Chapter 33
The past threeweeks have been a blur of good memories, excitement, and anxiety. Savage spends every night at my apartment now. We fall asleep together, him cuddling me, and I wake up to morning sex and coffee right after. It’s honestly a dream come true.
The only thing that taints it is the fact that my plane ticket is booked, my bags are half-packed, and I can’t stop hoping that Savage will ask me to stay.
It’s ridiculous, given that he doesn’t want that and I’m not meant to either, but the time I’ve spent with him is the happiest I’ve been in my life.
I sit behind the counter in the library, the phone in my hand, smiling at the rubbery buttons like a goof.
“You’re in an awfully good mood lately,” Irma says, patting her curls. “You got me worried that you’re going to stay in Heatstroke.”
“Delightful as always, Irma.”
“Well, whatever do you mean?”
I laugh and tap my fingers on the side of the phone. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks calling the local schools and asking them to participate in a fundraising initiative for my Middle-Grade Readers Group. The local middle school agreed to help, but there are a couple others in the county, and they’ve been tougher to crack.
If only I could?—
“You know, you’re usually so mopey when you’re at work,” Irma says. “I’m really surprised you’ve stayed on this long. What’s got you all excited?”
“I’m excited for the reading program,” I say, but that’s only a quarter of it. I’m excited to see Savage later, and I’m nervous because Ganny’s hosting a potluck this weekend, and Savage is going to be there, along with the rest of my family. It’s going to be difficult to avoid him.
“Mmm.” Irma sniffs. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“Huh?”
“That goofy ‘in love’ look. Who’s the lucky guy?” Irma asks, because she wants to pry. Irma’s never particularly interested in me unless she can tease me about it later.
“I’m not in love,” I say. “I’m just excited for the future.”
“Ah. So there’s a guy at this place you’re flying to?”
“I’m going to New York,” I say.
“Right, right.”
I’ve told her my destination a couple of times, but Irma spends most of her time in her own world or gossiping, and my travel itinerary doesn’t rank high on the list of juicy gossip in Heatstroke.
I punch in the number for a local school on the phone, and I’m about to hit dial when Savage walks through the open library doors.
He’s flawless in a tight-fitting white T-shirt that stretches across his pecs. “Savage Self-Defense” is printed across the front of the shirt, but it’s not like I can focus on the damn logo. His gaze is locked onto me, a twinkle in his eye, his hair curls at the ears, and he runs a strong hand over his beard as he approaches the front counter.
That same hand has been around my throat, and my skin tingles at the memory. I smile at him, trying to measure my reaction, since we’re technically keeping this a secret from Cash and everyone in this town.
“Hi,” I say, as he bypasses Irma’s portion of the polished counter and stops in front of me.
Savage smiles at me.
Irma perks up in her seat. “You’re happy today, Mr. Savage,” she says.
He sends a blank look in her direction, but that only makes her eyebrows lift. Shoot. She’s onto us.
“Returning,” Savage says, tapping his finger onto the front cover of the book he’s placed on the counter in front of me.
Irma keeps watching, her lips pursed.
“You aren’t checking out another book?” I ask, as I slide the romance novel across the counter toward me.
Savage shakes his head. The corners of his lips twitch, but he keeps a straight face.
It’s so good to see him smile. It’s even better knowing that I’m the one putting that smile there.
I focus on the task at hand so I don’t give him a dreamy-eyed stare that will rouse Irma’s suspicions. I open the library book to check the date on the card inside.
A folded note is tucked inside the cover.
I cast a sidelong glance at Irma, but she’s returned to tapping away on the computer, her tortoiseshell reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. It’s a pity that Shana isn’t working today. I vastly prefer her company, and she wouldn’t pry into my business.
Carefully, I unfold the note and read what’s written inside.
Princess, I can’t stop thinking about you.
Also, I’m going to donate all the kid’s books in my library to your reading program.
Thank me later.
Carter.
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I look up at him. He gives me one last smile before turning and walking off toward the exit, and my, those jeans he’s in are snug.
“Don’t stare, Hannah,” Irma says. “It’s not becoming of a lady.”
“Bless your heart, Irma,” I reply.
Her head snaps up.
“When did I ever say I was a lady?” And then I stare back down at the note. Is he serious? All the books? We talked about the initiative once when I was out on the ranch, but it didn’t come up after that. And his wife was a children’s book author, wasn’t she?
My insides twist with grief for him. How can he do this? Is he serious?
“Excuse me.” I get up and take the note with me to the bathroom. I slip my phone out of my pocket and shoot him a text.
Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take those books from you if you don’t truly want to donate them, because it’s a big deal, Carter.
SAVAGE
I want you to have them.
I don’t know what to say. Thank you, but I’m not sure I can accept. They have so much sentimental value.
It’s a good step for me to take. My therapist thinks so too. I want to respect Charlotte’s memory, but I also have to find a way to move on from the grief. She would have wanted me to donate these books. Her whole life was about giving to others and to kids in particular.
Wow. I’m so happy for you, that you feel like you can take this step.
You’re the reason, Princess. You are the reason I’m ready.
Tears well up in my eyes and my throat closes. He’s been through so much, and I can’t ever replace what he has lost, even if he wanted me to, but what he’s saying is just…
I don’t have the words.
Then I’ll have them for you. You are a life-changing, giving, amazing person, Hannah Taylor. You are the most special woman I have ever met.
I stare at the screen, shaking from head-to-toe, because he feels that way about me.
Get it together!
But I’m fast running out of reasons not to fall for him.
You can’t stay here. You won’t stay here.
It doesn’t matter that Franklin doesn’t text me anymore or send me flowers, or even that Cash has given me space. I wanted to leave Heatstroke for a reason—to experience life. To find myself and my independence.
I can’t do that here. Can I?