by Reese Ryan
“Sorry to hear about your parents. How’d you lose them, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She did mind. But this wasn’t about what she wanted. She needed Blake to trust her.
“The crappy little tenement we lived in burned down to the ground. Lightning hit the building and the whole thing went up in no time.” She could feel the heat and smell the smoke. That night forever etched in her brain. “A lot of the families we knew growing up lost their lives that night.”
“How’d you and your sister get out?” There was a pained expression on Blake’s face. It was more empathy than pity.
A distinction she appreciated.
“My dad worked second shift. When he arrived home the building was in flames. He saved me and my sister and a bunch of our neighbors, but he went back to save my mother and...” A tightness gripped her chest and tears stung her eyes. She inhaled deeply and refused to let them fall. “He didn’t make it back out.”
“Savannah.” Blake’s large hand covered her smaller one. “I’m sorry.”
The small gesture consoled her. Yet if not for what Blake’s grandfather had done, her life would be very different.
She couldn’t know for sure if her parents would still be with her. But they wouldn’t have been living in a run-down housing project that had been cited for countless violations. And they wouldn’t have lost their lives that stormy night.
“Thank you.” Savannah slipped her hand from beneath his. “But it was such a long time ago. I was only nine. My sister was barely four. She hardly remembers our parents.”
“Who raised you two?”
“My grandfather.” She couldn’t help smiling. “I didn’t want to go live with him. When my parents were alive he’d always seemed so grumpy. He didn’t approve of my dad. He’d hoped my mother would marry someone who had more to offer financially. But after my dad gave his life trying to save my mom... He realized too late what a good guy my father was.” She shoved the last of her food around her plate. “He’s been trying to make it up to them ever since.”
They ate in silence, the mood notably somber.
“Sorry you asked, huh?” She took her plate to the kitchen.
“No.” Blake followed her. “I understand now why you don’t like to talk about yourself or your family.”
“I’d rather be seen as polite but aloof than as Debbie Downer or the poor little orphan people feel sorry for.”
A peal of thunder rocked the house, startling Savannah. The storm had abated for the past hour only to reassert itself with a vengeance.
“It’s raining again.” Blake peered out the large kitchen window. When he looked back at her, a spark of realization lit his eyes. “Your parents... That night... That’s why you’re so freaked out by thunderstorms.”
Savannah considered asking if he wanted a cookie for his brilliant deduction. The flash of light across the night sky turned her attention to a more pressing issue.
“Where do you keep the bourbon around here?”
Blake chuckled. “I was saving it for after dinner.”
“It’s after dinner.” Savannah folded her arms. “After that trip down memory lane, I could use something that packs a punch.”
“You’ve got it.”
She followed him down to the den. Sam and Benny greeted them, their tails wagging.
This was the game room she’d anticipated. But instead of having a frat-house quality, it was simple and elegant. There was a billiards table, three huge televisions mounted on the walls, a game table in one corner and groupings of chairs and sofas throughout the large room.
One bank of windows faced the mountains. The other faced the lake with more mountains in the distance.
Savannah sat on a stool at the bar. “This place is stunning. It isn’t what I expected.” She studied him as he stepped behind the bar. “Neither are you.”
A slow grin curled one corner of his generous mouth. Her tongue darted out involuntarily to lick her lips in response. There was something incredibly sexy about Blake’s smile.
He was confident, bordering on cocky. Yet there was something sweet and almost vulnerable about him. When he grinned at her like that, she felt an unexpected heaviness low in her belly. Her nipples tightened, and she mused about the taste of his lips. How they would feel against hers.
Blake produced a bottle of King’s Finest top-shelf bourbon. Something she’d only splurged on for high-end, no-expenses-spared affairs when she’d planned events at the hotel.
“If you’re trying to impress me, it won’t work.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I happen to know you get it for free.”
“Not the premium stuff. I buy that just like everyone else.” He chuckled. “Except for the bottle we give employees every year at Christmas. But I did use my employee discount at the gift shop.”
Savannah couldn’t help laughing. She honestly didn’t want to like Blake or any of the Abbotts. She’d only intended to give the appearance of liking and admiring them. But then, she hadn’t expected that Blake would be funny and charming in a self-deprecating way. Or that he’d be sweet and thoughtful.
Blake was all of that wrapped in a handsome package that felt like Christmas and her birthday rolled into one.
And that smile.
It should be registered as a panty-obliterating weapon.
“How do you take your bourbon?” Blake set two wide-mouth glasses on the counter.
“Neat.” She usually preferred it in an Old Fashioned cocktail. But with the sky lighting up and rumbling around her, drinking bourbon straight, with no fuss or muss, was the quickest way to get a shot of courage into her system.
Before the next lightning strike.
Blake poured them both a fourth of a glass and capped the bottle.
Savannah parted her lips as she tipped the glass, inhaling the scent of buttery vanilla, cherries and a hint of apple. She took a sip, rolling the liquor on her tongue. Savoring its smooth taste.
