by Gold, Kristi
Savannah stood, rounded the table and hugged Rachel. “I’m so thrilled for the two of you.”
In the meantime, Chase pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty to Sam. “You win.”
Matt didn’t look too pleased. “You two were betting on my wife?”
Sam leaned back and grinned. “Yep. Chase didn’t think you had it in you after thirteen years of marriage.”
Chase chuckled. “Hell, I didn’t think anyone had sex after thirteen years of marriage.”
Once again, the group joined together in laughter, including Savannah. Sam had forgotten how much he liked her laugh. He’d always been able to make her laugh, even during some fairly rocky times. He’d also been good at making her cry, like he had that day in the diner. Right or wrong, at the time he’d figured she’d deserved it. He’d wanted her to feel as bad as he had, punish her for leaving him behind. But the past was long since dead and buried and didn’t deserve a resurrection. Once he left this hellhole, and Savannah, he swore not to give it—or her—a second thought.
After the food arrived, Sam tried to focus on the conversation but found himself watching Savannah eat her measly salad. He’d taught her to kiss, and she’d taken to his instructions pretty damn well. She’d been a willing student, even if she had made him work for the ultimate reward for almost two years. And if he didn’t keep his mind on the present and his eyes to himself, he could forget using a poker face to hide his fascination with her mouth, especially if she caught him with his guard down.
But as the talk once more turned to old times, Savannah seemed more relaxed around Sam, so much so she started to lean toward him whenever he tried to speak above the din. And when no one was paying him any mind, he’d inch his chair away from her. If he moved clear across the room, that wouldn’t be far enough away. He’d still know she was there, and he’d still be tempted to return to the past even if he’d sworn not to go there.
During a lull in the conversation, Chase slid out of his seat and stood. “Anyone up for a game of pool?”
Sam pushed away from the table so fast he almost knocked over the stool. “I’m in.”
“Count me in, too,” Matt said. “As long as you concentrate on the game, Reed, and not the kind that involves finding a willing woman while pretending to play pool.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” Chase leaned down and draped his arm over Savannah’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to be willing, would you, sweetheart?”
She removed his arm, much to Sam’s satisfaction, even if he shouldn’t care what the hell she did and who she did it with. “Not on your life, Chase,” she said. “That would be like kissing my brother.”
Chase grinned. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
Matt came to his feet and said, “While we’re gone, you two girls can talk about us all you want.”
Sam had no doubt he’d be the prime topic of discussion, especially if Savannah had a mind to rake him over the coals with Rachel for his less-than-friendly attitude.
Once they reached the tables, Sam grabbed a cue from the wall holder and turned to discover that the couple currently playing pool didn’t appear to be in a hurry to complete their game. When they kept kissing and touching each other, he almost suggested they give up and take it into the parking lot.
Matt came to his side and said, “You and Savannah looked kind of cozy back there at the table.”
He shouldn’t be surprised by the comment. To any casual observer, they might have looked “cozy.”
“Your imagination’s out of control, Boyd.”
Chase joined them to add his two cents. “I don’t know, Mac. Are you sure you’re not hankerin’ to take a little trip back in time with Savannah?”
Sam battled the images the comment created and the urge to curse his friends. “You two don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
Fortunately, the couple had finally cut out, providing a diversion. “Looks like it’s our turn,” he said.
While Matt gathered the pool balls, Chase leaned back against the table and regarded Sam. “Twenty bucks says you and Savannah will end up in bed together before the week’s over.”
Sam didn’t like the bet or the bedroom images running through his mind. “Go to hell, Reed.”
Matt offered his hand to Chase. “I say three days.”
“You’re on,” Chase said as they sealed the wager with a shake.
When they both looked at Sam expectantly, he picked up a cue and took his first shot, missing the pocket by a mile. “No good ever comes from repeating history,” he muttered as he straightened. “You can both make a hundred bets and neither of you are going to win.” If he considered what they were suggesting, he’d also be in line to lose.
“You never know,” Matt said. “Second chances don’t happen too often, bud. Maybe you and Savannah just might realize what you’ve both been missing.”
Sam stepped aside for Chase to take his turn, all the while thinking Matt could be on to something. He had no intention of getting tangled up with Savannah, between the sheets or otherwise, even temporarily. No way in hell would he put aside all the emotion for sex, just to get soul-punched by her again. But he wasn’t above letting her know exactly what she’d been missing.
No real risk involved, just a little revenge.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAVANNAH LEANED OVER TO Rachel and practically shouted, “Kitty with tail caught in the radiator.”
“Rooster on crack,” Rachel replied with a sneer.
For the past hour, they’d been playing this game when each wannabe singer took to the stage. They’d laughed long and often, but the amusement had begun to fade. Savannah wasn’t sure how much more of the bad music she could stand or how long her voice would hold from trying to converse with Rachel. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear the karaoke would end anytime soon, or that the guys were even close to finishing their pool game. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Being seated next to Sam had been disconcerting, especially when anyone made an offhanded comment about their former relationship. Correction. Their former sex life. She’d tried to turn a deaf ear, but the images had bled through despite her resistance.
