by Lori Wilde
That didn’t seem possible.
“I bet none of the bad guys are scared of Deputy Evans,” she teased. “You may look all big and tough, but you’re soft as taffy on the inside, aren’t you?”
“Only you would think so.” Or dare say it. But that reminded him. “Did you call your folks and let them know you’re okay? I don’t want any missing-person reports coming into the station.”
“I texted them. Then I turned off my phone,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I don’t think I’m up to a conversation with them.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Hank? Do you . . . do you think I’m a coward, running away like I did? Because I’m starting to feel really bad about it.” The defeat in her voice tore at him. Guilt was the real reason she couldn’t sleep, and that was something he was all too familiar with.
Rolling to his feet, he walked to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. “Are you dressed?”
She turned her head to look in his direction, her outline faint in the darkened room. “Of course I’m dressed. Why wouldn’t I be dressed?”
He ignored that and headed for the bed. He crawled in beside her, nudging her over a couple of inches. When he got settled, he wrapped one arm around her back and rolled her into his side so her stomach was pressed into his hip. “You’re not a coward. I don’t want you thinking that. It took guts to get away before you made a mistake.”
“Was it a mistake?” Curling her hand into his shirt, she wiggled around until she settled into him, her head on his shoulder. “Because it feels like I’ve been making mistakes all day. Who knows which one was the mistake and which one was right.”
“Marrying someone you don’t love is the mistake.” She remained quiet, and he jostled her. “Right?”
“Right.”
But she didn’t sound sure. Was she regretting not being Mrs. Chance Worthington? “Guilt is a useless emotion. Don’t waste your time on it,” he said gruffly. “Now go to sleep.”
“What do you feel guilty about?” Ignoring his requests seemed to be her favorite pastime.
He didn’t answer her. Not at first. It wasn’t something he talked about, not even with his brother. But lying there in the dark, knowing Savannah wouldn’t be passing any judgment, loosened his lips.
“I got in a fight with my dad when I was eighteen. Called him on his pill use. How he was letting the family down. Told him to get his crap together.” He could remember that fight like it was yesterday. He’d been in a couple of skirmishes in the Army, and those had faded to a blur of dust and gunfire. But not that day with his old man. “Punches were thrown. He kicked me out, but I would have walked even if he hadn’t. We talked a little bit after that on the phone, but I didn’t go home again until his funeral.”
He swallowed past the thickness in his throat. Shame still ate at him. “I was angry, but I was also embarrassed by what I did. And because of that, I lost a lot of time with my family. Guilt kept me away, and I lost those last couple of years with my dad.”
“But you’re home now.” Pressing her hand to his chest, she snuggled closer. “Maybe we should both take your advice. Stop feeling guilty.”
He covered her hand with his own, holding her palm over his heart. “Maybe.” It was easily said. Much harder to do. He cleared his throat. “Now go to sleep.”
For once, she did what he said. With a breathy little sigh, she pressed the length of her body against his side and drifted into sleep. Her breathing evened out, and her muscles relaxed into the bed.
Hank stared at the ceiling. He was in bed with another man’s fiancée. She still wore Worthington’s big-ass diamond on her finger, something that hadn’t escaped his notice. He was making another mistake. Something else he should feel guilt over.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he held her close and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Something sweet-smelling wafted under her nose. Savannah sniffed, the soft cocoon of sleep being dragged from her. She sniffed again, and something shot up her nose. She woke on a sneeze.
Hank laughed. He sat on the edge of the bed, a white box in one hand and a jelly donut in the other. “You inhaled some powdered sugar. Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
“If one of those is for me, all is forgiven.” She rubbed her eyes and looked at the pastry box. From its size, there should be at least six donuts in there. Give or take one. What a wonderful start to the day.
“You can have as many as you want. I didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got a variety.” He showed her the assortment, a beautiful mosaic of pink and white icing and chocolate ganache.
She started with the jelly donut. “Thanks,” she said around the bite in her mouth.
“Time to get up, sleepyhead.” Hank stood and walked out of the bedroom.
She trailed behind him to the kitchen, already deciding which pastry would be next on the menu. The chocolate old-fashioned. Definitely.
“My shift starts in a couple of hours, so I have to get going soon.” Pulling two small bottles of orange juice from a bag, he handed her one and twisted the top off of his own. “I didn’t want to walk out while you were asleep.”
“Considerate of you. Your girlfriends must appreciate it.” The fluffy dough clogged in her throat. Crap. She hadn’t considered the idea of him having a girlfriend. But why wouldn’t he? There weren’t that many men with thick, pettable hair and deep, soulful eyes, who had muscles like a wide receiver, and who were wandering around single. Women were smart. They snapped men like Hank up quickly.
She tried to sound casual. “Are you dating someone?” She pulled the chocolate old-fashioned into four sections, concentrating on making them evenly sized.
“Not at the moment.” He took a large sip of OJ, his throat rippling as he swallowed. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave her a heated look. “I haven’t been back in Serendipity that long, and the options are limited.”
