by Box Set
“Savvy.”
She fought to keep her spine straight, but the way he said her name caressed the muscles until her body loosened.
Damn.
And she needed this like she needed a double-dose of acne on prom night. After all these years her body heard his call and wanted to be plastered against him, naked. But her heart remembered, oh, how her heart remembered the crushing blow it had suffered when he’d left.
He’d never know about the scar tissue around her heart.
She arranged her face to neutral then turned.
“You need to fire your cook.” Soft lines crinkled his forehead.
Her teeth worried her bottom lip. She should, she absolutely should. After her divorce she’d needed a job and a place to stay. She’d rented her cottage first, then wandered into Herb’s! Billy-Bob had cooked up a meal that made the word diet slide straight out of her head. The owner, Herb, was selling, and in a snap, quite possibly not thought out decision, she’d bought the diner with Billy-Bob onboard as the cook. When he did turn up, he cooked better than Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay joined at the hip, but she hadn’t counted on his frequent absences. Still, he got paid minimum wage—mostly because of his head colds—and when they were having a bad week, took his wages in food.
Walker walked directly to her, invading her space. A spicy all male scent rolled over her and her skin heated.
“No, seriously, listen to me, you need to fire the cook today.”
She blinked and stared up at him.
Seriously?
Listen to him, like she’d sit and gaze up at him expectantly, savoring every word he said?
Her blood started to steam.
“But keep the barista because that coffee is amazing.”
Her jaw muscles screamed for release. “I can’t fire the cook.”
The frown lines deepened. “This is your place?”
She waved a hand toward a wooden frame on the wall behind the cash register. “My name is on the health certificate.”
For now.
He scratched the side of his face. “It won’t be for long.”
Whoa.
Exhausted mentally and physically and coupled with a bit of hysteria, she snapped.
“Yeah, you’re right. I should fire the cook, but Billy-Bob isn’t here today because he didn’t make it home last night, which meant I was here at a quarter to five this morning and since we’re open tonight for dinner, I doubt I’ll get home before midnight. I had planned on making cakes for the desserts, but I won’t have time.” She got further into his space until their breaths clashed. “Then I’ll collapse into bed and hope like hell Billy-Bob turns up tomorrow morning, because if he doesn’t, I’ll have a rinse and repeat day, then another, then another.” She wiped her hand across her face, mortified to find her eyes leaking. “That’s the way it is.” She took a deep, shuddering, non-cleansing breath that wedged tightly between her ribs then waved a hand. “Don’t worry about paying for the crap breakfast. Just go.”
He frowned at her, stumped, as if she were a jigsaw puzzle and he couldn’t find any of the corners.
He crossed powerfully ripped arms against his chest. “I take it you’re trying to fix your cook instead of firing his ass?”
She opened her mouth then closed it. So what if she liked to try and fix people? Besides, if she could fix Billy-Bob then she could leave and not worry about him. She tried to fix people so they would stay, as her mother couldn’t and her father hadn’t on an emotional level. Somehow she’d taken on the responsibility to be sure everyone in her circle was all right.
The bell above her door tinkled into life, and because she’d been karma’s bitch for a while, six men in golfing attire walked into her diner. All but one sat and that one walked directly to her.
“Great,” she said under her breath.
“Savannah.” Lawrence, her cheating ex and her bank manager walked straight into her space. His gaze flicked to Walker then back to her.
She stood between two walls of testosterone. Walker gently pushed her behind him.
Now wait a minute.
She stepped from behind Walker and ran her hands along her jeans.
“Lawrence.” She nodded.
“When are you coming home?” Lawrence’s dark eyes, which she used to love, held hers. His spine military straight, his mouth in an expectant line.
“Lawrence, it’s been a year,” she said with only a hint of despair in her voice.
The college quarterback who’d gotten everything he wanted had married the daughter of one of the richest men in the state and at first he’d treated her like a trophy, showing her off, and polishing her. Then he’d forgotten all about her, looking for the next challenge, until she’d taken herself off the mantel.
Seems he now wanted his trophy back.
And to think once she’d adored him and had thought he’d adored her.
“Will you be making a payment on your loan today?”
Acid swirled in her mouth.
And that was one of the reasons she’d come to hate him, because when she said no to a date, he used money, or her lack thereof, to try to bring her into the fold.
“That’s the plan,” she replied in a sing-song voice.
The plan being if she won Powerball and millions of dollars rained down from the heavens. Or a lawyer showed up brandishing a will informing her that a forgotten relative had left her a fortune as long as she cared for a crazy cat named Barry.
Lawrence dragged his gaze over her body. She resisted the urge to squirm. Instead she sucked in a breath through her nose and concentrated on the revenue Lawrence and his five golfing buddies would generate.
Crap.
With a sickening plunge to her stomach, she realized she’d be cooking.
“You will be mine,” Lawrence said as if Walker were invisible, but the tension in the air started to build.
“We’re done, Lawrence.” The blood in her head started to pound.
