Savannah's Secrets

by Reese Ryan

  “No.” Blake ran a hand through his hair. “Gramps would never do that. He’d never steal someone else’s work. If you knew anything about him, about his work ethic, you’d know that’s not possible.”

  “Let’s forget about your grandfather for a minute. Tell me how your father acquired the land you expanded on.”

  Blake narrowed his gaze. “The Calhouns’ old place?”

  “How’d your father acquire the property?” She repeated the question.

  “Ownership fell to Mae Jemison—Kayleigh’s mother. She was the last of the Calhouns still living around here. She sold the place to my father.”

  “You mean your father swindled her out of it. Paid her pennies on the dollar because Kayleigh’s father was dying, and her mother needed the money to help her girls finish college.”

  “Who told you—” The question answered itself when he remembered he was standing in the middle of an apartment owned by Kayleigh Jemison.

  That explained why Kayleigh had been so cold toward his family since she’d returned to town a few years earlier. Not that she’d had any great love for them before. She and Parker had bumped heads for as long as he could remember.

  Still, he had no idea Kayleigh harbored such ill will against them. Especially since they’d barely broken even at the time of the purchase, with the amount they’d had to invest in it.

  “That property was an overgrown mess. It was littered with rusted, broken-down machinery and a couple of run-down shacks. Large tanks had been leaking fuel onto the property for years. It cost us a fortune to clean it up and make it usable again.”

  “Of course you’d say that.” Savannah folded her arms.

  The move framed her breasts, which looked fuller than he remembered. Or maybe it was his brain playing tricks on him. Making him want her even when he knew he shouldn’t.

  “It’s true.”

  “Why would Kayleigh lie about it?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe that’s what her parents told her. Or maybe that’s just what she chooses to believe. I don’t know, but I do know my father. And he wouldn’t have cheated them.”

  “You’re just blind where your family is concerned.” Savannah propped her hands on her hips. “The mighty Abbotts can do no wrong.”

  “Never said that. No one is perfect, and we’ve all made our fair share of mistakes.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her, chastising himself. Even now, what he regretted most was that he couldn’t be with her.

  “Maybe you should talk to your grandfather and father before you dismiss what I’m saying. Find out what they have to say to these accusations. You might not like what you hear.”

  Savannah turned around and bumped into the table, knocking her glass onto the floor, where it shattered.

  She stood there, her hands shaking.

  “Where do you keep the broom and dustpan?”

  Savannah shook her head, as if she were coming out of a daze. She stooped to clean up the mess. “I’ve got it.”

  “You’re in your bare feet.” He gestured toward her. “You’re going to—”

  “Ouch.” She lifted her bleeding foot; a shard of glass was embedded in it.

  “Sit down,” he instructed, glad she complied without further argument. “There must be a first-aid kit around here. Where is it?”

  “In the linen closet in the hall.” She drew her foot onto her lap and examined it.

  Blake went to the hallway and opened the closet. He spotted the white metal box with red lettering on the top shelf. He pulled it down and looked inside. There were bandages, gauze, alcohol wipes and a few other items. He grabbed a clean washcloth and went to the bathroom to wet it. When he wrung it out, he knocked something to the floor.

  Blake froze, his eyes focused on the white-and-blue stick.

  A pregnancy test.

  His heart thudded against his rib cage. He retrieved it from the floor and read the word on the screen over and over. As if it would change if he read it one more time.

  Savannah is pregnant.

  Blake swallowed hard, his mouth dry. Was that the whole point of this game? For Savannah to bear an Abbott heir?

  His head was in a dense fog and the room was spinning. He returned to the living room, his steps leaden.

  He handed her the first-aid kit and washcloth. “You still haven’t told me. What was your objective in coming here?”

  Savannah seemed to sense the anger vibrating off him. She pulled a set of tweezers from the first-aid kit and tugged the piece of glass from her foot.

  “To restore my grandfather’s legacy and get what’s owed to him.”

  “Money. That’s what this is all about.” He’d encountered lots of women whose only interest in him had been his family’s fortune and name. Until now, he’d never imagined Savannah Carlisle was one of them. “That’s all it’s ever been about for you.”

  Her chin dropped to her chest and her eyes—already red and puffy—looked wet.

  “Don’t look at me as if I’m some moneygrubbing gold digger. I’m not here for a handout. I only want what’s owed to my grandfather.”

  “You want King’s Finest.” His gut churned as the realization dawned on him. “That’s why you’ve worked so hard to grow the company’s sales. You hope to acquire it.”

  “Only the half that belongs to my grandfather.” She sat taller, meeting his gaze. “We don’t want anything we didn’t earn.”

  “And how exactly is it that you earned half of King’s Finest?”

  “By providing your grandfather with the recipe he’s used to build his fortune.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “And I think I’m being generous in saying we’re only entitled to half the company. A jury might make the argument that all of the profits should go to our family.”

