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“My pride and joy.”
“What year is it?” Her eyes grow wide.
“You know about cars?” I follow her over to the driver’s side as she examines the body.
“A little.” She waves her hand through the air. “My dad was a mechanic. He loved vintage cars, but couldn’t ever afford anything like this.” Her shoulders slump as she exhales. When she turns to me, her eyes sparkle. “This is fucking gorgeous!”
“I’m glad you think so.” I toss her the keys.
“What?” Her normally low voice raises an octave. “No. I couldn’t.”
“Yes,” I say, walking around to the passenger’s side, “You can.” She opens her mouth to object once more, but instead she jumps up and down in place. “Be careful.”
“Duh.” She says, and crawls into the driver’s side.
Savannah is careful. She wears a huge smile on her face as I navigate, taking her the long way to the local tavern near the lake. It’s impossible to take my eyes off of her. The way the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she laughs. Her long, elegant neck. The perfect thickness of her thighs as she presses into the accelerator. I’m hard as a rock the whole drive.
When we finally make it to Hook and Reel’s, the oldest tavern in Burly Creek, Savannah’s practically lit up like a Christmas tree. She puts the car in park and brushes her hair away from her face. “Oh my God, I’m stealing this Porsche.”
My booming laugh fills the car. “Over my dead body, woman.”
Savannah shrugs. “So be it.” She hands me the keys and we make our way inside. I stay back ever so slightly to watch the intoxicating sway of her hips. Until I hold the door for her, of course.
As soon as we step inside, I wonder if this was the right move. Maybe she wanted something fancier than a dive bar with a jukebox blaring Merle Haggard tunes. But this place has always felt like home to me and I want to share it with her.
She takes in the scene. The three old timers guzzling beer at their regular stools, the pool table with the ancient Coors Light sign hanging above, and Devon behind the bar, whose family owns the joint.
“Is this okay?” I ask, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“Quinn,” she walks backwards, throwing her arms out. “This place is perfect.” A smile slides across my lips. “And here I thought you were going to suggest someplace ritzy. Like some fancy hotel bar where they serve flower flavored liquor.” She shudders dramatically before hopping up on a barstool.
I couldn’t love her more at this moment. I shake the thought from my head. I mean it relatively. It’s not literal love. It can’t be. Right?
She leans forward, introducing herself to Devon, who tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and waves in my direction. “I can’t believe you’re with this guy.” She says, then leans over the bar and kisses me on the cheek. I’ve known Devon since she was old enough to get in trouble for drinking under age. She’ll always be that little girl in pigtails to me.
“She must be nuts, huh?” I shrug, then cast a glance at Savannah.
“Totally.” She agrees, but the look in her eyes tells me that she may be enjoying this journey almost as much as I am. “Two beers. Two shots of whiskey.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder when she orders, and Devon gets to work. We clink glasses and the warm liquid courage goes down the hatch as smooth as sunshine.
“So, what do you want to know?” Savannah asks, taking off her blazer. Underneath, she’s wearing a skimpy silk camisole. The material reveals the outline of her lacy bra. My fists clench against the bar as I try my damndest not to stare at those perfect tits of hers.
“Everything,” I say, and mean it. “But let’s start with why you took this job. Obviously you know that it hasn’t been an easy position to fill.”
“If I can be frank—”
“I didn’t know you could be anything else.”
She squints her eyes and smiles. “Cute.”
Now it’s my turn to smile. “I do my best.”
“I want to open my own store one day. After I’ve worked my way up the ranks here at Strong Brew, of course.”
“So, you want to be my competition?”
She throws her head back and laughs. She has the slightest overbite I’ve never noticed before. I’m mad for it. It makes her even more perfect.
“I’m not going to stay in Burly Creek. I don’t have a reason to.” She takes a sip of her beer. “Hell, I’m not even going to stay on this coast. I want to head back to the Midwest and open a shop there.”
