.
I cross the street to join him.
“Have your friends already gone?” he asks.
“I’m surprised you don’t know. Does that mean your surveillance isn’t twenty-four/seven?” I counter.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “I’m merely passing through the neighborhood.”
I nod and fall into step beside him. “A coincidence. Sure. Listen, I have a question.”
“If I can answer, I will.”
I sigh. “I’m supposed to go dress shopping tomorrow morning. I wanted to have a little makeover before I do that, but I can’t fin
d a place that takes walk-ins for the kind of overhaul I need.”
He lifts his dark glasses. “Are you asking me to book beauty services for you?”
I laugh at the horror in his eyes. “Hell no. I was hoping you’d know of a place that might have openings.” The more I think my question through the less likely it seems he would. “Why would you? I’m sorry. I just hate the idea of trying on dresses with hairy legs.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Normally I’d shave, but you’re supposed to let your hair grow out a little if you want a wax . . .” My voice trails away. “I’m oversharing.”
He clears his throat and replaces his glasses.
I stop walking, feeling like an idiot. Really, what did I think he’d do? Wave a wand over my head like a fairy godmother? When will I learn I have to do this on my own?
Charles stops as well and takes out his phone. He sends my phone the address of a spa just a few blocks away. I’m grateful, but disappointed. “Thanks, but I already tried them. They’re booked.”
“They won’t be by the time you get there.”
I fight the giddiness welling within me. “You can do that?”
He tilts his head as if my question is ridiculous. “When you arrive simply give them a list of what you’d like done.”
My smile is so wide it almost hurts. He really is Murray’s twin. I hug him briefly, an act that takes him completely by surprise and has him stepping away. Too soon? “Thanks, Chucky. I owe you one.”
He nods. “You’re welcome, Savannah. Let’s keep this favor between the two of us, shall we?”
Shall we? See that’s why I can’t be creeped out by him following me. Killers and kidnappers aren’t that formal.
And they definitely don’t make spa appointments for you.
He walks away, leaving me looking at the address on my phone and smiling.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Savannah
Look at me go.
The next morning I’m strutting down a busy street. I may not yet feel like I belong in Boston, but I’m beginning to look like I do. My hair is two inches shorter, lightened in a natural fashion. Every inch of me has been buffed so smooth I’m surprised my clothing doesn’t slide right off me. My slacks and shirt are new, along with my flats. I’m toasty in the camel wrap coat the sales clerk assured me will never go out of style.
I almost bought high heels, but without a car, my feet are my best mode of transportation. No wonder everyone in the city is slim. I’ve never walked so much in my life.
Jana sent me my first task, and I feel completely up to it. I step into a department store with confidence. She challenged me to buy a sophisticated dress . . . something to wear to a charity event she wants me to attend.
Classic.
Expensive looking.
I can do this. The mantra stays in my head right up until I realize I’m wrong. It’s like a reverse little engine that could. I was chugging my way up that mountain and just slid all the way back down in the most embarrassing way possible.
I knew some parts of this journey would be difficult. I prepared for hard work. I just didn’t know I’d break a sweat and be on the verge of tears in the changing room of a department store. No one warned me about this.
The poor clerk, Martha, has brought everything in my size. Some are too loose. Some too tight. One looked beautiful on the hanger. Top to bottom silver sequins and tiny hand-strung beads. Strapless. Meant to fall just above the knee. I’m too curvy for it, and it’s too short for my comfort. A solid addition to the maybe pile.
I try the zipper.
It won’t budge.
My chest tightens with anxiety. What do people do when this happens?
I want to literally rip the dress off me, but it’s expensive and I don’t want to not be able to afford the perfect dress because I have to also buy a shredded one.
Do I call for Martha and have her pry me out? Would someone else buy the dress and ask to wear it out of the store? Like they’d been called to some emergency cocktail party?
If I wait long enough the nervous sweat dripping down my back might act as a lubricant, and I can slide right out of it. Okay, stay calm. I can’t be the first woman this has happened to. I read the sign on the inside of the changing room. Do you know what they don’t list a procedure for? For this.
Even if Chucky is lurking around, I can’t ask for help with this one.
I take out my phone.
911?
I groan as I imagine how my friends back home would laugh if they saw my face plastered on the news with that story. Sadly, it would not shock them.
I consider calling Jana then smack the phone on my forehead as I realize how stupid of a choice that would be. Hi, Jana. Remember how you doubted I was someone you should work with? Let me prove to you that I’m not.