“The joy of living in a small town.” Although the number of single women had just increased by one as of yesterday. She nibbled on her donut. Probably best not to mention that. Or throw herself at him. It wouldn’t be smart. Besides, her attraction to him could all come down to the fact that he’d plied her with amazing food. She couldn’t underestimate the power of grease and sugar on her hormones.
Stepping around her, Hank strode to the sofa in the living room. He picked up a pillow that had fallen to the floor and tossed it back on the cushions.
Savannah wiped her hands on her leggings. Plucking up the pillow, she fluffed it before arranging it neatly in the corner of the sofa.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she picked up the other pillow, gave it the same treatment before replacing it in the opposite corner.
“Trying to make things look nice. Appealing to a buyer.” She cocked her head. The whole couch looked a little flatter after Hank had spent half the night on it. She knelt on the central cushion, bounced up and down. “The staging is important.”
He groaned, and Savannah looked over her shoulder. His gaze was planted on her butt, his lips drawn into a tight line.
Her bouncing wound down. “I’m trying to fluff the cushions.” Her cheeks heated.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
“I don’t think it’s working.” She gripped the back of the couch, her fingers wanting nothing more than to grab the waistband of his jeans and tug him into her. Stupid fingers. “Maybe if you got down here, too?” And there went her stupid mouth. She’d just left one man. She shouldn’t be trying to get close to another.
But when he set one knee on the sofa next to her, her heart leapt into her throat, and she didn’t care if it was stupid. She wanted Hank Evans.
The soft cotton of his T-shirt brushed against her bare arm.
Her head went fuzzy.
He covered one of her hands with his own, a callous on his palm scraping across her skin.
Her mouth went bone-dry.
Hank dropped his glance to her mouth. Cupping her face, he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, then raised his thumb to his own mouth. He stuck the tip of his thumb between his lips and sucked. “You had a bit of sugar there.”
“Is it all gone?” Her voice was breathy. Husky. “Or do you need to clean me up some more?”
He dropped his head. “I have a feeling cleaning you up could become my favorite part of the day.” He brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth, the contact fleeting. She released a juddering breath. With the tip of his tongue, he licked the powdered sugar from her bottom lip, and that was it. The end of her hesitation.
Twisting, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He crashed back on the couch with a muffled oomph, with Savannah lying on top of him. She turned his tease into a real kiss, devouring his mouth with all the pent-up frustration two years of pecks on the cheek would bring a girl.
Digging his hand in her hair, Hank cupped her head, angled her face the way he wanted. His other hand drifted, skimming up and down her spine, each pass heading lower. When he reached her butt, he cupped her cheek and squeezed.
She melted over him. Good Lord, what had she been missing out on? She had been going to resign herself to fifty years in a loveless marriage when men like Hank were out there in the world? Men like Hank who could do incredible things with his mouth?
He nibbled along her bottom lip, tugged gently, and she felt it in her core.
Do incredible things with his teeth?
She’d been stark out of her mind.
Tugging her head back, Hank caught his breath. He examined her expression. “Babe. You sure you want to do this?”
The rise of his chest lifted her and drew her back down. It was like they were one body. Nodding, she chased his mouth with her own, but his grip in her hair held her back.
She tried to explain. How of course she wanted to keep kissing him. Exploring the heat between them. After years of settling for tepid dates and a comfortable, respectable relationship, she was eager to throw herself into something that sent a thrill through her blood. Made her tingle and ache. “You bought me donuts,” was what came out of her mouth.
His lips twitched. Yes, so her explanation hadn’t been very eloquent. And hadn’t made sense anywhere other than in her own mind. But she didn’t care if he thought she was weird. Just as long as he put those lips on her.
“Babe, if this is the thanks I get for a donut, I can’t wait to see what happens when I buy you a coffee cake.” He tugged her hips down against his and captured her mouth. Neither one of them heard the door swing open.
A startled gasp, a giggle, and someone sternly clearing her throat.
Savannah turned her head, saw three people standing in the doorway, and yelped. She pressed up and tried to scuttle off of Hank. Her knee pushed between Hank’s thighs, caught something delicate, and his eyes bulged.
“Sorry!” Her elbow caught him below the rib cage, and he wheezed. “Damn it!” she swore. The sofa was soft and kept sucking her back down. Giving up all pretense of grace, she rolled, landing on her back on the floor. She stared at the ceiling and prayed the intruders had been an illusion.
A pair of three-inch heels stalked into her peripheral vision beneath the coffee table. Nope. No illusion.
“Did you forget about the showing today?” A cool, professional, feminine voice asked. As if walking in on a couple making out on the sofa was an everyday occurrence. “Mr. and Mrs. Young were hoping to take a PG-rated tour of your condo.”
Hank swung his legs off the couch. “Hi, Kat.” He cleared his throat and tugged at the leg of his jeans. “Sorry, I did forget.” Grabbing Savannah’s hand, he stood, pulling her up to her feet as well. He straightened the strap to her tank top and brushed some lint off her hip.
Savannah stepped back, her face as hot as a ghost pepper. “This is your real estate agent?”
The woman stuck out her hand, and Savannah took the solid grip. “Katerina Gonzalez with Mission Realty. How do you do?”
