by LuAnn McLane
Now, here it was Sunday afternoon. Savannah had the day off and damned if thoughts of Tristan weren’t keeping her from getting into a perfectly good book that she had been dying to start reading.
“Well, hellfire!” Savannah grumbled, using one of Kate’s expressions. She tossed the book down onto the glossy magazines littering her coffee table, crossed her arms over her chest, tapped her toes that barely reached the floor because her legs were so doggone short, and well…she pouted. At least until she realized that her unconventional childhood meant she had never mastered the fine art of pouting, and after a few moments she felt silly and gave it up.
She glanced down at the coffee table and considered giving the book another try. But the shirtless guy on the cover sort of looked like Tristan and she groaned in pure exasperation. “This is stupid.” She needed to talk to somebody; get her mind someplace else. This was getting…weird.
Knowing all she had to do was walk out the door to find somebody to chat with, Savannah went in search of her tennis shoes. Of course she couldn’t find them and then remembered they had gotten muddy when she pulled weeds yesterday evening. Yes, she had weeded her garden on a perfectly nice Saturday evening.
Savannah put her hands on her hips and started to get well and truly grumpy. “I sure could use a glass of that Angel Food Cake wine,” she mumbled beneath her breath and finally slipped her feet into her flip-flops, even though one was still missing the daisy. Of course, even that brought back memories of the day she met Tristan.
Savannah thought about changing from her tattered blue gym shorts and worn white tank top but failed to muster up the energy. Who knew that having an obsession would be so draining? Because Savannah wasn’t a down-in-the-dumps kind of person, this mood felt strange but for the life of her, she just couldn’t shake it.
“What in the world is wrong with me?” After a long-suffering sigh she looked at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. “Mercy.” Swallowing hard, Savannah reached up and touched the messy braid that was supposed to keep her hair tame but was losing the battle with curls that had worked their way loose. Without makeup her freckles stood out like sprinkles of nutmeg on custard, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, courtesy of her sleepless nights. “I am one hot mess.”
Savannah let her gaze slide down her body and then put her hand on her stomach, wishing it were flat as a pancake. After another sigh she turned and checked out her butt. “Not as big as Kim Kardashian but still…” She pivoted and cupped her full breasts but then had to smile ever so slightly at the memory of the crazy boobs-and-booty dance she and Kate did on Friday.
Savannah took a step back and frowned at her reflection. Having always worried about important things like putting a roof over her head and food on the table, she’d never worried much about her appearance.
Until now.
Oh, she’d dated here and there, mostly stemming from a grandson of someone who lived in Whisper’s Edge. Before landing the job she’d struggled to make ends meet, much less date. One dead-end job had led to another, and, thinking she needed another change of scenery, Savannah had packed her one suitcase and hit the road until she ran out of money.
Savannah remembered with a hot flash of shame that Kate had found her sleeping in this very mobile home, but instead of kicking her out or calling the cops, Kate had fed her a huge meal and they’d hit it off as friends right away. And after an acknowledged background check, Kate had offered her the social director’s position, which had morphed into Girl Friday when Kate’s assistant went back to college when the budget got tighter. The money wasn’t great, but having a home of her very own was a dream come true with the added bonus of home-cooked meals from residents who soon adopted her as their own.
Savannah gave her reflection a wobbly smile. Comfort food stuck like glue to her waistline but there wasn’t a night that went by that she didn’t fall to her knees and thank her lucky stars and heaven above that she’d stumbled upon this vacant home while on the never-ending road to nowhere. From that day forward her life had changed for the better. Kate turned out to be a mom and friend rolled into one. Miss Patty doted on her, and there wasn’t a home in the community to which Savannah hadn’t been invited on more than one occasion. And holidays? Savannah grinned. All of the Christmas mornings without presents and birthdays gone unnoticed were trumped by the showering of gifts that she received from the good people of Whisper’s Edge. She glanced at her bulging closet and had to chuckle. There was one entire rack packed with ugly sweaters and she wore each and every one. A gift, no matter how big or how small or unnecessary, Savannah wore it, used it, or consumed it with lavish praise. She never, ever regifted.
