"You don't have to spend your free night here, taking care of me."
"Actually, that's why I came over. I, uh, I was going to ask if you wanted to go out tonight."
Savannah blinked and damn if her eyes didn't start tearing up. Panic sliced through him and he wondered what the hell he'd done wrong, what he had said to upset her. Then she sniffled and let her head drop back into his lap.
"That's so sweet. I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"
"Because I'm sick."
"Savannah, God." He swallowed back a small laugh. "Don't be sorry. Just rest your head and get some sleep."
"But I am." She yawned, then grimaced when another shiver shook her. The shivering stopped and she settled more deeply against him. "And thank you. For taking care of me."
He brushed the hair from her face and pulled the comforter over her shoulders, a rueful smile on his face. "Just remember you said that in an hour when your fever breaks."
Chapter Seventeen
"Looks like you have company."
Savannah peered at Tessa through half-closed lids. Her friend was looking at the patio doors, her brows slightly raised, her mouth curled in amusement. Savannah looked over then blinked in surprise. Isabelle was standing by the door, her face pressed against the glass as she peeked inside. Aaron stood behind her, one large hand on his daughter's shoulder.
"Should I let them in?"
Savannah tightened the blanket around her shoulders and shot Tessa a disbelieving look. "Is there a reason you wouldn't?"
"God, you're grumpy when you're sick. Anyone ever tell you that?" Tessa made her way over to the door, opening it for the unexpected visitors. Isabelle bounded inside, a large container in her hands. She zoomed right past Tessa, ignoring the other woman as she moved straight to Savannah. She stopped in front of her, a bright smile on her face, and held the container out like some kind of offering.
"Miss Savannah, we brought soup! Grammy said it'll make you feel better."
Savannah looked at the container, then up at Isabelle. "Oh. That's, um, that's very nice. Thank you." Her gaze darted to Aaron, her brow raised in silent question.
He shifted, ran a hand through his dark hair, then shrugged. One corner of his mouth tilted in a tentative smile. "The girls told her you were sick so she made some soup. Chicken noodle. Isabelle wanted to bring it over."
Savannah doubted the girls said any such thing—especially not Brooke. And how had they found out anyway? They hadn't been home Friday night. As far as she knew they weren't home all day yesterday, either, since Aaron had a game…somewhere.
Which meant Aaron must have said something to his mother. The thought that he had been talking about her with his mother left her feeling…odd. Vaguely unsettled but surprisingly giddy.
Which made no sense at all, and only proved her brain was still fried from the fever and chills. Yes, she was feeling better now, just drained and tired, but her brain obviously hadn't recovered yet.
"That's—" She stopped, cleared her throat, started over again. "That's very sweet. Thank you." She reached out to take the container from Isabelle then looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do with it now.
The kitchen. She should probably take it into the kitchen. She uncurled her legs from beneath her, kicking the blanket away so she wouldn't trip and fall. Tessa muttered something then came over, rescuing the container from her hands.
"I'll take it. Sit back down before you fall down."
"Still feeling bad?"
Savannah glanced over at Aaron, saw the concern flash in his eyes as he moved toward her. His gaze darted to Isabelle. He stopped, jammed his hands into the front pocket of the sweatshirt, and rocked back on his heels.
Like he was afraid to come any closer to her. It couldn't be because she was sick—he'd been with her Friday afternoon, until the early hours of Saturday when he had to leave. Holding her. Taking care of her. Helping her shower and change when the fever finally broke and sweat had soaked her clothes.
No, he hadn't been afraid to come near her then. So why the hesitation now?
She didn't have to ask, she knew why: because of Isabelle.
Savannah swallowed against the hot pain scalding her throat and forced a smile to her face when Isabelle climbed onto the sofa next to her. The girl kneeled beside her, an expression of seriousness on her face as she reached out and placed her hand against Savannah's forehead. She started to jerk back in surprise, stopped herself at the last minute, afraid of hurting the girl's feelings.
"Isabelle, don't bother Miss Savannah."
"But Daddy, I think she feels warm. Come check."
Savannah would have laughed at the expression on Aaron's face—if it hadn't hurt so much.
Surprise. Indecision.
Guilt.
It was the guilt that hurt, more than she expected. Pain sliced through her, sharp enough that she gasped, the sound nothing more than a breathy hiss. Was he so ashamed of being with her, so embarrassed at what they'd done, that he couldn't even come near her in front of his daughter? That he wouldn't even touch her in the most casual way?
Savannah ripped her gaze from Aaron's, afraid he would see how much his actions hurt, see how badly his guilt had sliced through her. She forced a smile to her face, one that felt brittle and cold, and leaned away from Isabelle.
"It's okay. I'm fine. Just warm from the blanket." Except she wasn't warm—she was chilled, straight to the bone. Straight to her heart. She grabbed the blanket and tugged it over her shoulders, holding it tight in front of her.
Like some kind of inadequate shield that could protect her from the unspoken words in Aaron's sad eyes.
Isabelle was oblivious to the stifling tension suddenly blanketing the room. She bounced on her knees then finally sat back, that innocent smile still on her face. "Did you want to go trick-or-treating with us Tuesday night? Daddy said he'd dress up, too. And Grammy's coming over to hand out candy while we're gone and then we're going to come home and watch a scary movie."
