When I was with her, no matter how much time had passed since the last time I’d seen her, my feelings picked up right where they’d left off. I couldn’t stop myself from pressing the open wound to see if it still hurt. Of course, it still fucking hurt. It was an open fucking wound.
After an hour of uncomfortable silence, we spotted the lights of the place I’d picked as our first-night destination.The town, situated in the middle of Nevada, barely showed up as a speck on the map. But it had three hotels, and at least one of them was likely to have two rooms on the same floor, which was an absolute necessity. Savannah and I needed some distance between us, but I couldn’t let her very far out of my sight.
Five minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a decent-looking bar and grill. “This place looks as good as any.”
The restaurant was quiet for a Saturday night, but in a sleepy town like this, the dinner rush would have ended much earlier. The hostess who seated us and handed us menus was also the waitress who brought us water and took our orders. When Savannah ordered chicken marsala, I tightened my shoulders to hold my composure. When it was my turn to order, I went for the obvious. Steak and a baked potato because I’m a walking cliché, and a house salad on the side because my mother raised me right.
More awkward silence ensued as we sipped our water and waited for our meals. I’ve had more fun waiting for an incoming sniper attack.
“Listen, Savannah—” “Why don’t we—” We spoke at the same time.
I clasped my hands in front of me on the table. “You first.”
“Okay.” She traced a fingertip through a water glass trail. “I think we need Vegas rules for this road trip.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Vegas rules?
“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip.” She glanced up at me. “We agree not to hold the other responsible for things we do. Or say. Except for the one thing I haven’t said to you yet: Thank you. Thank you for doing all this for me. Taking a risk. Interrupting your life. I’m sure you have things you need to do, places you need to go. Like Chicago.”
I nodded. “Final job interview Tuesday morning. The VP says it’s just a formality, but I do have to be there.”
“Congratulations. So you’re not moving back to Annapolis or DC, near your family?”
I shrugged. “I’m still considering my options.” Which was true, but the more I dwelled on my past back home, the less I wanted to live there. So, yeah, Chicago was looking like my dream job.
“We’ll make it there on time, right?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem as long as Mai can meet us there.” My sister damn well better show up in person to take over Savannah’s protection, because I wouldn’t trust anyone else in the world to do it.
She frowned. “To take over babysitting duties. God, I hate being so dependent.”
I grinned. “I remember.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Well, anyway, thank you. And there’s probably something you want to say to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s it?”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lindstrom?”
“How about an apology for manhandling me?” She narrowed those big, golden-brown eyes.
“See, there’s that word again.” I grinned. I couldn’t help it. She looked so damn cute when she was annoyed with me. “I don’t think it means what you think it means because, like I already said, I was just helping you in your moment of weakness.”
Plus, I’d wanted an excuse to feel her in my arms again, even if it was in an awkward position. Then there’d been the bonus of seeing her fine ass inches from my face. I really did like those jeans she was wearing.
“But if it makes you feel better, I won’t tell anyone you needed to be carried.” I winked. “Vegas rules.”
Savannah opened her mouth, no doubt to toss out somesmart-ass remark, then smiled as our waitress approached and set down our food in front of us. We exchanged pleasantries with her, and Savannah maintained her smile until the woman was gone.
“We should eat before it gets cold,” I said.
The anger leaked from her face as she stared down at her dinner. “I am pretty hungry.” She shot me a withering glance. “And you’re too damn stubborn to apologize anyway.”
The full plates of food in front of us put us both in better moods. We managed to have a pleasant conversation as we ate. She told me a little about her business, her face lighting up when she talked about it. I didn’t ask follow-up questions because I didn’t want to remind her how precarious it was, although I doubted she’d forgotten for a second.
We moved on to discuss my family. She knew nearly as much about Mai’s career as I did, and texted with her often enough to know my dad was still teaching at the Naval Academy, and my mom continued her tenure at American University. She knew Michael was in an MBA program but was surprised to learn he was about to graduate. Then we edged into the difficult topic of her mother’s cancer diagnosis, followed six months later by her death.