“Oh boy…” She brushed away a sudden fat tear at the thought and then sniffed hard. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of tears very often, and the recent frequency of her eyes misting over was becoming alarming. Savannah sniffed again and shook her head. She’d spent a lifetime tamping down her emotions and pushing away fear. With a lift of her chin she swallowed the hot moisture gathering in her throat. “Just think happy thoughts,” Savannah said sternly. “Oh, Tinker Bell, sprinkle me with pixie dust!” What in the world was going on with her restless, blue mood, anyway? She flopped down onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling fan that Ben had kindly installed for her a few weeks ago. She inhaled deeply and tried to think things out.
Was it hormones? The biological-clock-ticking theory that Kate kept spinning didn’t really resonate with Savannah. Having a child of her own wasn’t something Savannah ever daydreamed about. The only babies she had ever been around were other foster care children, so she never felt that tenderness or longing. Rather she mostly felt annoyance at the messes they made. She’d only had one baby doll. It had been tucked into one of those random bags of Christmas gifts received from the kindness of some charity with tags labeled girl and age. Not quite knowing what to do with the doll, which was supposed to burp and cry, she had traded it for a book. Even as a child, books had been her escape. Her library card was still her passport to worlds of wonder and she gobbled up books and then hurried back for more.
Savannah’s thoughts went back to babies, and she frowned as she stared at the fan. Having only had the basics of food and clothing, Savannah had no childhood memory of being cuddled, rocked, or cared for. And she had learned early on that any show of weakness meant getting picked on, so she learned to stand her ground no matter how hard her knees were knocking. Perhaps it was the feisty redhead in her, but she got pretty adept at staring down bullies despite her small stature. “Sugar, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Kate announced one afternoon when she and Savannah were having a particularly stressful day.
“Well then, I should be able to bench press a boulder.” With a small smile Savannah grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. She darned well knew the reason for her blue mood. Tristan McMillan. She wanted him to notice her as a woman. She wanted him to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Ah, she would thread her fingers through his hair, which she imagined would feel soft and silky, and then he would carry her off to bed and make wild and passionate love to her! She could have sworn he’d been making eyes at her too at dinner, but of course it could have been the alcohol. “Guess he had his beer goggles on,” Savannah mumbled with a lifeless laugh.
Still, she continued imagining a steamy kiss but then inhaled sharply. Dear lord. She put the back of her hand to her forehead and suddenly felt warm all over. She was glad for the slowly moving fan. She considered getting up to tug the chain for more of a breeze but that would require moving and she couldn’t muster up the energy. She needed one of those remotes, but the fan had been purchased secondhand and had one of those old-school chains, which she always tugged more times than needed or not enough.
Savannah wondered if someone like Tristan could ever fall madly in love with her like the heroes in so many of her favorite books and movies. “Not likely,” she whispered, giving in to a tired sigh,
but she grinned slightly thinking that, hey, this was her fantasy so she might as well go all the way. What I need is a fairy godmother, Savannah thought, and then turned onto her side, still hugging the pillow. Oh yeah, and a generous sprinkling of pixie dust.
Savannah yawned. Maybe she would just stay inside after all. She guessed that her lethargy had been brought on by her lack of sleep, and she suddenly felt very tired. Blinking, she decided a little cat nap might restore her energy and hopefully her good humor. Like she’d already told Kate, Tristan was light-years out of her league, and unfortunately there wasn’t a magic wand that could change that situation. I’m not Cinderella, she thought, and my life sure isn’t a fairy tale, even though she loved reading them. But in reality, wishing on a star, like giving in to tears, was wasted energy, which was why she supposed she was so darned exhausted. Of course, it could have something to do with the massive housecleaning she did yesterday—if she had silver, it would have been polished. Combine her cleaning frenzy with lack of sleep and it was no wonder she was bone tired.