  “Bullshit.” Blake’s face was hot and his heart beat like a war drum. “If you thought you had a legitimate claim, why not take it to court? Why all of the cloak-and-dagger corporate espionage?”

  “My grandfather doesn’t have any proof.”

  “If the recipe is his, it should be easy enough to prove.” He gestured angrily. “Take a bottle of King’s Finest to a chemist to see if his recipe and ours are the same.”

  “It isn’t that simple.” Savannah lowered her gaze, focusing on cleaning her wound and opening a bandage. “He no longer has the recipe. It got lost in the fire at our apartment.”

  “Why would your grandfather have entrusted something so important to someone else?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “I...I don’t know.”

  “Then how did you intend to prove that our bourbon recipe is his?” He stepped closer.

  She bit her lower lip and avoided his gaze.

  “Remember our deal? Tell me the truth, in its entirety. Or we’ll go after your grandfather and sister, too.”

  Savannah repositioned herself on the sofa. “I hoped to find evidence that would corroborate Granddad’s story.”

  “That’s why you were in the archives that night. Looking for proof of your grandfather’s involvement in creating the original recipe.” Her expression confirmed his theory. “And did you find anything besides the photo and notepad?”

  “No, but maybe if I’d had more time to search the files or to talk to more people—”

  “Like my grandfather.” Blake swallowed hard, remembering that his grandfather had looked perturbed and had gone home soon after his conversation with Savannah.

  “What did my grandfather tell you?” Blake had an unsettling feeling in his gut.

  “That he did have a partner in the moonshine business before he started King’s Finest. I was this close to getting him to name my grandfather as the partner he left behind.”

  “I don’t know what role your grandfather played, but my grandfather inherited that moonshine business from his father. And he kept hi
s father’s recipe.”

  “Your grandfather knew nothing about the business when his father died. He was too young. My grandfather taught him the business and tweaked the recipe.”

  “Even if that was true, you just said he helped tweak my great-grandfather’s recipe. That still makes it our recipe.”

  Savannah blinked rapidly. It seemed she hadn’t considered that before. “The courts will determine that.”

  “If you’ve known about this story all your life, why wait until now to try and get proof?”

  “My grandfather is gravely ill.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t bear the thought of him never realizing his dream. Never getting the recognition he deserved.”

  Blake sighed. For all he knew, they were a family of grifters who’d pulled this stunt on other wealthy families.

  He could hear his mother’s voice in his head. And that’s why we don’t date employees, son.

  Savannah shoved her feet into a pair of shoes and got a broom and dustpan to clean up the glass.

  She stooped to the floor, her short shorts providing an excellent view of her firm, round bottom.

  He had zero self-control, which was exactly how he’d ended up in this mess in the first place.

  She’s a liar and a user. Best not forget that.

  “Anything else you need to tell me?”

  Savannah’s shoulders stiffened. She shook her head and finished sweeping up the glass before returning to the sofa.

  Blake’s heart contracted in his chest. His limbs felt heavy.

  He was desperate to believe some part of Savannah’s story. To believe she’d been sincere in their moments of intimacy, which had evidently led to the conception of a child.

  His child.

  He wanted a reason to believe their relationship hadn’t been part of Martin McDowell’s calculated effort to swindle his family out of half their fortune.

  But even now, when she’d agreed to put all her cards on the table and level with him, she wasn’t capable of telling the complete truth.

  Blake pulled the blue-and-white indicator from his back pocket. The one that declared the truth in a single, devastating word.

  “Then how the hell do you explain this?”

  * * *

  Savannah gasped, her fingers pressed to her lips. “What are you doing with that?”

  He ignored the question, asking one of his own. “Is it mine?”

  Her head jerked, as if she’d been slapped. “Of course.”

  “You say that like I can just believe you, no questions asked.” The pained look in his eye hurt even more than his question had. “How do I know this isn’t part of the sick game you’re playing?”

  She felt the tears rising. “I’d never lie to you about this...about our child.”

  “You just did. I asked if there was anything else you needed to tell me and you said no. I’m pretty sure the fact that I might be a father qualifies as something I’d need to know.”

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  “There were two more of these in the garbage.” His voice boomed, making her jump. “That wasn’t confirmation enough?”

  “I wanted indisputable confirmation from a doctor. I didn’t think you’d believe me otherwise. I was afraid you would think—”

  “That this was your backup plan all along?”

  Hot tears burned a trail down her face. She wiped at them angrily. “You don’t honestly believe I’m capable of that.”

  Blake huffed, sinking onto the sofa beside her. “A few days ago, I wouldn’t have believed you were capable of any of this. I was stupid enough to think you actually cared for me.”

  “Oh, Blake, I do.” Savannah placed a hand on his arm, but pulled it away when he glared at her. “I never intended to get involved with you. But there you were. Handsome and funny. Sweet. Persistent.” She wrapped her arms around herself, an inadvertent smile playing on her lips. “I honestly couldn’t help falling in love with you.”