Light and crisp. Bursting with fruit. A finish that had a slow, spicy burn with a hint of cinnamon, dark cherries and barrel char absorbed during the aging of the bourbon.
Savannah inhaled through both her nose and mouth, allowing the scent and flavors of the twelve-year-old bourbon to permeate her senses. She relished the burn of the liquor sliding down her throat.
“You approve, I take it.” Blake sat beside her and sipped his bourbon.
“Worth every cent.” She raised her glass.
“My grandfather would be pleased.”
Savannah winced at the mention of Joseph Abbott. It was like being doused with a bucket of ice water.
She took another sip of the bourbon that had catapulted King’s Finest to success. Their King’s Reserve label had quickly become a must-have for the rich and famous.
Her grandfather’s recipe.
“I look forward to telling him in person.” Savannah smiled slyly as Blake sipped his bourbon. Her grandfather always said liquor loosened lips. She couldn’t think of a more suitable way to induce Blake to reveal his family’s secrets.
“Up to watching a movie or playing a game of cards? We could play—”
“If you say ‘strip poker,’ I swear I’ll—”
“I was thinking gin rummy.” The amusement that danced in his dark eyes made her wonder if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Since you, and the entire town, are hell-bent on getting to know me, I have another idea.” She traced the rim of her glass as she studied him. “‘Truth or dare?’”
Blake laughed. “I haven’t played that since college.”
“Neither have I, so this should be fun.” She moved to the sofa. Benny sprawled across her feet and rolled over for a belly rub. Savannah happily complied.
Blake studied her as he sipped his bourbon. He still hadn’t responded.
; “If ‘truth or dare?’ is too risqué for you, I completely understand.” Having satisfied Benny’s demands, Savannah crossed one leg over the other, her foot bouncing. Blake’s gaze followed the motion, giving her an unexpected sense of satisfaction.
He sat beside her on the couch, and Sam settled at his feet.
“My life is an open book. Makes me fairly invincible at this game.” He rubbed Sam’s ears.
“A challenge. I like it.” The bourbon spread warmth through Savannah’s limbs and loosened the tension in her muscles. She was less anxious, despite the intense flashes of light that charged the night sky.
Thunder boomed and both dogs whined. Benny shielded his face with his paw.
Savannah stroked the dog’s head. “By all means, you go first, Mr. Invincible. I’ll take truth.”
A grin lit Blake’s dark eyes. “Tell me about your first kiss.”
Nine
Blake had always considered himself a sensible person. Sure, he took risks, but they were usually calculated ones. Risks that would either result in a crash and burn that would teach him one hell of a lesson or pay off in spades.
Sitting on his favorite leather sofa, drinking his granddaddy’s finest bourbon and playing “truth or dare?” with the sexiest woman who’d ever donned one of his shirts was the equivalent of playing with fire while wearing a kerosene-soaked flak jacket.
Or in this case, a bourbon-soaked one. They’d both had their share of the nearly empty bottle of bourbon.
Their questions started off innocently enough. His were aimed at getting to know everything there was to know about Savannah Carlisle. Hers mostly dealt with character—his and his family’s. But as the game went on—and the bourbon bottle inched closer to empty—their questions grew more intimate.
Too intimate.
Savannah was an employee and he was part owner of King’s Finest. He shouldn’t be sitting so close to her, well after midnight, when they’d both been drinking. While she was wearing his shirt, her skin smelling of his soap.
Savannah folded her legs underneath her, drawing his eyes to her smooth skin.
They were playing Russian roulette. Only the six-shooter was loaded with five bullets instead of one.
Neither of them was drunk, but they were sure as hell dancing along its blurry edge.
“What’s your favorite thing to eat?” he asked.
“Strawberry rhubarb pie. My sister makes it for my birthday every year in lieu of a cake.” She grinned. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Savannah leaned closer, her gaze holding his, as if she were daring him instead. “Tell me something you really wanted, but you’re glad you didn’t get.”
The question felt like a sword puncturing his chest. His expression must have indicated his discomfort. “Married.”
Savannah’s cheeks turned crimson and she grimaced. “If it’s something you’d rather not talk about—”
“I wanted to surprise my ex with a labradoodle for her birthday.” He got the words out quickly before he lost his nerve. “Instead, she surprised me. Told me she’d fallen for someone else, and that it was the best thing for both of us.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He rubbed Sam’s ears, then took another sip of bourbon, welcoming the warmth. “She was right. It was the best thing for both of us. Marrying her would’ve been a mistake.”
They were both quiet, the storm crackling around them.
He divided the remainder of the bottle between their two glasses and took another pull of his bourbon. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” Her gaze was soft, apologetic.
“Why’d you really come to Magnolia Lake?” It was a question he’d wanted to ask since he’d learned she moved to town prior to being offered the position.
He couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to the story than she’d told him that day. Savannah Carlisle was an organized planner. And too sensible a person to move to an area with very few employment options on the hope she’d be hired by them.