Savannah yawned again and then hugged the fluffy pillow closer, squishing it against her chest. A wave of loneliness washed over her and her eyelids suddenly felt heavy. Think happy thoughts filtered into her brain, and she tried, but after a few moments she drifted off to sleep.…
Savannah dreamed that Peter Pan landed on her windowsill but she refused to believe and so he and Wendy flew away, leaving her behind calling after them. Not to be outdone, Savannah hoisted herself up to the windowsill and decided that she would fly by herself but Kate came along at the last minute and saved her from surely breaking her leg or worse. She was just about to convince Kate that they should at least give flying a whirl when the bed moved and then something soft and wet tickled her cheek.
“Mmm?” Savannah sort of woke up but decided this might be a delicious dream involving Tristan so she kept her eyes closed and dearly hoped the dream would continue. This was likely as close as she was going to get to the real thing so she sighed and waited for another moist kiss. Maybe a sweet nothing murmured into her ear. The warm tickle happened again but felt more like a tongue licking across her chin. This didn’t seem like a very Tristan-like thing to do and, oh god, his breath needed a good freshening up.…Wow; this dream sucked, she thought, and it happened again but this time across her nose.
Savannah opened her eyes and was suddenly face-to-face with brown eyes, a big mouth, and there came the tongue again! “No!” she yelled and sat up so fast that her pillow buddy went tumbling to the floor. “How on earth did you get in here?” she shouted.
“The door was open.”
“What?” Savannah looked over to see Tristan standing in the doorway to her bedroom. He was holding a bottle of wine and looking concerned. Wait. Was this still a dream? Her answer came when Willie farted. “Ew, Willie!” She pinched her nose with her thumb and finger. “That was Willie,” Savannah said in a nasal tone, wanting Tristan to be sure that the dog was the culprit.
Willie, the guilty licker and farter, sat there staring at Tristan with a solemn basset hound expression but then edged closer to Savannah, as if staking his territory.
“You smell.”
“I assure you I showered.”
“I was talking to Willie.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows. “I guess I should be relieved.”
“People talk to dogs, you know.”
“You seem to take it to a new level.”
“My rather loud vocal reaction was in response to having my face licked,” she explained but then felt heat creep into her cheeks. “I have no idea how he ended up in my bed.” She gave Willie an accusing look but he stood, or rather sat, his ground.
“Lucky dog.”
“I…uh…” Savannah stuttered. Was he flirting with her?
“I can answer for Willie,” Tristan said. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe looking all calm, cool, and handsome as all get out. “Your back screen door was ajar.”
“Oh, the latch is broken and the breeze blows it open once in a while. I guess you thought it was an open invitation,” she said to Willie, but then looked over at Tristan. “I guess you did too.”
“I’m sorry.” Tristan shook his head. “I’m not usually in the habit of entering uninvited but your car was in the driveway and after several knocks you failed to answer the door.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was…resting.” Savannah flipped what was left of her braid over her shoulder. God, she must look a sight. And he of course had to stand there looking amazing in khaki shorts and a baby blue golf shirt that stretched across wide shoulders and hugged his biceps. He looked fit and energetic, and she had been caught napping in the middle of the day. She felt like a slug. “I guess I dozed off for a minute.”
“Don’t look so guilty. I love a good nap.”
Savannah swallowed when his innocent comment made her imagine him all sleepy and ruffled and shirtless in a big bed.
With her in it.
Dear lord. Savannah prayed that what she was thinking wasn’t written all over her face. She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say…but what does one say in a situation such as this?
“I’m really sorry for intruding.” Tristan straightened and showed her the bottle. “I was bringing you this. It’s Cupcake wine but called Red Velvet. I thought you might like to sample it. You know, since you’re thinking of doing a wine tasting here.”
Savannah put a hand to her chest. “Oh…”
“Seriously, I wouldn’t have barged right into your home but I heard you yell ‘no’ and then ‘how did you get in here?’ and I got worried that you were”—he grinned slightly—“once again in peril. I had my karate chop ready.”
“You know karate?”
