“Thank you, Beau,” she says softly as the light breeze sweeps through her hair. She gets up on her tippy toes and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for being you.” Turning, she gets in the truck, and I watch her drive away.
Getting into my truck, I start to drive home but end up making my way to Savannah’s house. I park in the driveway and ring her doorbell. She answers after a couple of minutes, and I can see that she just got out of the shower. “What are you doing here?” she asks, stepping aside so I can enter.
“I didn’t want you to be all alone tonight,” I answer her honestly, “so I thought I’d come keep you company.”
The smile forms on her face so fast. “I am not admitting this more than once,” she says, “but I was kind of scared to be home all alone.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” I ask when she turns and walks into the house.
“Because then you would worry, and I don’t want you to worry about me.” She walks into the kitchen to the fridge. “You have enough to deal with.” She takes out a water bottle.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say. “Want to watch a movie before bed?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “But I’ll sit with you and probably fall asleep.”
I laugh. “You do that anyway.” Turning, I walk down the hallway to the bathroom I usually shower in. After turning on the water, I open the cabinet and grab my shorts that I keep here.
When I’m finished and walk back out there, I find her already asleep on the couch. I don’t bother turning on the television. I just cover her up and walk back to the spare room and fall into bed. The next morning, the alarm wakes me, and I find her still sleeping. I get dressed and leave her a note before going home and getting ready for the day.
I’m in the middle of drafting up an email when she texts me.
Savannah: You left, and I didn’t even have to cook you breakfast. Thanks for yesterday. You always know what I need.
I smile and answer her back right away.
Me: You owe me breakfast, and I’ll collect it soon. I don’t know if I can get over to you today, already have a commitment.
Savannah: Have fun on your date.
I’m about to answer her when the knock on the door of my office has me looking up. “I have all the documents that you asked for,” Bonnie says. “Also, the bridge club ladies are requesting you for their annual luncheon.” I look at her. “They do it every year. Your father has always gone, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.”
“With all these teas, lunches, and dinners, it’s a wonder he got anything done,” I mumble, and she just smiles at me.
I go to lunch where I spend two hours doing nothing productive. Then I’m sucked into a meeting with a bridge club member’s husband about some tradition that was done for over five hundred years, and when I finally walk into my house, my ass is dragging. I open my fridge to grab a water bottle, and I’m about to call Savannah and see where she is when my phone rings.
I walk back to the kitchen in search of my other car keys when the phone rings again, and I pick it up and see it’s Jacob.
“Hey.”
“Where are you?” he asks, and I can hear in his voice that he’s frantic.
“I’m home,” I answer, stopping what I’m doing. “What’s wrong?”
“I just got off the phone with Savannah.” His voice goes tight. “Someone just trashed her house.”
Chapter Ten
Savannah
“Don’t touch anything!” Jacob says loudly. “Grady is going to be there in five minutes.” I close my eyes and sit on the step in front of my house. “Did you call Beau?”
“No,” I say softly. “He’s on a date, and I don’t want to disturb him,” I say, ignoring the burning in my stomach and wondering if I can wake up and have a redo of this day. Actually, if I can have a redo of the past week, that would work also. I mean, not the whole week because I don’t want to take back the kiss. The kiss that I’ve been waiting for all my life, the kiss to end all first kisses. To say that I was in shock is an understatement … and then when he told me he’s wanted to do that for a long time? My heart went pitter-patter while my stomach did the wave as I tried to think of how to respond. I should have just come right out and told him that I have also wanted to kiss him for a long time, but instead, I stood in the middle of the dance floor just touching my lips. “It’s fine. Grady is going to be here, and we’ll handle things.”
“I’m so sorry I’m not there,” he says softly. “If you want, we can come back. I know Ethan would understand.”
“No,” I snap. “This is going to be good for Ethan to enjoy the mountains. He doesn’t need to be here for this shit.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind …” he says.
“Thank you, Jacob.” My voice is still low, and I’m trying not to sound or feel defeated, but at some point, you just have to say fuck this shit and move on. It’s becoming very clear to me that this is the line. Forget that my bar was trashed but now someone has broken the front windows of my house. I just got off the phone with the insurance agent, and he basically told me that I’m not covered with my bar since the alarm was tampered with, and I could have done it. “Not just for this but for—”
“No need to thank me. I’ll call you when I get the report from Grady,” he says and hangs up. I sit here on the step, looking out at the other houses around. I’ve been here for seven years, and none of my neighbors have ever smiled or waved at me. Let’s not forget how they go out of their way to come out and wave at Ethan when he gets here. But me? Nada.
I hear a car approaching and see that it’s Grady. He gets out of his truck, and I see a couple of people come out of their houses and stop to stare. He walks up the drive, smiling in his deputy’s uniform and aviator glasses. “If you wanted to see me again, all you had to do was call,” he jokes, and I shake my head.
“Guilty,” I say, holding up my hands. “The jig is up. I did all this just to get you to come to my rescue,” I joke with him and laugh as I stand.
