The Plan (Capitol Love Series Book 1)

by Samantha Powers

  The Plan

  By Samantha Powers

  Copyright © 2015 Samantha Powers

  Cover art © 2015 Tim Ford

  Published and Distributed by Possibilities Publishing Company

  www.PossibilitiesPublishingCompany.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stores in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely accidental.

  Chapter 1

  “This is the beginning,” Savannah whispered. “This is when everything starts.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed to suppress the urge to shout “WaHOO!” and twirl like a character in a Disney movie. Since it was not quite 6 a.m. on a Saturday, she figured her new roommates would be less than amused if she woke them by whooping and jumping around on the porch.

  But it took real effort to resist because today was it. Her real life was finally starting. Today.

  Dressed in her pink cotton pajama shorts and tank top, Savannah propped her bare feet on the bottom rung of the porch railing and leaned out to see if she could get a glimpse of the U.S. Capitol building a few blocks away, just on the other side of those trees and buildings. Despite having lived in the D.C. area for her entire life—first growing up in Fairfax, Virginia, and then going to school at George Washington University—everything still felt completely new. She was living in the heart of the city, on Capitol Hill, and on her own! No parents, no dorm, no classes. The urge to shout and twirl welled up in her again.

  Unable to stay still any longer, Savannah flung her arms out and started to dance around on the front porch of her new home. Hesitantly at first but then enjoying the sensation of the balmy early-summer air on her skin, she threw her head back and twirled around faster and faster until she lost her balance and collapsed giggling against the side railing of the porch.

  At the sound of clapping, she jerked her head up to see that she had an audience. A guy—correction, a super-hot guy—was standing on the sidewalk. He wore a black T-shirt and faded jeans and had a Nationals baseball cap pulled low over his brow. And he was smiling the most dazzling smile.

  “I give it a 7.5,” he said.

  Mortified that a total stranger had just watched her prancing around in her PJs, Savannah started to sidle to the door. But then she reminded herself that this was the beginning of her new life. So instead she rose up to her full height of 5-foot-4 and said, “Wow, harsh!”

  Mr. Sexy chuckled and said, “Anyone can twirl. I’m looking for personality.”

  “Oh really?” Savannah swept her long chestnut hair into a messy bun. “What if I did this?”

  She stood on her left leg with her left arm stretched out in front of her and reached back to grab her right ankle with her other hand. She wobbled a moment but then steadied herself and tipped forward in the classic dancer’s pose from yoga, stretching her leg back as far as she could and thrusting her chest forward.

  She held her breath and glanced toward the sidewalk to see if he was watching. He was, and he was still smiling, which gave her a little thrill. But that slight movement of her head was enough to upset her balance and she started to tip over. She reached for the wicker chair beside her, but it skittered away when she tried to grab it, and she tumbled to the floor.

  Before she could collect herself, Savannah heard the front door open and cringed.

  “NO. Just...no.”

  Savannah looked up to see Carol, one of her new roommates and the owner of the house, standing in the doorway with a threadbare bathrobe belted around her waist. Her eyes were puffy with sleep, her short red hair was tousled, and she was looking utterly unimpressed with Savannah’s performance.

  “This?” Carol waved a finger as if drawing an imaginary line around Savannah. “With the noise and the energy and the 6 a.m.? Not OK.”

  Carol went back inside, letting the door close behind her with a bang. Savannah stood and turned back to Sir Hotness on the sidewalk, who held her gaze for a long second before they both burst out laughing.

  Then with a slight bow and a tip of his baseball cap, he continued on his way, and Savannah, still chuckling and feeling even more in love with the potential of her new life, hurried inside. She nearly crashed into Carol, who was carrying a mug of steaming hot coffee and who repeated “No” before disappearing down the stairs to her basement room. Savannah’s best friend—and other roommate—Rayne had warned her that Carol could be grumpy, so Savannah didn’t pay much attention, and instead smiled and skipped up the stairs to her room to get dressed. She wanted to be ready when her parents arrived to help her move the rest of her stuff into her new home.

  Chapter 2

  Colin could never be accused of being a morning person, but if he had to be up and working at the crack of dawn, this was the kind of morning to do it on. Late May in the District meant you could feel summer lurking just around the corner, but the early mornings still had the cool crispness of spring. In fact, that was often the only place spring weather existed because winter seemed to move almost immediately into swampy summer if you were a late riser.

  The satisfaction of knowing he’d already worked harder than most people would all day made the morning even sweeter. The addition of the super-cute twirling girl was an unexpected bonus.

  Whistling, he picked up his pace as he headed to Sweet Happens Café to grab a quick breakfast before starting the second part of his workday.

  As he walked inside, Crystal, the café’s owner, greeted him with a warm smile. “Colin! Perfect timing. I just took the croissants out of the oven.”

  “That is not accidental,” he said with a smile.

  Crystal was nearly as tall as him, with short, spiky black hair and big dark eyes. She moved with the grace and athleticism of a dancer, and he’d always admired that about her.

  “Help yourself to coffee,” she said, handing him a to-go cup.

