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Maybe being a guest chez Blake won’t be so bad after all.
“Thanks, Blake. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can, I promise.”
Her words drew his attention to her hair, which was soaking wet. A few loose strands clung to her face.
He reached out, as if to tuck a strand behind her ear. Then he shoved his hand into his pocket.
“It’s no trouble. I’m just glad I came back to check on you… I mean, the plant.” His voice was rough as he nodded toward a sliding barn door. “The bathroom is there. It’s stocked with everything you need, including an unopened toothbrush.”
“Thank you, again.” Savannah set her purse and bag on the floor beside the bed.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Blake dragged his stare from hers. “I’ll find something you can sleep in and leave it on the bed. Then I’ll rustle up something for us to eat.”
With the violent storm crackling around them, she hadn’t thought about food. But now that he mentioned it, she was starving. She hadn’t eaten since lunch.
“All right, cowboy.” She couldn’t help teasing him. She hadn’t ever heard the word rustle used outside of a cowboy movie.
Blake grinned, then slapped his thigh. “C’mon, boys. Let’s give Savannah some space.”
The dogs rushed out into the hall and Blake left, too, closing the door behind him.
Savannah exhaled, thankful for a moment of solitude. Yet, thinking of him, she couldn’t help smiling.
She shook her head, as if the move would jostle loose the rogue thoughts of Blake Abbott that had lodged themselves there.
Don’t you dare think about it. Blake Abbott is definitely off-limits.
* * *
“Hey.” Blake was sure Savannah could hear the thump of his heart, even from where she stood across the room.
She padded toward him wearing his oversize University of Tennessee T-shirt as gracefully as if it was a Versace ball gown. Her black hair was chestnut brown on the ends. Ombre, his sister had called it when she’d gotten a similar dye job the year before.
Savannah’s hair hung down to her shoulders in loose ringlets that made him want to run the silky strands between his fingers. To wrap them around his fist as he tugged her mouth to his.
Absent cosmetics, Savannah’s freshly-scrubbed, freckled skin took center stage. She was the kind of beautiful that couldn’t be achieved with a rack of designer dresses or an expensive makeup palette.
Her natural glow was refreshing.
Seeing Savannah barefaced and fresh out of the shower felt intimate. She’d let down her guard and bared a little of her soul to him.
Blake’s heart raced and his skin tingled with a growing desire for this woman. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to touch her.
He fought back the need to taste the skin just below her ear. To nip at her full lower lip. To nibble on the spot where her neck and shoulder met.
Blake snapped his mouth shut when he realized he must look like a guppy in search of water.
“Hey.” Savannah’s eyes twinkled as she tried to hold back a grin. “Where are Sam and Benny?”
“I put them downstairs in the den. Didn’t want to torture them with the food or annoy you with Benny’s begging. One look at that sad face and I’m a goner.” He nodded toward the orange-and-white University of Tennessee shirt she was wearing. “I see the shirt fit. Kind of.”
Savannah held her arms out wide and turned in a circle, modeling his alma mater gear. “It’s a little big, but I think I made it work.”
That’s for damn sure.
The hem of the shirt skimmed the tops of her thighs and hugged her curvy breasts and hips like a warm caress.
Blake was incredibly jealous of that T-shirt. He’d give just about anything to be the one caressing those undulating curves. For his body to be the only thing covering hers.
The too-long sleeves hung past her fingertips. Savannah shoved them up her forearms. She lifted one foot, then the other, as she pulled the socks higher up her calves. Each time, she unwittingly offered a generous peek of her inner thigh.
Blake swallowed hard. The words he formed in his head wouldn’t leave his mouth.
“Smells good. What’s for dinner?” She didn’t remark on his odd behavior, for which he was grateful.
“I had some leftover ham and rice.” He turned back to the stove and stirred the food that was beginning to stick to the pan. “So I fried an egg and sautéed a few vegetables to make some ham-fried rice.”
“You made ham-fried rice?”
There was the look he’d often seen on her face. Like a war was being waged inside her head and she wasn’t sure which side to root for.
“Yep.” Blake plated servings for each of them and set them on the dining room table, where he’d already set out a beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. He pulled out her chair.