As the crowd grew more boisterous, Rachel grew more tired by the minute, apparent by her yawning. Savannah wouldn’t be surprised if her friend nodded off right where she sat. At least the screeching woman had ended her questionable performance, putting their ears temporarily out of their misery while the band took a five-minute break before resuming their open-mike sessions.
Rachel checked her watch and frowned. “Ten more minutes and I’m going to drag my husband out of here so we can go. Unless you want to stay longer. But then, I’m sure Sam would be glad to give you a ride in every way possible.” She topped off the comment with a grin.
“No, thanks,” Savannah said with conviction, even though the innuendo did produce a few inadvisable thoughts. “Taking me home is the last thing on Sam’s mind.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Come on, Savannah. I’ve seen the way he looks at you even though he’s trying to hide it. And you’ve been looking at him the same way, too, when you don’t think anyone’s paying attention. But I’ve noticed.”
Savannah frowned at her friend’s conjecture. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve barely said two words to each other tonight.”
Rachel smiled. “So what? I still remember a time when the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”
“Those days have long since passed,” Savannah said, maybe a little too adamantly. “We’re adults now, not lustful kids.”
“Savannah, you’re in complete denial if you think that given the opportunity, the two of you wouldn’t jump at reliving that past. Time doesn’t always alter chemistry between former lovers. Take me and Matt, for instance. I still get those nice little chills every time he gives me that look.”
That might be the case, but Rachel and Matt had destiny on their side. She and Sam didn’t. “Speaking
of Matt, how’s he handling the whole fatherhood thing?”
Rachel leaned back and sighed. “He’s still a little shell-shocked, but he’s getting used to the idea.”
She tried to hide her surprise. “This wasn’t a planned pregnancy?”
Rachel’s gaze slid away. “Not exactly. We’ve been talking about having a baby for ages but the time never seemed right. First, we had college and then we had to build the practice and then came the house. I decided if we didn’t just take the plunge, we’d both be too old and tired by the time Matt finally realized it was the right time.”
She couldn’t quite get past Rachel’s assertion that she’d decided to get pregnant, which led Savannah to wonder if Rachel hadn’t taken matters into her own hands. Regardless, it wasn’t her business to know all the particulars, and she couldn’t fathom her friend doing anything even remotely deceptive, especially when it came to her marriage.
As soon as the rowdy applause died down, the band’s lead singer walked up to the microphone, hopefully to spare them more audible torture.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We’ve got someone in the house who can sing the hell out of a song. So let’s see if we can encourage him to come up here and serenade us.”
Finally, Savannah thought, someone who might not make her want to stuff paper napkins in her ears. But she nearly choked on the last sip of wine when the lead man called, “Sam McBriar, where the hell are you?”
Regardless of what Matt had said earlier about Sam sitting in with the band, she couldn’t quite believe that he’d actually perform in front of such a large crowd. After they’d met, a whole year had passed before she’d discovered he could sing, and only because she’d stumbled upon him one afternoon in his barn playing his guitar. Little by little, he’d become more comfortable with her after some gentle coaxing. She’d been so taken by his talent back then. All his talents, for that matter, and he’d had many…?.
“Do you think he’ll actually do it?” Rachel asked after she stopped clapping as fervently as the rest of the masses.
“I have no idea.” And she didn’t. However, so far, no Sam.
Just when Savannah assumed he wasn’t going to answer the call, Sam appeared on stage. The patrons grew even louder when a band member handed him a guitar as he moved the barstool near the microphone.
Savannah was torn between disbelief and eagerness—until he said, “This is a song for someone special.”
If he sang their song, she’d leave. Or at the very least, escape to the ladies’ room, as if she could really run from the reminiscences that particular tune evoked. As if she would ever forget those sultry Mississippi nights when Sam would sing softly while she sat on the porch swing, absolutely smitten.
Yet as Sam played the first few chords, Savannah realized she’d been wrong in her assumption, but she did recognize the tune. Anyone who’d cut their teeth on country music would know the musical story about a rodeo cowboy traveling to the Texas Panhandle in hopes of arriving by morning. An extremely popular song.
Her dad’s favorite song.
Every time it played on the radio, he’d turn to her and say, “Now, that’s good country music, Savannah.”
Surely Sam’s choice was a coincidence, not calculated. She’d never mentioned her father’s fondness for the number because at the time it had seemed insignificant.
Regardless, Sam sang it well. Very well. His baritone was as deep as he was tall and he hit each note with clarity as his strong hands steadily strummed the guitar. She scanned the crowd to find several women, both old and young, looking as if they might swoon. Who wouldn’t be completely reeled in, not only by his voice but also by his looks? The black T-shirt he wore conformed to his lean body, enhancing the broadness of his chest and the noticeable bulk of his arms. And those jeans looked as if they were tailor-made to accommodate his long legs. He categorically fit the bill as a gorgeous country crooner.