"I don't think Miss Savannah wants to go trick-or-treating with us, Sweet Pea."
"But it'll be fun!"
Aaron's gaze darted to hers, his dark eyes filled with a confusing mix of yearning and indecision that left her mind spinning. Did he want her to go, or not? Was there a silent message there that she wasn't seeing?
What did he want from her? She couldn't read whatever was in his eyes, couldn't shake the feeling that the man in front of her had no idea what he wanted himself—
And no idea how to go about getting it.
In the end, it was Tessa who saved her from answering, saved her from making a fool of herself by accepting an invitation that hadn't even been issued. She moved into the living room, her shoulder braced against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her.
"Actually, we have a party Tuesday night." Her voice was clipped, her eyes cool and distant as she stared at Aaron. Did he notice? Did he sense Tessa's sudden hostility and understand the reason for it?
Maybe. Maybe not.
He darted another glance at Savannah, his weight moving from one foot to the other. "Come on Isabelle, time to leave."
"But—"
"No buts. I have to get ready to head to the arena. And Miss Savannah needs her rest."
Isabelle's shoulders slumped with her deep sigh. Then she jumped off the sofa and hurried over to the door, Aaron following more slowly. "Feel better, Miss Savannah."
"I will."
Isabelle skipped across the patio, disappearing from view. Aaron still stood there, one large hand wrapped around the edge of the open door, uncertainty in his gaze.
"If you, um, change your mind about Tuesday night, let me know. You're more than welcome to join us."
"She won't." Tessa's voice was clear, maybe a little too loud, the words sharp and precise. If Aaron noticed, he gave no indication.
"I hope you're feeling better. If you, um, if you need anything—"
"I'm fi
ne." Savannah forced the words from her throat, worried at what might come out of Tessa's mouth next. "Tell your mom I said thanks for the soup."
Aaron hesitated for another second then finally nodded and stepped onto the patio, pulling the door closed behind him with a sharp click.
A full five seconds went by before Tessa stormed across the room and dropped into the chair with a growl. "I take back everything nice I said about him. That man is an ass."
"Tessa, he's not—"
"Yes. He is. What is his problem? The way he just stood there, looking like he'd been caught red-handed? I mean, God! How could he just stand there like that? Like he'd rather cut open his femoral artery and go shark diving instead of touching you!"
"He doesn't want his kids to know anything's going on."
"Yeah? Then what about the mixed messages? What the hell is up with that? One second, he's afraid to touch your forehead. The next, he's staring at you like he wants you to pounce on his daughter's invitation to go trick-or-treating. Or like he wants to pounce on you. I don't get it."
"He's just—he's worried about his kids. I understand it." That was the worst part: she really did understand.
"Why are you defending him?"
"Because I understand."
"Well, I don't."
"That's because you didn't get bounced from one parent to the other when you were growing up. You don't know what it's like, being that young and thinking your parents cared more about their personal life than they did you. I do. So yeah, I understand. He's putting his kids first. There's nothing wrong with that." But God, she wished things could be different.
"That doesn't excuse his mixed messages. He can't have it both ways."
Savannah forced a smile to her face, trying to act like it didn't bother her. But she couldn't quite meet Tessa's knowing gaze when she spoke. "It's not a big deal. I knew what I was getting into. It's just sex. That's all."
"No, it's not. I saw the expression on your face, Van. I saw how much you hurt."
"Then you were seeing things."
"Liar."
Savannah didn't say anything. She couldn't, not when she knew Tessa would see right through any denial she uttered.
Chapter Eighteen
Aaron sat outside on the front porch, Harland on his left. They each had a beer in their hand, enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the cool night. Trick-or-treating was done, the kids inside comparing their loot under the watchful eyes of Courtney and Aaron's mom. He figured they'd be running around, bouncing off the walls for another hour at least.
He knew he should go inside and get them settled down, knew he shouldn't let them stay up past their bedtime. But what the hell. They were behaving—even Brooke, who had been on her best behavior since getting into trouble last week.
And he didn't want to spoil their fun, not when there was finally peace in the household and everyone was getting along. He could wait a little bit longer to play the bad guy. Besides, they'd be tired soon enough from all the walking they'd done.
They had started the evening with pizza. Then they headed out, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. Courtney and Aaron's mom had stayed behind, holding down the fort and manning the overloaded candy bowl, so it had been just the five of them: Aaron and Brooke and Isabelle, Harland and Noah. They had walked up the street then turned the corner, heading into the main section of the neighborhood. It might be a small community, with less than two dozen houses, but they were spaced far enough apart that it had taken almost two hours to make the rounds. They had hit every house, some of them twice because the adults were trying to get rid of the candy.
No, not every house. Not exactly.
Aaron raised the bottle to his mouth, his gaze shifting to Savannah's house next door. The porch light was on now, casting a soft glow across her front steps and part of the yard. A bucket of candy sat on the bottom step of the small porch, alone and unattended. Aaron knew she was home, getting ready for whatever party she was going to.
