by Vivian Wood
“George Stephanos.” Mama was suddenly at the table. Alex stood until she sat. “I haven’t seen you since you were eighteen and pumping gas at the island petrol station.”
“Mrs. Caldwell, ma’am,” George said. Is he blushing?
“How’s your mother?” Mama asked as she methodically set her plastic flatware.
“She’s good, ma’am.”
“That’s nice. So are you still in the petrol business? Or . . .”
Mama looked up at George innocently, and he turned bright red. “Uh, no. No, ma’am, I own—”
“Oh, well, things change. It was good to see you, dear,” Mama said.
Alex suppressed a grin as George stormed away.
“Rebecca, pass me the salt, dear?” Mama asked. When Rebecca handed her the little white tumbler, Alex noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. That trend had been happening more regularly lately.
It was impossible to keep an eye on his wife the entire day. By midafternoon, she’d disappeared. Not that Alex could ask anyone where his wife was. That wouldn’t look too good.
Finally, he found her hidden on the side of the shaved iced stand with George. They giggled like schoolchildren. “Rebecca?” he said, and ignored George entirely. Alex took her by the elbow and led her away.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing me!”
“Just be here with me and my family. Okay?”
“Okay, okay! Geez,” she said. Rebecca rubbed her arm as if he’d bruised her.
“Y’all enjoy the party now,” George called. Alex could still remember that shit-eating grin.
Apparently, George Stephanos didn’t have any respect for marital bonds.
Alex gripped the wheel tighter as the memory flooded him. He was ruined when it came to women, that was for sure. Trust just wasn’t something he could do anymore. Not even for a woman as hot as Faith.
His knuckles had turned white, but he couldn’t loosen his grip. Alex hated himself for how he’d let Rebecca ruin him. And Faith probably thought he was an asshole just for the hell of it. But there was no way he’d ever tell her why. If Caleb and his big mouth or Lee and his fawning over Faith spilled the tea, then so be it.
Finally, they reached the heart of the city. Alex maneuvered onto the exit. “It says to turn right at the second light,” Faith said.
“To where?” he asked. I know the goddamned city, Faith.
“George’s office. I texted him, and said I was with you. He’ll be in his office till ten.”
Alex was surprised he didn’t split the steering wheel in two. “Well, then you can tell him I’m dropping you off.”
She started to sputter but no words came out. Finally, she managed, “Sorry. It sounded like you knew each other. I thought . . .”
“You thought wrong,” he said as he pulled up to George’s building. It had been years since he’d driven by, and a lot had changed. The all-glass contemporary building stuck out like a sore thumb amid the otherwise brick buildings on the main drag.
“You mean you’re not even going to—”
“Call or text me when you’re ready to be picked up,” he said. There was absolutely no way he was going to see George. Alex wasn’t one to air his dirty laundry, but something about George brought it out in him.
He kept the engine running and stared ahead until Faith got out of the car. In the rearview mirror, he could see that she watched him drive away until he turned a corner.
George would surely spend as much time with Faith as possible. Probably ask her to dinner, or a show, with promises of showing her around town. Fuck.
He went to the aircraft supply shop to pick up a few items for the plane. Next, the big supermarket to stock up on the shampoo and soap he liked that couldn’t be found on the island. After two hours, there was still no word from Faith. Screw her, then.
He’d exhausted his own errands but needed to kill time. Alex drove to the Just Delicious sugar-free bakery and chocolatier on the other side of town. It was Mama’s favorite. He still remembered when she’d been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes twenty years ago. She’d been devastated; acted like the world was ending.
But within a week, she’d started to sweeten her tea with stevia leaf and had pinpointed the best sugar-free bakeries and chocolatiers around the country. Still, Just Delicious was her favorite. Alex suspected it was because it was one of the few that didn’t deliver.
“Someone’s got a sweet tooth,” the young clerk said, her hat oversize and comical. He remembered that look, the slow up-and-down assessment that women gave him. It used to give him an ego boost. Now, it did nothing.
“Yeah,” he said, adept at avoiding any actual engagement.
Of course, as soon as he was handed the receipt, Faith texted him.
All ready!
Yeah, sure you are. As soon as I’m on the other side of Savannah. He took his time getting there. Faith waited on the ornate white iron bench on the curb, covered by an awning. Thankfully, George was nowhere in sight. The feeling is obviously mutual.
Faith hopped into the car, and he knew she expected him to ask about the meeting. He said nothing. “So,” she said slowly. “I’m hungry. You? Can we get something to eat?”
You mean George didn’t take you wining and dining? He bit his tongue and shrugged.
On autopilot, he drove to Captain Sam’s. The casual barbeque joint used to be a favorite of his and Lee’s back in the day. It was on the riverfront and known just as much for the views as its burned ends, brisket, and ribs. “This is so cute!” Faith said as they settled at a table on the patio. “I’ve never actually had real southern food before.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said. Alex pushed the menu aside. He didn’t need to look at it.
“I mean, there are so-called southern restaurants in San Francisco and other places I’ve traveled, but I know it’s not the real deal. It’s always fusion or elevated or something. Oh, look, hushpuppies! I’ve always wanted to try those.”
