The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Gold, Kristi

  “Easy. They hang on to each other, put one foot in front of the other and walk around in circles.”

  She glanced at Sam and ran head-on into his cynical half smile. “I meant how can they still be so committed to each other after all these years?”

  “Just lucky, I guess,” he said. “And I imagine they work at it.”

  Yet it had always seemed to come so easily for Rachel and Matt. Savannah couldn’t recall witnessing the slightest argument between them in all the time she’d known them. “I suppose you’re right.”

  When Sam raked the chair back and stood, Savannah asked, “Where are you going?” as if she really cared.

  “Onto the floor.”

  Savannah swallowed hard. “You mean to dance?”

  He looked altogether put out. “Yeah, since no one’s recruiting me to sprinkle sawdust.”

  That seemed much safer than polishing his belt buckle. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Savannah’s refusal was lost on Sam, who’d already made his way to another table and another partner, proving he hadn’t intended to ask her. Instead, he’d chosen a fresh-faced blonde who had to be at least twenty-one but she’d wager not much older. Without hesitation, the young woman allowed Sam to lead her onto the floor while the band played a romantic ballad designed with lovers in mind.

  Savannah watched the blonde stare at Sam with blatant adoration before she rested her head against his shoulder. She remained transfixed when Sam held the young woman’s hand against his heart as he moved in time with the music. She tried to tear her gaze away, but couldn’t. She tried to ignore another nip of jealousy, repulsed that she would give in to those absurd emotions. Yet she couldn’t help recalling a time when she’d been Sam’s only partner. When he’d taught her how to dance.

  After the couple moved almost directly in front of the table, Savannah decided she’d seen quite enough. If Sam gave her even a momentary glance, she’d send him a look that could very well give away her shaky emotional state.

  Savannah grabbed her purse and headed for the restroom, a refuge where she could gather her wits and touch up her makeup. She muttered a few unflattering comments directed at Sam and wished she could snap off her tongue when a spiral-curled redhead stepped out of one stall.

  Savannah smiled briefly and hoped to leave it at that. No such luck, she thought when the girl grinned and said, “Hi, I’m Junie,” and without taking a breath added, “Is Sam McBriar your boyfriend?”

  When she missed her lips with the gloss she’d been applying, Savannah inspected her teeth for coral smudges. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Then he’s a friend?”

  She was in no mood for twenty questions. “He’s an acquaintance. Why?”

  “Because my friend Bethany, she’s the one dancing with him, and if he was your boyfriend, I just wanted you to know they’re not hooking up or anything. Her dad works for him. Besides, he’s too old for her anyway.”

  Savannah tucked the gloss away in her bag and gave the persistent pixie her full attention. “How old are you?”

  Junie lifted her chin, looking somewhat indignant that Savannah would dare ask, a sure sign she was probably about to lie. “Twenty-one. How old are you?”

  “Older than twenty-one.”

  With that, Savannah grabbed her purse and marched out of the bathroom, thankful to be free of the inquisition, yet reluctant to return to her seat to witness Sam and Bethany dancing, even if they didn’t intend to “hook up.” But if Junie knew Sam the way Savannah did, anything was possible.

  At least maybe by now Rachel and Matt were ready to leave. Yet when she reached the table, she found only five empty chairs and a note jotted down on a napkin, tucked beneath the fake-crystal salt shaker.

  We’re calling it a night. I’m sure Sam won’t mind giving you a ride (wink, wink) since he’s going your way… Hugs and kisses…

  Savannah recognized Rachel’s handwriting long before she’d read the signature, as well as a ploy to throw two former lovers together. She perused the dance floor in search of Sam, but he’d clearly disappeared. Maybe Blonde Bethany or the buxom waitress had already claimed him for a ride home and a nighttime of fast fun. Now what?

  Savannah dropped onto the stool and began shredding the napkin while she weighed her options. She could seek out Chase and request a ride, but when she looked toward the back of the bar, she noticed he seemed preoccupied with some brunette. She could call a cab. Oh, wait. This was Placid, not Chicago. No cab company. She could go by foot, but walking home six miles in the dark didn’t seem advisable, and that’s if she could actually find her way. Surely she could locate some charitable, familiar soul and beg.

  “Let’s go.”

  Apparently she’d been wrong about Sam making a quick exit. “Go where?”

  “I’m giving you a ride home.”

  She slid off the stool and faced him. “Then you knew about this little note?” she asked as she gestured toward what was left of the napkin.

  He afforded the paper pile a fleeting look before bringing his attention back to her. “I ran into Matt right when they were leaving. He asked if I’d take you home since Rachel wasn’t feeling well. I said okay, so you’re stuck with me.”

  Lovely. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but only because I don’t have a choice.”

  He released a low, skeptical laugh. “I don’t know about that. You could probably get a ride with any of the guys at the bar. They’ve been staring you down all night.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” And she hadn’t because Sam had earned most of her consideration for the past few hours.

  He inclined his head slightly. “So what’s it going to be? The devil you know, or the devil you don’t?”

  Savannah almost said “Neither,” but thought better of it. She’d rather go home with Sam than with a stranger. Ride to her home with Sam.

