Chapter 31

It’s beenthree straight days of sex and heaven and eating good food. Drinking wine. Spending time with a man I thought hated me at best or was indifferent to me at worse, and I have come out the other side, a changed woman.

I don’t know how that’s possible, but it is. The Hannah Taylor who arrived on the ranch was without hope. The one leaving it is seriously sore from another night of intense sex and also, completely satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s it. Remember what I said, let your momentum take you. Don’t punch from your shoulder, and you’ve got it.”

I take aim at Savage and do as I’m told. He’s wearing pads to catch my fists, and he gives me a grin of fierce pride as I land the punch.

“Fuck, Princess, you are really good at that. Well done.”

“Thanks,” I say with a grin.

We’re outside the ranch house together, with the blue sky above, the water finally having soaked into the ground or dried up, and the trees are swaying in a gentle summer breeze. I’m going to have to drive back into Heatstroke in a car that smells like a rotten vegetable patch.

“I should hit the road,” I say, biting the corner of my lip.

We discussed it last night over wine. I’m heading back into town today. The road is passable, and I still have work at the library for the next couple of weeks to get back to—and my plan to get the local schools involved in the reading program. I am not giving up on that before I leave.

Savage walks me back into the house. He grabs my bag for me and carries it through the hall, bare-chested, slightly sweaty from our training session.

I would stay and shower, but I’m afraid I’ll never leave if I do. Because I’ll want him to join me in the shower, and then we’ll end up having sex against the tiles, and I’ll stay another night.

I know, because I was meant to leave yesterday and that’s exactly what happened.

Savage stops at the front door, his hand on the knob. “Any time you want to come back,” he says. “You come back.”

“Oh really?” I bat my eyelashes at him dramatically. “You mean, the notorious loner Carter Savage doesn’t want to be left all alone on his ranch?”

Savage hooks a muscular arm around my waist and drags me to him. He kisses me so hard, my toes curl in my tennis shoes, and by the time he sets me down, I’m gasping for air.

“Not when it comes to you, Princess,” he says. “The rest of them can get out of my swamp.”

I laugh, but he silences me with another kiss, and my mirth turns into a moan. “Carter,” I whisper. “I’m never going to leave if we keep doing this.”

“That’s part of my evil plan,” he says, that deep voice sending a thrill through me. “Keep you here forever, like a princess trapped in a castle.”

“Except I want to be trapped with you.”

He kisses me again, pressing me against the wall, and we knock over a vase on a table in the entry hall.

I laugh against his mouth. “You had me this morning.”

He grunts. “Not enough of you.”

“You can stop by to bodyguard me tonight,” I whisper. “Or this afternoon. You know, whenever you’re free.”

“I’m free right now. Why don’t we go unpack your bag?” He sucks on my bottom lip, and my heart flutters. “You can stay here for a month.”

“I’m leaving, remember.”

A throaty noise of displeasure. “Fine. Come on. I’ve got to call Cash and tell him you’re on your way home anyway.”

“I’m surprised he isn’t freaking out at me over the phone.” I follow Savage down the creaking wooden steps of his ranch house.

“Hmm, that’s because he’s pretty sure that your stalker isn’t a stalker any more.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh God. What did he do?”

“He went out to meet ol’ Fucklin and warn him not to come near you.”

“You’re kidding.” I can’t be mad at my brother for that. He’s a dick for not telling me, but I’m grateful. The cops won’t help me because Franklin hasn’t “done anything” yet.

“Nope.”

“That sounds like Cash,” I say. “So, wait, does that mean you’re not my bodyguard any more?”

“You’re disappointed.” He smiles, and I can’t get enough of it, the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners and his face lifts from that usual surly expression.

“Maybe. Okay, definitely.”

“Cash wants me to watch you until you leave.”

“Good.”

Savage waits for me to open the trunk of my car and then places the bag inside. The scent of waterlogged and ruined upholstery floods my nostrils, and I recoil. “That’s wonderful.”

“Mmm. I know a guy who can help. I’ll give you his number. Engine should be fine. The flood water didn’t get high enough to choke it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

He shuts the trunk and leans against it. “You’re not freaking out about Cash overstepping his bounds.”

“I would,” I say, “but there’s this whole… I had an amazing time at my bodyguard’s ranch thing to take into account. If Cash hadn’t been such an overprotective brother, I never would have wound up here. So, it’s his fault, really. Kind of.”

He grabs me by the hips and pulls me close, and I swear I’m never going to get used to that, or the way he sends butterflies tumbling through my stomach with a glance. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been together. I’m lusting after him like we’ve hardly touched, so each time we do, I squirm and gasp.

I’d be embarrassed, but I deserve this feeling. Even if it’s only for the next six weeks.

He captures my lips in another soul-destroying kiss, and we’re grinding against each other like two horny teenagers within the span of a couple of minutes. Savage’s feet slip in the wet grass, and we break apart, me touching my lips, and him readjusting himself in those cursed gray sweatpants.

“Okay,” I say. “I’d better go.”

“Don’t touch yourself,” he says.

“What?”

Savage comes over and brushes my hair from my neck. He kisses my throat then nips it, overpowering me with that smoky cedar scent and his presence. “Do not touch yourself until I’m there. I want you to wait. Understood?”

“Yes, Carter.”

He fists a handful of my hair and gives me one last kiss before backing up to my door and opening it for me.

I wince at the disgusting smell and the way the carpeting in my car squelches as I sit down. I turn the key in the ignition then roll down the windows with a press of a button. Savage shuts my door for me and leans down, leveling me with another of those butterfly-inducing gazes.

“Be careful,” he says.