  Colin turned toward the self-serve machines across from the counter, and Crystal said, “I’m also going to give you a blueberry banana scone. It’s a new recipe, and I want to know what you think.”

  “Well, if you insist,” Colin said as the bakery began to fill with the scent of hazelnut coffee.

  “Hey, ah.” Even though they were clearly the only people in the tiny bakery, Colin still paused to look around and dropped his voice slightly before continuing. “Everything go OK with that delivery yesterday?”

  Crystal matched his quiet tone. “Yes, thank you. You really did me a solid. I don’t know how I would have made it through the day otherwise.”

  “Happy to help,” Colin said with a smile.

  The door opened and a gray-haired man in a gray suit walked in, followed by a woman in yoga pants pushing a sleepy toddler in a stroller. Colin stirred some sugar and cream into his coffee and popped on a plastic lid.

  Crystal came over and handed him a white paper bag. “I threw an extra croissant in there for your brother,” she said.

  “Chase? He’s still in whatever godforsaken country he ran off to a few weeks ago.”

  Crystal smiled. “I’m pretty sure I saw him walk by when I was opening up this morning.”

  “Well, shows what I know.” He hesitated then said, “You know you can do much better than Chase, right?” He hoped his voice sounded light even though he was very serious. Crystal had been carrying a torch for his charming but flaky brother since a brief fling a few months ago.

  “Like who? You?” Crystal teased.

  “Ah, you kn
ow I never mix business and pleasure.” Colin winked at her and then headed out the door.

  Chapter 3

  “Dad! Let me carry that—you’ll hurt yourself!” Savannah called as she tried to run ahead of her father, who was carrying a box with a suitcase perched on top and feeling his way for the first step up to her porch.

  “I’ve got it, sweets. Just because you’re suddenly all grown up doesn’t mean I’m suddenly too old to do anything.” He let out a hearty chuckle as he successfully navigated the first step and moved to the second.

  “Daddy, this isn’t about you being old—it’s about the fact that you can’t see,” she protested.

  “I’ve got eyes in my feet!”

  She was about to argue again when her mother came out onto the porch and said, “Oh, Savannah, relax. If he gets hurt, it’s his funeral. Isn’t that right, John?”

  “As always, Marianne,” he said with a smile. He reached the porch and paused to lean out from behind his load to give Savannah’s mom a quick kiss before going through the doorway into the house.

  “Yeah, but it’s my stuff that’s going to get dropped!” Savannah muttered as she turned back to the truck and pulled out another suitcase. Her mother walked down from the porch to join her.

  “Darling, I moved your bed away from the window,” she said, sliding a small box out of the truck. “It was too drafty for you there.”

  “Mom, I just put the bed there. I spent most of the night arranging the room,” Savannah said. “I think it will be nice to wake up to the sunlight.”

  “You’ll get a head cold after two days. Is that how you want to start your fancy new job?”

  “It’s SUMMER!” Savannah called after her mother, who was already climbing up the porch steps.

  “Technically, I think it’s still considered spring,” said a deep and vaguely familiar voice behind her.

  Savannah spun around, and her stomach dropped when she realized it was Mr. McSexy from that morning. After an awkward, speechless moment, she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and said, “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Not taking sides, just stating a fact,” he said with a smile, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  He’d changed into a charcoal gray T-shirt and ditched his baseball cap, and Savannah was trying not to stare at his intensely blue eyes and the way the late morning sun bounced off his short but slightly shaggy brown hair. The T-shirt also revealed the edge of a tattoo on his right biceps and another on the inside of his left forearm that she hadn’t noticed that morning.

  “Hello there! Are you one of Nanna’s city friends?”

  Savannah’s dad had suddenly appeared behind her. Her face flushed red at his use of her childhood nickname, on top of his assumption that this beautiful man was a friend of hers.

  “We could use a little more muscle. Nanna’s better at supervising than carrying things,” her dad said with a good-natured laugh and a squeeze of Savannah’s shoulder.

  “No, Dad! He’s not...uh, he’s just passing by. He’s not helping.” Savannah knew she was bright red down to her toes and prayed that Mr. Hotty would just quietly disappear.

  “I’m in no rush,” he said. “I’d be happy to help, sir.”

  “I’m not going to say no to a few less trips up those stairs,” her dad said as he moved toward the truck.

  “NO!” Savannah said a little more shrilly than she had intended. “I don’t want you to be late for... that thing…”

  In her desperation, she grabbed his arm to turn him toward the street. “You know...that thing you were telling me…” Her voice trailed off as she felt him flex his biceps under her hand, and she had an overwhelming urge to push up his sleeve so she could see the rest of his tattoo. Instead, she dropped her hand and took a step back. His smile faltered, and he looked surprised, confused even.

  “Right. Yes, that thing,” he said, then leaned past her to catch her father’s eye and said, “Sorry, sir. I hope you’ll be able to manage.”

  “Oh sure, I’ve got mad skills. Isn’t that the saying?” her dad asked.

  “It sure is, sir. And I’m sure you do. I guess I’ll catch you later...Nanna,” Mr. Sexy said with a wink.