  She picked up her purse, threw the strap over her shoulder and said, “Just keep your horns and pitchfork to yourself.”

  “You used to like my pitchfork.”

  Some things never changed. “Shut up or I’ll reconsider and walk home.”

  Without further commentary, she started toward the door to a chorus of whistles and catcalls from the aforementioned bar dwellers. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Sam had paid them to prove his point.

  After she pushed her way through the exit and walked into the welcome night air, Sam trailed behind her as she scanned the rutted parking lot—and immediately located his truck. Not the shiny black one she’d seen at the diner, but the red single-cab 1968 Chevy that he’d driven in high school. “Manny,” short for Manly Truck.

  Savannah turned around and paused in her tracks. “You still have Manny?”

  He walked past her and opened the passenger door that squeaked like a rusty gate. “Yeah,” he said. “If you take good care of something, it can last a lifetime.”

  She immediately thought of Rachel and Matt’s marriage. “You’re right.”

  “Man, I’m actually right about something? It’s a miracle.” His tone was dry and somewhat accusatory.

  “Yes, it is a miracle,” she said as she climbed onto the black cloth seat.

  While Sam rounded the truck to the driver’s side, Savannah studied the familiar surroundings as a host of memories tried to force their way into her overly tired mind. How many times had she sat in this truck snuggled up next to Sam? Many more than she could count. But tonight she would remain on her side of the cab, not parked in the center next to a man who’d probably prefer she ride in the truck bed.

  Sam slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, jarring Savannah out of her momentary stupor. He switched on the ignition, turned to her and said, “You can stop choking the door handle. I’m not going to jump you.”

  Irked by his observation, Savannah rested her hands in her lap. And just when she thought she could relax, Sam draped his arm over the seat as he backed out of the parking spot, his fingertips practica
lly brushing her shoulder. She immediately recalled the day his dad had given him this truck. She remembered how proud he’d been when he’d come to pick her up to show off the gift. Remembered the times they’d sat in the cab while she’d cried on his shoulder after arguing with her mom. Remembered other times when they hadn’t talked at all.

  She mentally stopped short, wondering how on earth she’d climbed on board that train of thought. Evidently reason had briefly left her, thanks to a patently tempting man. A man with whom she’d shared a bittersweet history.

  After Sam pulled out of the lot and onto the rural road, Savannah rolled down the window, allowing the breeze to blow across her face. The smell of fresh-cut hay and damp air thrust her memories back into overdrive. She’d forgotten how dark the nights could be in the country, how bright the stars. Wishing stars that shot across the sky in plain sight, only most of her wishes failed to come true, including her wish that she and Sam would have a future together. Marriage and children together, like Matt and Rachel. She’d been a child back then, with a child’s view of the perfect life. Now she was grown, and she’d come to learn that some things simply weren’t meant to be, exactly what Sam had said earlier that day.

  They didn’t speak for the next few miles, the low hum of the engine the only sound breaking through the quiet until Sam asked, “Do you remember what’s around the next bend in the road?”

  “What’s left of the old drive-in,” she muttered without much thought.

  “Beyond that.”

  She knew where he could be heading, yet she wasn’t sure why. She did know she didn’t dare play along. “My house.”

  “The road to Potter’s Pond.”

  The name that had been bandied about during dinner. The private piece of land where the town’s youth went to park. A rite of passage, some would say. The place where kids had been “necking for nearly a century,” according to Sam’s dad, although she always thought that to be an embellishment.

  “We spent some pretty hot nights there,” he said when she didn’t bother to respond.

  Very true, and very unwise to discuss it in detail. Feigning ignorance would be her best course. “Summers are always hot in Mississippi.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  Oh, no, no, no…. She wasn’t going there. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. I’m not going to talk about it.”

  “Calm down. I was just seeing if you remembered.”

  Savannah didn’t buy his innocent act one bit. She also couldn’t forget the sins of her youth, though heaven knew she’d tried. “I really don’t see the point in remembering a time when we were both incredibly ignorant.”

  “Ignorant or not, we couldn’t get enough of each other.”

  And she couldn’t get out of the conversation fast enough. “Like I said, we were ignorant. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Another brief span of silence passed, steeped in tension and turned-back time while they approached the well-worn path that had led to Savannah’s teenage downfall.

  “I wonder if the place still looks the same,” Sam said when the rusty rail fence surrounding the pond came into view.

  “I’m sure it’s exactly the same since not a lot changes around here.” That included Sam, who’d always been fond of teasing her without mercy. That seemed to be his goal tonight—doing his best to shake her up with the unwelcome nostalgia. Unfortunately, that ploy was beginning to work. She started to feel as if each breath she drew took great effort, exactly as it had been on those long-ago nights when she’d been high on anticipation and low on wisdom.

  He sent her a fast glance and a somewhat sinister— albeit sexy—smile. “If Manny could talk, he’d have more than a few stories to tell.”

  “Could you just keep your eyes on the road and your mind on the present?”

  And your foot on the accelerator, she wanted to say when he appeared to slow down. She’d be surprised if Manny was chugging along above ten miles per hour while her heart had to be going at least a hundred.