“I’m just driving home,” I reply.

“I should take you.”

“I’ll be fine. I insist.”

He hesitates, and after what he’s told me about his past, it has to be hard for him not to be overprotective. I squeeze his arm. “Carter,” I murmur, “I promise you, I’ll be fine.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“The minute I’m there,” I say.

He pats the top of my car then backs up.

I reverse out of my parking spot, making the turn and I head off down the dirt road. It’s too damp to kick up dust, but I keep glancing in my rearview mirror.

Savage stands in front of the ranch house, arms folded, watching me until I turn the corner.

Thirty minutes later,I park outside a worse for wear Bagel’s Bakery, my heartbeat wild against the inside of my chest.

When we were trapped out on Carter’s ranch, the sex was like a hazy fantasy, but now that I’m back in Heatstroke, what happened is too real. We had sex. A lot. And he wants me. He actually wants me.

I squeeze my steering wheel out of sheer excitement and let out a giggle. I feel like a schoolgirl again, and even though it’s childish, I love it.

I grab my phone out of the center console and shoot him a quick text.

Here safe. Parked outside Bagel’s Bakery.

SAVAGE

Text me once you’re inside. I’ll be by tonight.

Can’t wait.

Remember the rule. No touching yourself.

You’d better come stop me.

How about I just make you come.

“Oh God,” I mutter.

I’m still sore from the storm, but I don’t care. I want more of him. I want as much as I can have until I leave.

Already, the thought of leaving makes me nervous, and not in the good way it did before.

Don’t be weird, Hannah. You want to go. And he doesn’t want you to stay.

I get out of my car and glance up and down the street. There’s debris from the storm. The striped awning over Bagel’s Bakery is torn on one side, a few of the benches are damaged, and one of the lampposts has been knocked over. It’s bad, but it’s not catastrophic. Across the street, Mrs. Wilson is already opening the doors to the antique store.

“Hannah!” The sound of my best friend’s voice sends a shock through me. “Han!”

I turn toward the glass front door of Bagel’s Bakery and let out a happy squeal. “Belle?”

My bestie, dressed in a black pencil skirt that fits her like a glove, matched with a cream silk blouse and a pair of slingback pumps, marches across the sidewalk. “There you are! I was worried sick about you.”

“About me? Belle, what are you doing here?” I circle the car and run toward her.

We collide and I hug her tight, squeezing so hard she lets out a wheeze. “I missed you,” I whisper.

“I missed you too, Han,” she says, and she pulls back, her brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “No offense, but you smell kind of funky.”

“What?”

“Like mushrooms or something.”

“Oh,” I say, with a laugh. “It’s my car.” Another laugh, and I can’t stop smiling. “It got damaged in the storm.”

“Now,” Belle says, taking me by the arm and leading me back toward my car, “don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s kind of a strange thing to get excited about.”

“I’m not excited,” I say, grabbing my keys and phone. I pop open my trunk and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, still smiling.

“You’re not excited.” Belle tucks dark curls behind one ear. She’s pale, with crimson lips, and I’ve always thought of her as Sleeping Beauty. With a little bit more sass. And less weird guys trying to kiss her while she’s asleep.

“No.”

“But you’re smiling from…” Belle’s eyes go wide. “You little—” She grabs me by the arm and tugs me close, peering into my eyes.

“What are you?—?”

“You had sex.”

“I… What?”

“You. Had. Sex. I can see it in your eyes.”

“That is a seriously strange talent to have,” I say.

“So, you admit you had sex.” Belle smiles at me. “Man, I’m good.” And then her eyes go wide as dinner plates. “Are you kidding me? Did you… You and Savage?”

I press a finger to my lips and shush her like there are people trying to eavesdrop on my conversation.

“No. Way.” Belle does a little happy dance on the spot. “I can’t believe it. It finally happened?”

“Let’s talk about this upstairs,” I say.

Belle and I walk up the stairs together, and she shoots questions at me. Once we’re inside, I send Carter a quick message, then put my phone on the coffee table and plop down on my floral-print sofa.

Belle sits down next to me, grinning. She looks so well put together, the big city girl in her professional attire, sitting on the edge of my sofa. She’s out of place in Heatstroke, but I don’t care, because she is the kindest, sweetest person I know. And she throws a mean left hook.

When we were at college, a guy grabbed my ass on a night out and Belle clocked him on the nose so hard, he had to go to the ER.

“Okay, so, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Belle asks, clapping her hands excitedly. “Do I need to break out the wine and the tissues?”

“It’s meant to be a secret,” I say.

“Ninety percent of my job is keeping secrets,” she says, fluttering long lashes at me. “Come onnnn. I won’t tell anybody.”

“Why are we even talking about me? How about the fact that you’re in town. And here. In my living room. I haven’t seen you in, like, six months. And Facetiming most days doesn’t count.”

Belle pulls a face. “It’s work-related.”

“Wait, you’re in Heatstroke for work?”

“Enough about my chaotic life,” she says, trying to brush it aside. “What about you? And your new older hunky mountain man?”

“He doesn’t live near a mountain.”

“It still counts.”

“You are hiding something,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “Do you want to tell me over coffee?”

Belle lets out a breath. “I’m afraid it might make things worse if we’re both hopped up on caffeine.”

“Tell you what,” I say, “you tell me why you’re here, other than to soak in my presence, and I’ll tell you how things went with Savage.” Now that I’m used to calling him Carter, it’s strange to say Savage out loud.

“You’re not going to like it,” Belle says.

“Try me.”

“Well,” she says, “you know that jackass rugby player I have to babysit and keep out of trouble?”

“Sure?”

“It’s your brother, Leo.”