“Hell no, but I was willing to bluff my way for your safety.” Tristan gave Willie a nod. “I think I could take him.”
“Willie’s a licker not a fighter.” She patted his head and then glanced at Tristan, who looked as if he wanted to say something but then thought better of it. “See there?” Savannah patted Willie’s head. “You got me in trouble again.”
Willie looked at her with his usual sorry but somehow innocent expression. She imagined if Willie could talk he would sound just like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh.
“Were you chasing after another tennis ball, Willie? You’d better skedaddle on home.” When she gave Willie a pointed look he scrambled from the bed, taking a few pillows with him. For such a short-legged, hefty dog, he managed to leap with some agility, even though he grunted when he landed not-so-gracefully with a tuck and roll, and looked up at them as if to say, “I meant to do that.” When Miss Patty called Willie’s name the naughty dog picked up the pace and hurried on his short legs past Tristan, who watched the dog’s progress with a grin. “You’d better hustle!”
“See, you’re talking to Willie again.”
“Yeah…” Savannah grinned. “And I talk to myself, to the television, to my plants.”
“Does it help them grow?”
“I think so,” she answered earnestly, but then shook her head at his amused expression. “I guess I’m some kind of crazy.”
Tristan chuckled. “Well, don’t change,” he said and then held out the bottle as if he needed to remind Savannah of the reason for his visit. “I’m really not in the habit of entering without an invitation. But in my defense you did seem in distress.”
“Um, yeah, I was! Willie’s breath is not one bit sweet.” She shuddered. “I almost needed an oxygen mask.”
When Tristan laughed Savannah joined him, but he then stood there for an awkward moment. “I’ll just leave this on your kitchen table. Let me know if you like it,” he said, pausing just long enough to make Savannah think he might want to stay.
“Have a glass with me,” Savannah offered before her nerve took a flying leap out the window. “Unless…you know, you have somewhere to go,” she added in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. Her heart pounded.
>
“Um…” He hesitated for a fraction, making Savannah want to pull the covers over her head. God, she must have read him all wrong.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Really?” Oh great, she thought, that was sophisticated.
10
Going with the Flow
“REALLY.” TRISTAN KNEW FULL WELL THAT HE SHOULD leave the wine and walk out the door, but seeing Savannah in the middle of her bed looking sleepy-eyed and sexy had him jumping all over her invitation. It was all he could do not to slide right into bed next to her. She’d been invading his thoughts ever since Friday, even though he knew he should stay the hell away. He’d actually almost called her a number of times but had put the phone down, knowing it was best not to, and yet here he was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Go figure. “I had actually gone to the liquor store for a six-pack of beer, but saw this Cupcake wine on an end cap and thought you might like it.”
“Why, thank you, Tristan.” “She gave him an easy smile that he found adorable.
“No problem.” Tristan excelled at making a point and winning an argument, and he prided himself on his prowess in the courtroom, but he found everyday interaction with people more of a challenge. Savannah, on the other hand, exuded a natural kind of confidence that he admired. He could definitely learn a thing or two from watching her in action.
“That was very thoughtful of you.”
Tristan gave her a slight shrug, again a bit at a loss for words. He also left out the part that the trip to the store had been last night and he’d almost come over then but somehow managed to talk himself out of it. Well that, and a phone call from a partner in his firm that had delayed him an hour. They were already gunning to get him back in Cincinnati. The conversation had left him feeling unsettled and so he had given up on the idea of heading over to see Savannah.
“I’ll go round up some glasses,” she said and scrambled from the bed. Her hair was a mess, she didn’t appear as if she had a trace of makeup on, and was in ratty clothes…and damned if she didn’t look sexier than he had been imagining all weekend long. As he followed her down the short hallway he couldn’t keep his eyes off her very nice ass. Tristan had also tried to convince himself that bringing the wine over was another excuse to walk around in Whisper’s Edge and get a bead on what he wanted to do with the property but he knew he was kidding himself. He wanted to see Savannah, plain and simple.