Savannah took in the woman’s slim pencil skirt and fitted jacket. The neat chignon of dark hair. The pleasant smile on her nude-painted lips. And realized she hadn’t yet brushed her own hair. Or changed her clothes since yesterday morning.
She forced a smile. “Savannah Loving with Embarrassed to Death, Inc. And I’ve been better.”
“I don’t know,” the woman by the door said. Mrs. Young, Savannah presumed. “That looked like the start to a good day to me.”
The real estate agent turned to her clients. “I apologize for the confusion. The condo was supposed to be vacant. But I think even with the floorshow you should still be able to see the potential of the space.” She held out a hand. “Shall we start with the bedroom?”
The trio drifted down the hall, Kat pointing out features as they went.
Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. I’d forgotten she was showing the place this weekend.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Stalking to the kitchen, Savannah cleaned up their breakfast mess and started gathering all the supplies she’d bought into bags. “I should get out of here anyway.”
“You heading back home?” Hank poked into the donut box, came out with a pink-iced one covered in nuts.
Savannah considered. She needed to face the music sometime. Get her apologies out of the way. The idea filled her stomach with knots. After the yelling, after the looks of disappointment, she knew her parents would try to convince her she’d only suffered from cold feet. That the wedding should go on. That was an argument she wasn’t prepared to have.
“I think I’ll stick around Dallas for another couple of days. Maybe go to some museums and the botanical garden.” It had been ages since she’d played the tourist. If she pretended she was on vacation, she could put off the unpleasant realities a little bit longer. “Do you know of any hotels around here that don’t cost an arm and a leg?”
“Why not stay here?”
“Because your friend is showing the place.” She shook her head. “I can’t stick around.”
He shrugged. “So go out for a couple of hours. See a movie. Kat will be done by this evening and won’t be showing the place again until next weekend.”
“I do have some shopping I need to do.” New clothes to wear. A towel to take a shower. She chewed on her lip, until Hank’s gaze dropped to her mouth and he took a step toward her.
Settling his hands on her hips, he pulled her close. The button fly of his jeans rubbed against her belly, and heat settled low. “When you go shopping, buy something nice for tonight. I want to take you out.”
She gripped his biceps. “You do? Don’t you have to work?”
“After my shift. I can get here around eight.” Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he dipped his head. “It seems like you’ve been locked up in everyone’s expectations for too long. It’s time you had some good, old-fashioned fun. And I want to be the man to show it to you. Does eight work?”
The logistics worked fine. Gave her plenty of time to get ready after the real estate agent left. But did the date itself work for her? Her body said hell yes. Her heart gave the idea a thumbs up. Her brain told her she was a dumb ass.
“That sounds great.” One of these days her brain would have to win an argument. Apparently, it wasn’t today.
Brushing his lips against hers, he dug his fingers into her skin, as if he were afraid she’d disappear. With a deep breath, he stepped back and grabbed a second donut. “See you later.” Striding from the kitchen, he shouted, “Leaving now, Kat. Lock up when you’re done.”
The front door shut behind him as Kat and the Youngs strolled out of the back rooms.
Savannah shifted from one bare foot to another. “I’m just going to head out now, too.” Darting to the bedroom, she found her flip-flops and slid them on. She grabbed Hank’s sweatshirt and wrapped it around her waist. The group was
in the kitchen as she sidled out.
Remembering her manners, she popped her head in. “It was nice meeting you. Sorry about the mess and, well, just sorry.”
“No worries.” Kat jotted down a note on her clipboard, then looked up with a bright smile. “It was Hank who forgot, not you. Besides, it gave the Youngs some free entertainment.” She winked at the couple.
Kat had to be reasonable, too. Poised, professional, sensible, all qualities that Savannah felt herself lacking at the moment.
With a nod good-bye, Savannah hightailed it out of there. The morning was still cool, the air holding just a hint of moisture. It was going to be another beautiful day. And she could spend it however she wanted.
Bouncing down the steps, she headed for the Ducati with a spring in her step. A whole day in which she could be herself, do whatever she wanted.
And a night with Hank to get ready for.
Revving the engine, she put the bike into gear and shot out of her spot.
Yes, today was promising to be one fine day.
Chapter Five
Hank stepped out of his Jeep and smoothed his hand down the front of his white button-down shirt. His palms were damp, and he shook his head in disgust. It was an absurd reaction for a thirty-year-old man picking up a woman for their first date. Reaching into the Jeep, he pulled out the bouquet of bluebonnets he’d picked along the highway. Thirty-year-olds typically didn’t stop along the road to pick wildflowers, either, but something about Savannah brought out the fool in him.
He trotted up to his condo and opened the door. Pausing, he knocked on the open door and called in. “Savannah? If you have any more Chinese food in there, stand down. It’s only me.”
“Very funny,” she called from the back. She darted past the open bedroom door, and Hank caught the swish of a red skirt and a wild mess of wavy blond hair. “I’ll be ready in a second.”
Hank settled into the couch, prepared for a long wait. Stretching his arm along the back, he remembered the action the couch had seen that morning and smiled. Maybe tonight it would see even more.