“Because I belong at King’s Finest.” Something resembling anger flashed in her eyes. “It’s like I told you—I was compelled by the company’s origin story. I want to be part of its future.” She shifted on the sofa. “Now you. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” He studied her expression and tried to ignore the shadow of anger or perhaps pain she was trying desperately to hide.
“If you could be doing anything in the world right now, what would it be?”
“This.” Blake leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. Swallowed her little gasp of surprise. Tasted the bourbon on her warm, soft lips.
A soft sigh escaped her mouth and she parted her lips, inviting his tongue inside. It glided along hers as Savannah wrapped her arms around him. She clutched his shirt, pulling him closer.
Blake cradled her face in his hands as he claimed her mouth. He kissed her harder and deeper, his fingers slipping into her soft curls. He’d wanted to do this since he’d first seen the silky strands loose, grazing her shoulders.
He reveled in the sensation of her soft curves pressed against his hard chest and was eager to taste the beaded tips straining against the cotton.
Blake tore his mouth from hers, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her long, graceful neck.
“Blake.” She breathed his name.
His shaft, already straining against his zipper, tightened in response. He’d wanted her in his arms, in his bed, nearly since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
He wanted to rip the orange shirt off. Strip her down to nothing but her bare, freckled skin and a smile. Take her right there on the sofa as the storm raged around them.
But even in the fog of lust that had overtaken him, his bourbon-addled brain knew this was wrong. He shouldn’t be kissing Savannah within an inch of her life. Shouldn’t be preparing to take her to his bed. Not like this. Not when they were both two glasses of bourbon away from being in a complete haze.
He wouldn’t take advantage of her or any woman. His parents had raised him better than that.
Blake pulled away, his chest heaving. “Savannah, I’m sorry. I can’t... I mean...we shouldn’t—”
“No, of course not.” She swiped a hand across her kiss-swollen lips, her eyes not meeting his. She stood abruptly, taking Benny by surprise. “I...uh... Well, thank you for dinner and drinks. I should turn in for the night.”
Blake grasped her hand before he could stop himself. “You don’t need to go. We were having a good time. I just got carried away.”
“Me, too. But that’s all the more reason I should go to bed. Besides, it’s late.” She rushed from the room, tossing a good-night over her shoulder.
“Benny, stay,” Blake called to the dog, who whimpered as Savannah closed the door softly behind her. “Come.” The dog trotted over and Blake petted his head. “Give her some space, okay, boy?”
The dog clearly didn’t agree with his approach to the situation. Neither did certain parts of Blake’s anatomy.
“Way to go,” he whispered beneath his breath as he moved about the room, gathering the glasses and the empty bottle.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. Or brought her here. Or given her that damn shirt to wear.
He could list countless mistakes he’d made that evening. Missteps that had inevitably led them to the moment when his mouth had crashed against hers. When he’d stopped fighting temptation.
Blake shouldn’t have kissed her, but he wished like hell that he hadn’t stopped kissing her. That Savannah Carlisle was lying in bed next to him right now.
* * *
Sam’s howl and Benny’s incessant barking woke Blake from his fitful sleep at nearly three in the morning.
“What the hell, guys? Some of us are trying to sleep.” Blake rolled over and
pulled the pillow over his head.
A clap of thunder rattled the windows and the dogs intensified their howls of distress.
Benny hated thunderstorms, but Sam usually remained pretty calm. Blake sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the darkness.
“Guys, calm down!” he shouted.
Benny stopped barking, but he whimpered, bumping his nose against the closed door.
Blake strained to listen for what might be bothering the dogs. Maybe Savannah had gone to the kitchen.
He got out of bed, his boxers sitting low on his hips, and cracked open his bedroom door.
No lights. No footsteps. No running water. Aside from the storm and the rain beating against the house, everything was quiet.
“No! No! Please! You have to save them.”
“Savannah?” Blake ran toward her room at the other end of the hall. He banged on the guest bedroom door. “It’s me—Blake. Are you okay?”
There was no response. Only mumbling and whimpering.
“Savannah, honey, I’m coming in.”
He tried the knob, but the door was locked. He searched over the door frame for the emergency key left by his brother’s building crew.
Blake snatched down the hex key, glad he hadn’t gotten around to removing it. He fiddled with the lock before it finally clicked and the knob turned.
He turned on the light and scanned the room.
Savannah was thrashing in the bed, her eyes screwed shut, tears leaking from them.
“Savannah, honey, you’re okay.” He touched her arm gently, afraid of frightening her. “You’re right here with me. And you’re perfectly fine.”
“Blake?” Her eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, nearly head-butting him. She flattened her back against the headboard. “What are you doing here?” She looked around, as if piecing everything together. “In my room.”
“You were having a bad dream. The dogs went nuts. So did I.” He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart still racing from the jog to her room. “I thought you were hurt.”
Her voice broke and her breathing was ragged. “Sorry I woke you, but I’m fine.”