Along with the many problems in their marriage, Lawrence didn’t believe cheating was an issue because he always came back to her.
Lawrence went to a booth, completely ignoring Walker, because in Lawrence’s world, he was the ruling alpha male. He called over his shoulder. “Tell Billy-Bob the usual and we want the coffee right away.”
With dread flipping in her stomach like a gasping fish on the beach, she pushed through the double doors and stood in the remains of her kitchen, which had been spotless and tidy until she’d walked in and created a culinary disaster. She took a fifteen-second break to calm herself and stared out at the open back door and admired a fat, drunk bumblebee flopping around in a clump of orange, white, and yellow flowers.
“Savannah.”
She jumped; she’d been so lost in her world she hadn’t noticed Walker pushing through the doors to the kitchen. She turned too fast, her hand landing on his solid chest.
Blood heated fast and pulsed into long dormant girly bits.
She stepped back. “Walker, please leave. I’ve got six meals to burn. You don’t need to pay. Please go.” The last words came out embarrassingly strangled.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
If only that had been true eight years ago…
Chapter 2
Walker stared into Savannah’s flashing navy eyes. Her palm print burned like a brand against his chest.
After the text from his buddy Stefano that Savannah worked at a diner in town, Walker had been curious. Reynolds Williams had had serious plans for his daughter back in the day, and Walker didn’t believe they included waitressing.
He’d been hired by her pop’s to fix the cars and machinery on the property. After graduating he’d headed back to John’s as a qualified mechanic uncertain where his life was going and had stayed the summer. Taking the temp job from Williams, he’d gotten one look at Savannah and his mentor’s rule of not touching the hired help—or the boss’s daughter—had flown out the door.
Her father had sa
t him down and told him to stay away from his daughter.
They’d both been twenty-two years old, and he’d believed they were a summer-only thing.
He’d read that very, very wrong.
The dyed blond hair had made way for chocolate curls that were in a messy knot on the top of her head. The straight lines she worked so hard to achieve then were now soft curves he wanted to trace his hands over. Full breasts pushed worn cotton in all the right places. A butt in tight jeans had his dick throbbing. But as soon as she’d opened her mouth and her spark and attitude spilled out he’d been taken aback. This was not the quietly spoken, shy, and full of positivity Savannah he’d known.
And she’d married that prick?
The taste in his mouth was slightly worse than her bacon.
I bet one thing hasn’t changed. She would rather remove her limbs than ask for help.
“Organize the coffees. What’s the order so I can start cooking?” He ran an eye over the professional kitchen. The sink overflowed with pots and one pan appeared cremated. “Have you got anyone to help out?”
He noted the bruising under her eyes and the tired way she wiped her hand over her forehead. Her earlier tears, which had slid down her horrified face, had been a painful indication of how overwhelmed she felt.
He glanced out the window at the blue Corolla and prayed it wasn’t hers. The car was so old it could have been one of the first to roll off the assembly line when Toyota started cranking them out.
“No, I don’t have anyone.” She hauled in a broken sounding breath. “Please go.” She pressed her lips together until they turned paler than her face. A tremor in her voice sounded like she was in pain.
She stood proud, beautiful, and his heart smacked against his ribcage.
Instead of firing her useless cook, she was doing what she’d done back in the day and try to fix things, putting other people over her own needs.
Male laughter pulled him out of his head.
He frowned. “Why don’t you refuse to serve him?”
She turned her head, her eyes bright. “Not a very smart business decision.”
Shit.
She needed the money.
The tinkle of the bell above the door announced another customer. Her beautiful face turned an unhealthy shade of gray.
“Get the orders, get them back here, and get the coffee.”
Indecision rolled across her face.
“Can you cook?”
“Better than you.”
“That doesn’t say much,” she said as if to herself.
He chuckled. “No, baby, it doesn’t.”
She stilled and her face blanked.
He stored her reaction. “What does Larry order?”
“Lawrence, who refuses to be called Larry, and his party of golfers all have scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and waffles.” She walked toward the diner. “I’ll get the orders for the new customers and the coffee.” She turned. “Thanks.” A beautiful smile transformed her face, and it slammed into him with all the finesse of a pipe bomb. Still, he knew he didn’t dare let her smile matter because in two weeks he’d be walking away from her, again.
***
Walker lifted the lids on the stove. Garlic, onion, and a tomato bolognese bubbled away. He’d learned to cook three things when he was a boy, and his dad was on a bender and his sister needed food. He’d been the only one to care about what they ate since his mom had abandoned their family as soon as she pushed his sister out. He’d lost count of the temporary mother’s his father paraded through his life. He’d learnt at a young age to not get attached to any of them as they all left without a backwards glance.
The menu for tonight was limited, but wasn’t going to burn as long as Savvy stayed out of the kitchen. The rub for John’s catfish, which he claimed could sooth Lucifer’s soul, had been rubbed on filets. Coleslaw was mixed and scrubbed potatoes sat like lines of soldiers on trays waiting to be baked. Three o’clock had arrived and the diner was closed to get ready for dinner.