He lowered the bottle, thought about maybe going over and…and what? Say hi? Tell her to have fun? Yeah, right. After that stupid fucking move he'd made the other day? Freezing the way he had, afraid to get too close to her.
Because he had wanted to do nothing more than scoop her into his arms and carry her upstairs. To put her to bed and hold her while she slept. And that's exactly what he would have done if he had gotten close, if he had touched her.
And he couldn't, not with Isabelle standing right there. Not with Savannah's girlfriend in the next room.
Yeah, he had fucked up. Again. Royally.
He should go over and apologize. Tell her he was sorry for acting like an ass. He started to stand, ready to do just that, when her front door opened and Savannah stepped outside, pulling it closed behind her and hurrying down her steps. She must have sensed him watching because she paused then glanced over her shoulder. She hesitated, turning slightly toward him, her hand raised in a small wave.
Aaron sat back down. Hard.
Holy fuck. What was she wearing? He wasn't sure if he wanted to run over and cover her with his coat—
Or tear the outfit from her.
With his teeth.
She was wearing a curve-hugging black gown, the shiny material clinging to each curve and dip of her body like a second skin. A long slit split the side of the gown from the hem all the way to her upper thigh, revealing a shapely leg encased in black fishnet. He blinked, trying to pull air into his lungs as his gaze traveled from the creamy skin peeking out just above the thigh-high stocking to the sinfully high heels of her shiny black shoes.
How the fuck was she even walking in them?
And the front of the gown…holy shit, how was she not falling out of it? The two scraps of material clinging to her firm breasts were held together by nothing more than a thin black string crisscrossed between the panels, baring a wide expanse of creamy skin. And it was cut low. Way low. Too low, revealing a hell of a lot more cleavage than he remembered her having.
A ridiculously long black wig completed the outfit, the straight ends hanging down to her waist. She brushed a few strands of the fake hair from her face, gave him another wave, then climbed into her sporty little car and drove off.
Harland chuckled then nudged him in the side. "You need me to a grab a towel?"
Aaron sucked in a strangled breath, his lungs finally filling with much-needed air. He turned to Harland, frowning. "What?"
"A towel. For the drool running down your chin."
Aaron actually reached up to wipe his chin before he realized Harland was just joking around. He frowned again then raised the bottle to his mouth and drained the beer in two long swallows.
And fuck, he didn't think he'd ever get the image of Savannah's costume out of his mind. He wasn't sure he wanted to. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he'd be pulling that image from his mind in the lonely hours of the night, when the household was sleeping.
"So how are things going between you two?"
Aaron forced his mind away from images of Savannah in his bed, on her back, wearing nothing but those stockings and heels and tried to focus on Harland's words.
Easier said than done.
"There's, uh, there's nothing going on."
"Man, you are so full of shit, it's not even funny. Who do you think you're kidding?"
"Seriously. There's nothing going on. We're just neighbors."
"Uh-huh. Right."
"Why does everyone think there's something going on?"
"Hm, let me think." Harland held up one finger. "Jason caught you making out in your kitchen." He held up a second finger. "You brought her to Mystic's. You, who—from what all the guys are saying—haven't been seen with anyone in years."
"That's not—"
Harland silenced him with a shake of his head and held up a third finger. "You damn near had a heart attack when she walked out the door. Now don't tell me there's nothing going on."
"Think what you want. I told you
, she's just my neighbor."
"You're not sleeping with her?"
Aaron opened his mouth, snapped it closed. He raised the bottle to his mouth then frowned when he realized it was empty. Then he clenched his jaw when Harland started laughing again.
"Yeah, thought so."
"It's not what you think."
"Yeah? Then what is it?"
"We're just friends."
"Friends with benefits?"
"It's not—" Aaron stopped mid-sentence and looked away. He sighed and shook his head, nodded, and finally shrugged. "Yeah. Sure. I guess."
"You guess?"
"You heard me."
"Yeah, I heard you. But I heard what you're not saying more. So what's the problem? I mean, not that there has to be a problem, not if that's what you both want. I just get the feeling that isn't exactly the case."
"Has nothing to do with what I want, and everything to do with what's best right now."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning—I have Brooke and Isabelle to think of."
"Yeah? And?"
"And nothing. That's it."
"I'm not following."
"There's nothing to follow." Aaron stared down at the empty bottle, wondering why his voice had been so sharp. He inhaled, forcing himself to calm down, then exhaled. "Brooke and Isabelle come first. Simple as that."
"Yeah, I get that. But again, what the hell does that have to do with you seeing someone?"
"It has everything to do with it."
"It's not an either-or situation, you know. You can do both."
"No, I can't. Their mother pulled that shit, running around every night, leaving them with a babysitter, and then with her parents after we split. I'm not going to do that to them, too."
Harland was quiet for a long time, so long that Aaron figured the subject was dropped. He leaned against the railing and closed his eyes, trying to banish the lonely desperation that always seemed to hover nearby.
No, not always. Not when he was with Savannah.
"I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way."
Aaron groaned and opened his eyes, frowning at Harland. "Then do us both a favor and keep it to yourself."
Playing It Safe Page 12