“You’ve never had hushpuppies.” He was flabbergasted.
“Nope. And what the hell. The barbeque sampler platter, too. Might as well go big or go home.” She pushed her big round sunglasses onto the top of her head, and he sucked in his breath. Her long, lush lashes and piercing green eyes were almost too much.
Alex went to the counter to order and came back armed with a beer carrier filled with condiments.
“So,” she said as she examined the sauce names. “Tell me more about your family. I still don’t quite get how everyone at Greystone is related.”
“It’s not that complicated,” he said. “Caleb’s my Irish brother, and—”
“Irish brother?”
“You know. When kids are born less than a year apart.”
“Oh! I’d never heard that. Maybe it’s a southern thing.”
“Yeah, you know. Or an Irish thing.” She blushed and looked down. For just a second, Alex felt a pang of guilt. Why am I being so mean to her? “Anyway, Matt’s our cousin, but he’s lived with us since we were kids and his parents died.”
“I’m sorry,” Faith said.
Alex shrugged. “Not my parents. I don’t even remember them.” It was a dick thing to say, but he couldn’t help it.
“And Lee?”
“Lee? He, uh—”
Just then, their number was called at the counter. Alex was happy for the excuse to get up. He couldn’t really tell Faith that Lee used to be his best friend until he’d started drooling over Rebecca. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy,” he said as he sat the tray down.
“It looks amazing!” she said.
“Try the hushpuppies first, when they’re freshest. That is, as fresh as straight out of the deep fryer as you can get.”
She smiled at him, and that guilt kicked at his stomach again. Why am I always such a jerk to her?
He took a long pull of his beer as he watched her bite into the fritter. Faith closed her eyes and licked those ripe lips. When she g
ave a little moan, he couldn’t help but smile for a second. “You know, I don’t know how everyone around here doesn’t weigh a million pounds,” she said. “I’d eat here every day if I lived here, calories be damned.”
“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the Deep South. I can’t speak for everyone else in Savannah, but I run five miles per day minimum. Kind of helps balance things out.”
“A runner, huh?” she asked. “I ran one marathon, but that was it. It was my one and done. My runner friends all told me I’d get addicted, but I knew better. I’m more yoga oriented.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Hey!” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with yoga. In fact, it really complements running. There are even yoga classes just for runners. But you know what? I might take up running while I’m down here. It’s not very fun in San Francisco. Too busy, crowded, so you’re usually just stuck on a treadmill.”
“But the hills have to be great for hill work,” he said.
“Yeah, I don’t even know what that is. But trust me, anyone who lives in the city gets plenty of ‘hill work’ without having to seek it out.” She’d devoured two more hushpuppies and had started to work on the barbeque plate.
“Hey!” he said. “That sauce is really hot. You might want to—”
“I can handle it,” she said with a laugh. “You southern boys aren’t the only ones who can take the heat.”
Alex wasn’t going to argue further. He watched her dig into the spice-covered ribs and expected to have to run for a glass of milk. But she was nonchalant. Faith didn’t even reach for her sweet tea.
“So, uh, how long do you actually plan to stay down here?”
“Why? You going to miss me?” she asked. Her lips were stained with the barbeque sauce, sticky and sweet.
“No,” he said quickly.
She sucked in her lower lip and worried it. Alex dropped his gaze, unable to watch. “I don’t really know,” she said. “A month, maybe?”
Alex nodded. He wished it was less. Or at least that the piece-of-crap property she’d been left was decent enough for her to stay in. One month was too much of this girl, that was certain. She sparked something in him he’d never even known he had.
By the time they’d finished, she’d matched him cornbread to cornbread, and end to end. After she’d wiped her long fingers on the wet wipes, she groaned and cradled her flat stomach. “I’m never eating again.”
“Let’s get going,” he said. “Or we’ll miss the last afternoon ferry.”
He couldn’t get back to Greystone fast enough, but he knew they’d be stuck in Savannah rush hour traffic. That’s just what I need, to be stuck for hours next to this girl.
Chapter 7
Faith
She didn’t know what she was going to do. George had been flirtatious, to say the least. Faith didn’t know much about renovations or contract bids, but even she knew the price he quoted was ridiculously low. Of course, she knew it was because George was into her, but who was she to turn down a lust-driven bid? She’d nearly signed the agreement before she walked out the door but told herself not to jump the gun just yet.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” George said as soon as she was ushered into his office. He was the same height as her and a bit stocky. But Faith could tell he had that kind of swagger some women fell for hard. What he lacked in looks, he likely made up for in smoothness.
“Hi,” she said quietly as she took in the office. It was different from what she imagined a Savannah business to be. Minimalist design, with the only decorations being shelves of trophies and ribbons from industry-related organizations.
“I see you have a knack for picking out the best,” George said. “Please, have a seat.” Faith settled into the stiff, uncomfortable but chic chair. George sat right beside her, foregoing his own cushy leather desk chair on the other side of the stainless steel desk. They were uncomfortably close, but Faith wasn’t about to be the one to shift away.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“It’s my pleasure,” George said. “Any friend of Alex’s is a friend of mine.” She thought she detected a touch of disgust when he said Alex’s name.