“So what happened?” he asks, taking off his glasses and looking around.
“I was walking up the step when I got home, and my foot cracked on glass. When I looked up, I saw that the window over there”—I point at my big bay window—“was busted, and then when I got closer to the door, I noticed that the window on that side”—I point at the other side—“was smashed, too. I called Jacob, and he told me not to go in until you got here.”
“He’s right. Did you hear anything?” he asks, walking to the side of the house. “I’m going to go check the back.” I nod my head and wipe the tear from my eye. When he returns, he says, “You have two more busted windows in the back.”
“Great.” I take a deep inhale and let it out slowly. “Just freaking great.”
“Let’s check out inside,” Grady says. “I don’t think anyone is inside, or they would have left already,” he says, coming up the steps and waiting for me to open the door. I click open the door, and so far, everything looks the same except I see a brown brick right in the middle of the room where my bay window sits. Grady walks around me and picks it up and looks down at it, and he hisses.
I walk over to him and see that it has the word bitch painted in red.
“I’ve been called worse.” I try not to let it get to me. I wonder what everyone would say if they knew I’ve had sex once in my whole life. We walk to the other room, and I see another brick. This time, I pick it up, and I see it has whore painted in red.
“Well, I’m sensing a theme.” I shake my head, and my stomach sinks. The burning starts in my eyes and then moves down to my nose, and I wonder how I can pull off the whole “I have allergies” in the middle of the house. We walk into the kitchen, and I see both back windows with holes in them. One brick has slut, and the other one has nothing.
“I guess they ran out of words.” When I try to laugh, a sob rips through me, surprising me. The brick falls out of my hand, making the loudest sound
when it lands by my feet on the broken glass. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to keep the sound from echoing.
Grady walks over to me and takes me in his arms. I want to tell him I’m fine, and it doesn’t bother me, but the only thing that comes out is another sob.
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly, and before I can say anything, I hear the front door open and Beau shouting my name.
He comes running into the kitchen and sees me in Grady’s arms, and I think I see him glare but I’m not sure. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks, looking around and then he spots the bricks that Grady put on my counter. His eyes fly from the bricks to me, and I step out of Grady’s arms. “Who did this?”
“I don’t know,” I say, walking to the side of the couch and grabbing a tissue. “I got here, and I saw the window.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. I shrug, but I don’t make eye contact with him.
“Not much you can do,” Grady answers. “I’m going to make a report and check to see if there is anything out of place in the bedrooms.” I nod as he walks back to the bedrooms.
“Savannah.” Beau calls my name, and I look at him. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I called Jacob,” I say, and he just looks at me.
“Why?” he asks. I look at him and then quickly look away. It always hurts to look at him after he was on a date or whenever I hear the rumor mill going full force on his conquests.
“I figured you were busy,” I say and walk to the fridge to get a bottle of water. Grady comes back from the bedrooms.
“It looks like everything is in its place, but I’m going to need you to confirm it.” He looks at me. “Jacob said that he is going to send someone to board up the windows, but he doesn’t want you spending the night here.”
“I agree,” Beau says, and I look at him. “Until the windows are replaced, you need to pack a bag.”
“I’ll be outside,” Grady says, and he walks out.
“Fine. I guess I can stay at the motel in town,” I say, pissed that I’m being run out of my home.
“Savannah.” He calls my name when I look down, blinking away tears. “You aren’t staying at the motel in town.” I bring the water bottle to my lips and take a sip. My mouth drier than the desert in the summer. “You can stay with me.”
I’m about to tell him that I’ll be fine and that I don’t want to stay in his house. Standing here in the kitchen with him, I wonder if he was with someone just now and if I maybe interrupted his date. Knowing it is one thing but seeing it? Two different things. “I don’t want to cramp your style,” I say, leaning back on the counter and putting the water bottle on the counter. “I can call Jacob and see if I can crash on their couch.”
“Cramp my style?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t even know what that means.”
I’ve had a really shitty day, and whatever patience I have is gone. “It means that you have women who obviously like to stop by, and I don’t want to be in the way.”
“One,” he says, walking toward me, “you never get in the way, and two …” He stands right in front of me, and I really hope he doesn’t touch me. “That’s the first time anyone has come into my house.” My heart speeds up, and I try to make sure that I have my poker face on. I’m not supposed to show him that it bothers me, and I hate it. He isn’t supposed to know. “So pack your bag, Savannah.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes, and walk toward my bedroom. I ignore the loud thumping of my heart, and when I finally get into my bedroom, I sit on the bed and rub my hands over my face. Looking around the room, I see that nothing has actually been touched. My king-size bed is still made from this morning and the pictures of Ethan and me by the bed haven’t moved. I open the drawer beside my bed and see the one picture I keep hidden. It’s of Beau and me on New Year's Eve last year at the bar. He walked around the bar with five seconds to go, and when the countdown hit zero, he wrapped one arm around my waist and kissed me for a split second. The picture in the frame was taken at the exact moment before he kissed me. Both of us smiling from ear to ear, it’s a picture I look at often but don’t discuss. I close the drawer right when I hear footsteps coming toward my bedroom. I look up and see Beau fill my doorframe.