  One more minute and they would be at the gravel drive. One more minute and he could choose to make a turn that would lead them right down memory lane and straight into trouble. Just when Savannah prepared to protest loudly, Sam sped up and passed by the turnoff.

  Savannah mentally compiled a laundry list of insults directed at him as she released the breath she’d been holding and unclenched her fists. Obviously he’d been bent on taunting her just to get a reaction from her, and she hated that she’d played right into his hands. The best way to thwart his attempts would be to not react at all, and that’s precisely what she planned to do from this point forward.

  Yet by the time they reached the farm, her legs were so weak when she climbed out of the cab, she felt as if she’d run a marathon with forty-pound weights strapped to her ankles. Adding to her angst, when she closed the door and turned around, Sam was right there, maybe a foot away.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, determined to get in the house before he could sense her discomfort and celebrate his victory.

  Sam braced a palm above her head, halting her departure. “It’s still early.”

  If she wasn’t careful, it might be too late. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  There went the old innocent act again. “Dredging up old times as if I’d be interested in taking up where we left off.”

  “Aren’t you curious?” he asked.

  “Curious about what?”

  “About how it would be between us now?”

  Unfortunately, yes. “No.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his unwavering gaze trained on hers.

  Savannah was only sure about one thing—she needed to leave now. Yet as she maintained contact with his dark, pensive blue eyes, her feet felt as if they’d been cast in cement. The sudden desire to relive the past, to satisfy that unwelcome curiosity, commandeered her common sense. An overpowering desire derived from a place she so wanted to ignore.

  When he leveled his gaze on her mouth, she knew it could be only a matter of time before she crossed a line she’d sworn to never, ever cross again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE KISSED HER. ON THE cheek. Like someone would kiss their sister.

  Savannah stared at him for a long moment, poised between disbelief and ridiculous disappointment. “What was that?”

  “Just trying to be friendly.”

  Yeah, right. “The way you looked at me a minute ago, friendship was the last thing your mind.”

  “You looked at me like I was your last meal, sweetheart.”

  He had a lot of nerve, acting as if that near-miss kiss was somehow her fault. As if this whole falling-into-the-past predicament was her fault. “Just when I decided to make the effort to get along with you while I’m here, you take advantage of the situation.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth only a whisper away from her ear. “Lady, if I was going to take advantage of you, we’d be parked underneath that old oak tree at the pond and we’d both be naked about now.”

  Savannah experienced a full-body shiver that she hoped he hadn’t noticed but most likely had. She took a step back, away from all that outrageous magnetism.

  “Don’t look so worried, Savvy,” he said. “I’m not any more interested in reliving the past than you are. But it sure was fun seeing your doe-in-the-headlights look.”

  And it sure would be fun to haul off and slap that arrogant smile off his face. “Sometimes you can be a royal jackass, Samuel McBriar.”

  He had the audacity to laugh, which prompted Savannah to ask, “Do you really find this so hilarious?” She didn’t see one iota of humor in the situation.

  “Yeah, I do. I can count on one hand the times you said a curse word.”

  She could think of one instance when she’d cursed him in a public place. “Technically speaking, a jackass is a donkey, so that doesn’t exactly meet the curse-word criteria.”

  “
Is that donkey comparison aimed at my attitude or my anatomy?”

  “Your ego.”

  “Whatever you say, Savvy.”

  She detested the dreadful nickname he’d given her in high school when she’d landed on the honor roll the first time. “Please stop calling me that. I’m not a child.”

  He streamed his gaze down her body and back up before returning his attention on her face. “Nope. You’re all grown up.”

  In view of her rather heated reaction, he might as well have used his hands instead of his eyes. “Go home, Sam.”

  “Not a problem, Savvy.” And just like that, he rounded the truck to leave. No argument. No protest. No real kiss good-night, which was a blessing in disguise.

  As soon as Savannah had enough wherewithal to move, she started toward the house, with each step deriding herself for almost falling into his trap. After all her talk of maturity, she was still behaving like that infatuated girl of long ago.

  And he became the rebel again when he shot out of the drive, stirring up dust the way he used to do after they’d had some silly, insignificant argument. She managed to make it to the porch in time to watch his tail-lights fade in the distance. Regrettably, she couldn’t say the same for her lack of composure.

  Savannah dropped down on the glider and attempted to analyze exactly what kind of game Sam was playing and why. She did know she would be a fool to play along. But isn’t that exactly what she’d done? And isn’t that exactly what Sam had hoped she would do?

  Right then she was too tired to scrutinize her actions or his motives. She needed to get some sleep, or at least try.

  Once in the foyer, Savannah glanced to her left to discover her mother seated in her favorite chair in the living room, dressed in a faded pink housecoat, a book resting facedown in her lap while she sported a typically stern demeanor.

  She instinctively wanted to ignore Ruth and run to her room, but as she’d previously mentioned to Sam, she wasn’t a child any longer. “Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked as she stepped inside the parlor.

  Ruth came to her feet slowly, reminding Savannah that her mother’s advancing age had begun to take its toll. “I waited up so I could tell you that the attorney from Jackson will be by to go over your father’s will tomorrow afternoon.”