  Savannah smiled but didn’t meet his gaze and quickly turned to help her father.

  Several physically and mentally exhausting hours later, she waved as her parents pulled away from the curb and headed back home to Fairfax. Too tired to move another inch, she sank down on the steps and rested her head against the railing, wondering what Carol would do if she found her asleep right there.

  “Hey! Did I miss Marianne and John?!” Rayne asked as she ran up the sidewalk from the direction of the Metro.

  “By about 20 seconds. And don’t think for one second that I believe it was an accident,” Savannah said, shooting Rayne a pretend annoyed face. Her friend was very familiar with the chaos that swirled around John and Marianne from their years of being roommates at George Washington.

  “I swear I did not get called into work today on purpose. I really wanted to help! But hopefully this will make up for it.” Rayne handed Savannah a white bakery box.

  “Sweet Happens?” Savannah said, reading the teal-and-brown label on the box.

  “It’s an amazing bakery down by the corner. I never noticed it before, but my boss was raving about the cupcakes the other day and then just now I realized that I walk past it every day.”

  Savannah laughed as she ripped through the tape on the box lid. Rayne tended to exist inside her head more than outside it and was always failing to notice things that were right in front of her.

  “Sheesh, right,” Savannah said around the caramel mocha cupcake she had shoved into her mouth.

  “Good! So the sugar rush should give you the energy to go get showered and get dinner with me?”

  Nodding, mouth full, Savannah stood and started up the stairs, then turned back to Rayne. She motioned to the box, indicating that she intended to keep the other three cupcakes, too.

  “Of course,” Rayne said with a smile as she followed Savannah upstairs.

  Chapter 4

  “So what awesome Capitol Hill restaurant are you introducing me to tonight?” Savannah asked an hour later as she lay on her stomach on Rayne’s bed, freshly showered and wearing the first clean clothes she could lay her hands on—white capri jeans and a loose-fitting pink tank top.

  “I was thinking of the burger place down on 4th,” Rayne said as she slipped on dangly shell earrings. She was wearing a hand-embroidered smock top with faded jeans and sandals.

  “Is it a chain?”

  Rayne hesitated. “It’s a local one—”

  “NO!”

  “You won’t even know it’s a chain! It’s really trendy!” Rayne argued, despite knowing it was pointless. She and Savannah had been having the chain versus non-chain argument for four years, practically since the moment they’d met in college. Rayne was two years ahead of Savannah, but they’d quickly become friends and stayed close even after Rayne had graduated and moved to this house on Capitol Hill.

  “Rayne, what do we say about chains?”

  “That they are predictable, affordable, and comforting?” Rayne asked as she ran a brush through her hair, which was cut chin-length so it framed her face with waves in a rich chocolate brown.

  “Say it with me: ‘Chain restaurants are what the suburbs are for.’”

  But instead of saying it with Savannah, Rayne rolled her eyes then picked up her purse from the dresser. They’d done this routine multiple times over the years.

  Laughing, Savannah got up from the bed, grabbed Rayne in a vigorous hug, and said, “Aren’t you SO glad we’re living together again?!”

  Unable to maintain her pretend annoyance, Rayne hugged Savannah back and said, “I really am.”

  “OK, well, I’m wearing your sparkly flip-flops because I can’t find any of my shoes, and then you are taking me someplace Capitol Hill-ish.”

  “A food truck it is then!�
�� Rayne said as they headed down the stairs.

  When they reached the sidewalk, Rayne steered Savannah toward Eastern Market. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Why don’t you use your spidey sense to find us our new favorite restaurant?”

  “Yes! I’ll find us our new Mulligans,” Savannah said, referring to the bar that had been their second home when they were in college and had led to the discovery of Savannah’s “superpower”: finding the perfect bar or restaurant no matter what city they were in.

  A few blocks later, Savannah came to a stop. “Here.”

  “Here?” Rayne followed Savannah’s gaze to a slightly run-down townhouse with bay windows jutting out on either side of the stairs. The wrought-iron railings were rusted and shedding black paint in places. The word “Zipped” was scrawled across the beat-up front door, looking more like an act of vandalism than an act of marketing.

  “I can feel it,” Savannah said. She ran up the stairs knowing that Rayne would eventually follow.

  Once inside, a slow smile spread across Savannah’s face. In contrast to the shabby exterior, the interior was warm, polished, and classy without being stuffy.

  “Definitely here,” she said as Rayne came up beside her.

  Savannah surveyed the room, trying to decide if she wanted to sit at a round table in a bay window, one of the small square tables with mismatched chairs scattered around the center of the room, or one of the groups of wingback chairs toward the back. She decided on the bar, where she could talk to the bartender and get a better feel for the place.

  As Savannah and Rayne settled themselves on two high-backed stools at the center of the U-shaped bar, a waitress in a black T-shirt, black jeans, spiky pink hair, and earrings covering all of both ears came through the doorway to the left of the bar.

  “Hey, guys! The bartender will be right out,” she said cheerfully, carrying a tray piled with mac and cheese and cornbread to the only other patrons in the place—two men in suits who looked to be in their thirties.