In that moment, he became the boy again—the one that she’d practically worshipped. She became the gullible girl who would have given him anything. She had—heart and soul—and her complete trust, before he’d proved to be untrustworthy. She needed to keep that in mind, yet she couldn’t deny he could still mesmerize her with his voice, just as he had years before.
After he finished, Sam leaned into the microphone and quietly said, “I hope you enjoyed it, Floyd,” shattering Savannah’s theory that the whole thing had been a fluke. Somehow, someway, he’d known about her dad’s love of the legendary song.
Savannah decided then and there to set aside their differences and thank Sam for his thoughtfulness. Apparently she would have to postpone voicing her gratitude since he’d been sidetracked by a rather endowed waitress wearing painted-on jeans and a cut-down-to-there, tight white top.
When the young woman tucked a piece of paper into Sam’s front pocket, Savannah inherently knew what it contained—a phone number. She was suddenly caught up in a sudden surge of jealousy when Sam leaned over and whispered something in the waitress’s ear.
She found it absolutely absurd that she would resent the flirtation so much. Sam was free to do whatever or whomever he pleased. They hadn’t come there together. They weren’t a couple. She had no reason whatsoever to envision pulling every strand of shiny brown hair out of the harlot’s head…?.
“Savannah?”
She looked up to find Rachel watching her with concern. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” A patent falsehood. She wasn’t fine at all. She was ticked off at Sam for being attentive to another woman. Mad at herself for feeling as if she had a right to be angry. “Why do you ask?”
“You look a little distracted.”
“I’m just running out of steam.” Another untruth. She was fuming like a boiler.
Rachel nodded toward Matt, who stood nearby sporting an impatient look. “As soon as I dance with my husband, we’ll go.”
“Take your time.”
Once Rachel and Matt left the vicinity, Savannah closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. How could she be so foolish that she couldn’t control those latent feelings for Sam? She’d moved on with her life. Nothing he did or said should make a difference now.
She decided to thank him later and at the moment, avoid him completely. Not an issue. He’d probably left with the waitress, even if they’d only made it as far as the parking lot. More power to them. Good riddance and goodbye.
“You’re still here.”
The overtly masculine voice drifted into her ear, indicating Sam hadn’t left the building after all. Savannah could never mistake that low, sexy drawl—she’d known it intimately in the dark of night and the light of day. She stared up at him as he hovered above her, looking way too good to ignore. But ignore him she would. “Yes, I’m still here, but I’ll be leaving as soon as I pay my check.” Provided Matt and Rachel only danced one dance.
He reclaimed the stool beside her. “I settled up with one of the waitresses a few minutes ago.”
Perhaps she’d overreacted after all. Then again, probably not. He might have settled more than only the bill. “You didn’t have to take care of my tab. I’m more than able to pay my way.”
“Damn,” he grumbled. “Wish I’d known. That salad and glass of wine set me back six months. I’m not sure I’ll be able to buy my kid a pair of shoes. Good thing she doesn’t wear any when she’s with me.”
At one time Savannah would have smiled over his wry wit, another aspect of his personality she’d grown to know and once loved. But she wasn’t quite in the mood for sarcasm. Nevertheless, proper etiquette dictated he deserved some credit for his consideration and the musical tribute. “Thanks for taking care of it. And thank you for dedicating the song to my father. He would have appreciated it a lot. But how did you know it was his favorite?”
He leaned forward and rested his folded hands on the checkered tablecloth. “When he was having a bad day, I’d go see him and bring my guitar. We’d sit on the
front porch drinking your mother’s sweet tea and I’d play for him. He always wanted to hear that particular song.”
She was beginning to think Sam had been closer to her father than she had been in the past few years. “I’m sure he appreciated that gesture, too.”
“I didn’t mind and he didn’t seem to care if I hit a bad note.”
Feeling somewhat magnanimous, Savannah shifted slightly toward him so he could hear her over the band. “I can’t imagine you ever hitting a bad note. Your performance tonight was exceptional, although I admit I was surprised you actually sang in front of this many people. You were always so shy when it came to your music.”
He didn’t appear as if he appreciated her pointing that out. “Believe it or not, people do change, Savannah. I’ve learned the hard way that life doesn’t last forever, so I might as well do what I want while I still have time.”
He sounded as if he were sixty, not thirty. “Have you ever thought about singing for a living? You’re good enough.”
He shook his head. “That would take all the enjoyment out of it.”
“You don’t feel like you’ve given up on a dream?”
His features turned stony. “Running the farm has always been my dream. It might seem simple to you, but that’s the way it is. Some people don’t need fame and fortune. Others do.”
A dig at her ambition if Savannah had ever heard one.
They both fell silent, the remnants of resentment hanging between them. Sam evidently still took exception to her decision to build her future out of state, and she still took exception to his disapproval of that decision.
No doubt they would remain at an impasse for the rest of their lives. Again, it shouldn’t matter, but sadly on some level it did.
Savannah turned her attention to the once-packed floor, where the masses had definitely thinned out. Rachel and Matt danced by, oblivious to everything but each other. Their devotion brought about Savannah’s wistful sigh. “I wonder how they do it.”