  She’d admitted she’d fallen in love with him, and he hadn’t so much as blinked.

  “Did you know about the baby the night we found you in the archives?”

  “No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I only found out this afternoon. I have the receipt from the drugstore across the street, if you don’t believe me.”

  “I can’t believe anything you’ve said, since the moment we met.” Blake shot to his feet and paced.

  “Everything I’ve told you is true. About my grandfather and parents. About my sister. Even my résumé. All of it’s true. Check.”

  “Believe me, I will.” He tossed the pregnancy test on the table in front of her and left, slamming the door behind him.

  Twenty-Two

  Blake left a trail of burned rubber in his wake as he exited the parking lot behind Savannah’s apartment.

  He was a complete idiot.

  Savannah Carlisle had played him like a fiddle from the moment she’d first sashayed into his office.

  She’d been smart and confident with just the right amount of Southern sass. She’d flirted with him, then feigned a lack of interest, posing a challenge he simply couldn’t resist.

  Then the storm had given him the opportunity to ride in like the hero on a white horse and save her.

  She didn’t ask to be rescued. You insisted on it.

  A little voice in the back of Blake’s head refused to let go of the belief that, on some level, what he and Savannah shared had been real. He was hurt by what she’d done. Furious that she and her grandfather had taken aim at their company. And still, something deep inside of him couldn’t accept that she’d purposely used him as a pawn.

  Martin McDowell had obviously filled his granddaughter’s head with lies her entire life. Built up some crazy fantasy that they were the rightful owners of King’s Finest.

  Maybe Savannah really hadn’t intended to get involved with Blake. But once she had...how could she allow things to escalate, knowing how he felt about her?

  How could the woman he thought he knew use him that way?

  Blake pulled into the drive of his grandfather’s log cabin by the lake and knocked at the door.

  “Well, this is a surprise.” The old man chuckled. “Didn’t expect to...” He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s wrong, son? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

  “We need to talk, Granddad.” Blake followed his grandfather into the house and sat beside him on the plaid sofa in the den.

  “About what?”

  Blake was embarrassed to relate Savannah’s accusations. Afraid there may actually be some truth to them.

  “Blake, whatever you need to tell me...it isn’t the end of the world.” His grandfather gave him a faint smile. “So just say it. We’ll get through it.”

  “You already know what happened with Savannah.”

  “Yes.” His grandfather nodded gravely as he rubbed his whiskered chin. “Shame. I liked the young lady quite a lot. Seems you did, too.”

  Is there anyone who doesn’t know what a fool I was?

  “Max did some digging. He discovered that Savannah is the granddaughter of Martin McDowell.”

  The man’s mouth fell open, his large eyes widening. He seemed to be staring into the past. “There was something familiar about her. Couldn’t put a finger on it then, but now...now it all makes sense. She has her grandfather’s nose and eyes. His boldness and spirit. But she has more business acumen than Marty ever had.”

  A knot clenched in Blake’s belly. “I thought you inherited the business from your father when he died in his accident. When did you have a partner?”

  “I was quite young when your great-grandfather died. Barely even a teen. Papa had wanted to teach me the business, but Mama wouldn’t hear of it. White lightning was the reason she was so unhappy, despi
te the money and comforts we had. Eventually, it was the reason my father died.”

  “He’d been drinking.” Why hadn’t he realized that before?

  “Wrapped his car around a tree coming home from a juke joint in the wee hours of the morning.” His grandfather groaned. “Not the kind of thing I was proud to talk about.”

  “So you learned the business from Martin McDowell.”

  “He was a bit older than me, but he’d worked with my father. A couple years after my father died, we were just about broke. I found Martin, and I made a deal with him for a sixty/forty partnership split if he taught me everything he knew...everything my father had taught him. He was the muscle and he negotiated deals for us. Together we tinkered a bit with Papa’s recipes.”

  Blake could barely hear over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “Granddad, Martin is claiming that our bourbon recipe is his. That you stole it.”

  “That’s a goddamned lie.” His grandfather shot to his feet, his forehead and cheeks turning bright red. “That was Papa’s recipe.”

  “But you just said...”

  “I said we tinkered with the recipe while he was my partner. But I kept perfecting it, even after I bought him out.”

  “You bought him out as your partner?”

  “Still got the paperwork in my safe-deposit box at the bank.”

  “That’s good. You have proof.” Blake heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Why do I need it?” His grandfather raised a wiry, white brow.

  “Because Martin’s got it in his head that half of King’s Finest should be his. That’s why Savannah came to work for us. To find proof that her family should be part owners.”

  The old man averted his eyes and grimaced.

  “What is it, Granddad?” Blake gripped his grandfather’s wrist and the old man shifted his gaze to him. “Like you said, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

  Joseph Abbott groaned and sank down on the sofa again. He dragged a hand across his forehead.

  “By the time I was twenty-one, I got tired of Martin trying to boss me around. The business had belonged to my father, and I wanted it back.”

  “So you bought him out.”