Thank Christ.
He hadn’t seen much of Savannah, who blew into the kitchen with an order then blew back in again when he called her name. Between his cooking and her coffee they’d had a steady stream of customers.
In a rare quiet time with Savannah having explicit instructions not to touch anything in the kitchen, he’d slipped into town under the pretense he needed something from the grocery store.
Savannah walked into the kitchen and stopped in front of him. “Thanks for your help. How much do I owe you?” A wary, hesitant look was her in eyes.
“Owe me for what?” He leaned against the counter.
“For pitching in.” She tucked her hands into the jean pockets. “I can’t pay you much, but you’ve earned it and I appreciate it.”
He carefully folded his arms across his chest. “Savannah, I’m not taking your money.” She didn’t know he had more than enough money to keep him in the lifestyle he’d once dreamed about.
“Yes, you are taking my money. I won’t be in debt to you or anyone. I pay my own way.”
Her beautiful navy eyes flashed with a strength he didn’t remember.
He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and her familiar floral scent wafted to him. The last time he’d seen her zoomed into his memory. Savannah had been curled into his body, her hair across his chest and she’d started talking about the names of their kids, one of each but she’d agree to another. The dog’s name he couldn’t recall, the cat was Butter something. Then the bombshell. She loved him and wanted him to stay. The expectation on her face had nearly crushed him, but the sense of being trapped had overwhelmed him. He’d left the next day.
“Savannah.” The quiet, lethal voice of Larry snapped Walker’s head. A dark purple vein pulsed on Larry’s temple.
Walker moved between Savannah and her ex. The man’s gaze flickered to him but went straight back to Savannah.
What the fuck?
“Well done. You’ve paid six months off your loan and cleared the penalties.” He glanced around the diner. “You must be doing better than I thought.”
Shit.
Walker had hoped to help out an old friend the only way he knew how.
“Doesn’t change that you will be back in my life.”
Walker’s spine straightened as he took in the man. Slightly shorter than his own six foot two. Gym fit and salon-tanned he guessed. He filled out an expensive suit, but an asshole was an asshole no matter how he dressed.
Walker’s fingers flexed. He leaned forward and got into the man’s face who frowned, as if noticing him for the first time.
Savannah’s hand landed on his arm, her fingers tightening.
“Larry. A heads up.” Walker curled Savannah’s stiff body into his side. “We’re partners.”
Larry’s eyes widened then narrowed. “You’re what?”
“I’m a silent partner in the diner.”
“If you were a silent partner I’d know.”
“Stop. Both of you.” Savannah’s voice rose.
Walker grasped her cold hand and squeezed.
“It’s a recent arrangement.”
“I would know if my wife had someone in her life.” Larry’s voice held a threatening tone which made Walker’s fists curl harder. He took a step toward her ex.
“The ink's been dry a while on the divorce papers.” He kept his voice low and measured. Red traveled along her ex’s neck then splashed across his face. “I’m a silent partner here, but I’m not silent in Savvy’s bed and neither is she.”
Savannah sucked in a breath beside him, possibly through her teeth.
He raised his eyebrows and waited, every muscle in his body coiled. Growing up in the bad part of California, he’d learned to read body language from a young age. If you didn’t you wouldn’t see the knife or the hand reaching for a gun. Until a local church who sponsored “at risk youth” had sent him and some friends to John’s second-chance ranch here in Montana, his life had been head
ing toward juvie, a gang and an early grave.
“Savvy?” Color now bled from the man’s face. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing hard. “You’re him?”
“I am.” He had no idea what the man was talking about, but he’d run with it.
“Stop,” Savannah said in a voice that could snap steel. She jerked out of Walker’s grip, her hands planted on her hips. “Lawrence, a phone call from my bank manager will suffice for any further interaction. Now, I’ll walk you to the door.” She led the way to the diner area.
Walker folded his arms and waited.
Proud, beautiful Savannah. She was such a contradiction. Her laughter rang through the diner as she chatted to the locals. The carefully written orders with the pencil indentations through to the next layer. Counting the day’s takings with a smile on her face. One that slipped when she placed the notes back in their slots.
Something about her was off. Savannah smiled and joked with the locals, but when she walked into the kitchen, emotions washed out of her face. Granted, they didn’t know each other anymore, but something about her touched him. The weary wipe of her hand across her face, the tape holding her shoe together. With no other way of helping her out he’d paid off some of her loan.
Okay, so I also wanted her douche ex away from her.
And if he sipped on truth serum he’d have to admit he didn’t like the way her ex looked at her. The man wanted her back in his bed.
Savannah smacked open the kitchen doors like they’d harmed her. She walked to within two inches of him.
“How dare you.” She shoved him in the shoulder, hard.
He hid his surprise at her strength.
“You paid off some of my loan. You think you own me? You told him we were living together?” Her voice rose with every word. “What is wrong with you?”
He flinched.