“Well, we’re not exactly friends,” Faith said. His knee touched hers. “More like connected through family friends. But he doesn’t seem particularly happy that I’m here.” Why am I telling this man all this?
“Don’t you take it personal,” George said. He patted her knee, warm palm partially on the bare skin exposed by the high slit of her dress. “Alex has been difficult since the incident.”
“Incident?” Faith’s ears perked up.
“Oh, well, I really shouldn’t say anything,” George said. “My apologies, ma’am, I thought you knew. Everybody knows. Anyway, what can I do for you? I must admit, I did a little snooping on you.”
“Snooping?”
“What is it they call it? Google stalking? I like to have an idea of who I’m meeting with,” he said with a fake laugh.
“Oh. Find anything interesting?” she asked. Faith knew it sounded flirtatious, but it was a calculated risk. Maybe George had stumbled across something interesting.
“Not much,” he said. “Saw you’re some fancy lawyer in San Francisco.”
“Hardly fancy,” she said, though she blushed.
“Asked round ʼbout you. From friends that came from Saint Rose an’ such. Heard you and your daddy used to spend a few summers here, along with some aunt an’ cousin from up north.”
“Aunt?” she asked. “Cousin? Do you know their names? Are they here now, or . . .”
He raised a brow. “I figured you’d know their names, ma’am.”
“I, uh, I didn’t really keep in touch with the family on my father’s side,” she said.
“Well, then, why don’t you ask your daddy?”
“He’s dead,” she said quietly.
“Oh. Oh my. My condolences, ma’am. I didn’t know.”
He doesn’t know that, but he knows some kind of gossip about Alex? Faith didn’t want to come off as a gossip herself, especially since George had made time for her. “Thanks,” she said curtly. “But in regard to the property, I just inherited it. It’s worse for wear, but I’m thinking about having it restored.”
“Restored.” George repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. Even though he held her gaze and didn’t sneak a look at her chest, it felt like he was skillfully undressing her with his eyes.
“Or something,” she said. Her ears burned. “I, uh, sorry. I don’t really know anything about that kind of stuff.”
“No? Not a professional flipper then,” George said with a smile. His teeth were shockingly white and straight compared to the rest of his aesthetic. Obvious veneers, although well done and clearly expensive.
“Hardly,” she said. Faith couldn’t hold out any longer. She switched the crossing of her legs to direct her body slightly away from him. “I’m actually visiting from San Francisco. I didn’t even know Saint Rose existed until I inherited the property. Or, I’d forgotten. Now that I’m here, though, I keep getting, like, flashbacks to the summers here.”
“Your Aunt Lydia musta taken a real likin’ to you,” George said. “Leavin’ you her whole island and all.”
“Did you know her?”
“Well, not really,” George admitted. “But when you grow up on Saint Rose, everyone knows everyone a little bit,” he laughed. “She mostly kept to herself, but she was a good, solid woman. I did go to her funeral.”
“Oh. I, uh, I wasn’t aware of it.” Faith felt like she should apologize for missing it.
“Don’t you worry. I don’t think the dead take attendance,” he said, and leaned back into the hard chair.
“So you know the property then?” she asked.
“The big one she kept on the island? I know of it,” George said. “Turn of the century, typical Saint Rose plantation home. About four thousand square
feet, quite a lot of acreage.”
Faith laughed. “Well, you know more than I do,” she said.
“I like having leverage,” George said. He smiled, but it was loaded with suggestion.
“Do you . . . do you think it’s a worthwhile project? To renovate it?”
“That’s up for you to say,” George said. He leaned forward again. “What are your plans for it? You Gonna move to the island, use it as a vacation home for yourself, rent it out . . .”
“I’m not really sure,” Faith admitted. “Maybe more a vacation home type of thing. But given all the land, I’d like to keep it as natural as possible. Kind of like an unofficial arboretum and wildness conservation, you know?”
“You really are a California girl,” George said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bleeding-heart liberals. They open their, uh, wallets wide up when they come to me.” This time, he did let his eyes travel to her thighs, which were buried under the thin material. It was calculated, designed to put her on edge.
“I just thought it might be nice,” she said quietly. Faith was used to men flirting with her, but not like this. This felt like a touchless assault.
“I’m sure it’d be real nice, ma’am,” George said. He lifted his eyes back to hers. “Just my professional opinion I was sharin’, that’s all. You know what they say about California girls.”
She cocked her head. “We don’t mind sand in our stilettos?”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “I was goin’ for I wish they all could be California girls, but you right, too.”
Faith smiled. Maybe she imagined the whole predatory creeper thing with George. After all, this was the South. There were different rules, and she knew it wasn’t nearly as progressive as San Francisco. You’re out of your element, that’s all.
“An’ what’s Alex think of all this?” George asked. He reached across the table and picked up a small tin of chocolates. He popped one into his mouth, offered the tin to her, but she shook her head.
“Actually, the whole preservation thing was his idea,” she said.
“Yeah, I can imagine. He was always an odd one, that,” George said. “Never quite fit in here.”