No way.
My phone starts ringing—butt dialing someone.
Wait. What?
I look down at it. It’s not calling Jana, it’s calling Brice. I end the call and drop my phone to the cushioned bench with the vigor of someone swatting a swarm of killer bees away.
Maybe he didn’t hear it.
Maybe he won’t notice the missed call.
I try the zipper again. My fingers slip off because they’re shaking. “I’m fucked.”
“Everything okay?” Martha asks through the dressing room door. I thought I was alone. Someone needs to put a bell on her.
“I’m in luck,” I shoot back quickly. “I really like this dress.”
“Oh good. Should I take it and ring it up?”
“I’m not ready to take it off. I like to spend some time in dresses before I make my final choice.”
There’s a very understandably long pause before Martha replies cautiously, “How much time?”
“It depends.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Martha steps away as my phone starts to ring.
It’s Brice.
I grab my phone and send the call to voice mail. It’s probably not how Jana would have handled the situation, but I’m a work in progress. The phone begins ringing again. I panic and send it to voice mail again.
“Unzip,” I demand of the dress as I wrestle with the zipper again. My phone rings again. This time I answer and sit down on the bench behind me. “Sorry. I called by accident.”
“What’s wrong?” His tone is concerned.
“Nothing. I didn’t mean to dial you. Okay? I need to go.”
“Why are you out of breath?”
I’d love to blame the dress, but it’s mostly because he has a voice that finally explains how phone sex is possible. I’ve always thought there was no way a voice could turn me on, but I was wrong. He’s hardly said a word and I feel all flushed and confused.
Nope, not going to say that out loud. “I’m dealing with a little situation, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“A situation? Look around, do you see Charles?”
“He’s not here.” I peek under the door for his shoes and relax when I don’t see them. I’m getting used to having Charles around, but that would have been a bit much. “You really do need to stop asking him to check on me; I’m fine.”
“Are you? Then tell me where you are. What kind of situation have you gotten yourself into?”
Nothing like his tone implies. Oh, what the hell. “I’m stuck . . .” I finish in a mumble that was likely unintelligible “…in a dress.”
“You’re stuck where?” The urgency in his voice makes it impossible for me to not explain. I can’t let him believe I’ve been sold into some underground sex ring.
“In a dress,” I say clearly. “I’m at a clothing store. I thought dress shopping would be fun but none of them fit right and this last one is apparently a carnivore. The zipper won’t budge.”
He chuckles. “You’re stuck in a dress?”
“Wedged. Jammed. Crushed.”
“Maybe put the thesaurus down to start and take a deep breath.”
“I c
an’t take a deep breath because this dress is ridiculously tight.”
“What’s your plan?” I hear his smile and it makes me want to smack him.
“My plan? Do I sound like I have one? Outside of possibly hiding in this dressing room until closing time. Or climbing up into the duct work and escaping that way.”
“Unlikely you’d make it far in a tight dress.”
“Thanks. You’re a real help.”
“What color is the dress? I’m trying to imagine the scene.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t. This is too amusing.”
“Brice.” His name is all I can muster before my voice cracks. It’s enough. He suddenly stops joking.
“Hang on.” He mutes our call and I almost end it. In the silence, embarrassment floods in. I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Really, I should just ask Martha to set me free. She won’t care. I’m the problem here—me and my damn pride. “Do you have lip balm?”
“I do.”
“My sister says if you put some on your finger and then run it along the zipper it should release.”
“Your sister?” The idea that Brice is a brother, part of a family, surprises me. I pictured him as some kind of island. An autonomous man who doesn’t need anything. But somewhere there’s a sister.
I put the phone down beside me and try it. Like magic, it works. The zipper comes free and slides down the side of the dress all the way to my hip. “Oh thank God,” I sigh as I break free from the dress and catch my breath again. “I thought I would never get out of there.”
“You good now?” Grumpy Brice is sexy, amused Brice is infuriating but still hot, sweet Brice is nearly irresistible.
That thought is quickly followed by the realization that I still need to find a dress. I’ve lost all enthusiasm for shopping though. One task. Jana gave me one task, and I’ve already proven incapable. “Yeah. I am. Thank your sister for me.”
“I will. There’s still something wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing. What could be? I’m free to go forth and try on another hundred dresses.” I make a face at myself in the mirror. Suck it up, buttercup. “I’ll find something. I just should have left myself more time. I need it by tonight. I’ve got this, though.”
The Bachelor Towers: Books 1-3 Page 47