“Grady just left,” he says. Leaning to the right, he folds his arms over his chest, making the muscles in his arms bulge. “How are you doing?”
“How am I doing?” I repeat his question and laugh sarcastically. “How am I doing? Well, let me see. The biggest secret of my whole life is out now. My bar got trashed, and my insurance is claiming that I did it because, well, every single normal person trashes their place of business. Destroying the only income that I have ’cause that’s a great idea,” I say angrily. I brush away the one tear that escapes my eye, not willing to give anyone else my tears. “Then someone or maybe the same person decides that I don’t have enough shit going on right now, so they decide to break my windows with bricks.” Another tear falls. “Fuck!” I shout and look up at the ceiling. “Why am I letting this get to me?”
He squats down in front of me and takes my hands in his. “You’re human.”
I shake my head. “Are you sure? I didn’t see that written on any bricks. I did see the usual slut, bitch, whore. I wonder …?” I look at him, and my voice goes low. “How would it feel to walk out of my house and have neighbors who smiled at me and waved. Or even asked me how my day was,” I say, getting up. My hands fall from his as his eyes just look into mine with a look that is almost pity and sadness. “I bet it would be amazing.” Turning, I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me so he doesn’t see me cry yet again.
Chapter Eleven
Beau
I listen to the click of the bathroom door before I get up and sit on her bed. What the fuck? I knew that people were rough on her, and I knew that people were still assholes about everything that went down eight years ago, but she always just shrugged it off. Or at least made it seem like it didn’t matter to her, but secretly, she was hiding all this hurt. I rub my hands over my face when the phone beeps in my pocket. I take it out and see a text from Jacob.
Jacob: We need to talk when I get back. Now that you’re mayor, there are a couple of things you need to be aware of.
I put my head back, wondering what the fuck else is going on. I used to watch my father and think that this job was easy. Sure, he had to keep the people happy, but every time I saw him, he looked calmed and collected. Maybe I bit off too much. I hear the water stop, and then the door opens and she comes out. “I’ll be ready in about ten,” she says, walking to her closet.
“I’m going to make sure that someone is coming to board up the windows,” I say, and she just nods. I walk out into the hot humid air and grab my phone when I see one of Savannah’s neighbors outside watering his flowers. I walk over, and when he turns his head, I see him with his sunglasses and hat on, hose in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth. “Good afternoon, Harold. How are you doing today?”
He takes the cigar out of his mouth and smiles at me and nods. “Mr. Mayor.”
“There was some vandalism at Savannah’s house, and I was wondering if you saw anything,” I ask, and he turns to look at his flowers. “Someone threw a couple of bricks through her window.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you date all these men.” His words make my shoulders snap into place. “Could be anyone.”
“Did you see anything?” I ask. His front door squeaks open, and I see his wife coming out, wiping her hands on her apron. “Afternoon, Shirley.”
“Afternoon.” She smiles. “Would you like some tea?” she asks. I smile at her and shake my head.
“I was just asking Harold if he saw anything out of the ordinary today?” I ask, and she just looks at me. “Someone threw a brick through Savannah’s windows.”
“We didn’t see anything,” she says. “Maybe if she wasn’t so free with herself, these things wouldn’t happen. She has a child, and it’s not
healthy to parade all these men in front of him. Different car in her driveway every other week. It’s no wonder that this happened to her.” My stomach sinks, and I have to walk away before I say something rude. “If you ask me, Jacob should just take her child away and be done with it. She is more and more like her mother.”
“Shirley,” Harold says, and she just shrugs.
“We both know that no men are paraded in front of Ethan,” I say, making both of them look at me. “We also both know that the only people who come over to her house with Ethan there is Jacob and me.” I don’t give them a chance to say anything. “You have a daughter. You wouldn’t want anyone to—”
“We raised our daughter better than that,” Shirley cuts me off. “Now if that is all, I’ll get back to my baking. You have a wonderful day, Mr. Mayor.” She turns and walks back into the house. Harold puts his cigar back into his mouth, and I know this conversation is over. I turn and walk back to Savannah’s house, and the whole time my blood boils. I make it up one step, and the door opens, and she comes out with a small bag in her hand.
“What were you doing over there?” She looks at me and then over at Harold.
“I was asking them if they saw anything,” I say, and she laughs.
“Last week, Shirley accused me of ruining the ozone layer with my truck.” She shakes her head, walking down the steps. “The whole ozone layer is my fault because I have a truck.” She stops in front of me. “Forget about the fact that they have a nineteen seventy Cadillac that sucks more gas than my truck.”
“I didn’t know …” I start to say, my voice low. “How much you put up with.”
Southern Storm Page 6
