Chapter 24
SAVANNAH
Lying in bed with a sheet wrapped around me, I rest on my side and lean my head against my propped arm, watching as Julian pokes at the fire burning inside the fireplace.
The moment we entered his room at the Schoolhouse Inn, clothes were ripped off in record time.
Now it is who knows what hour during the night, but we’re still awake.
“I could get used to this Little House on the Prairie stuff,” he remarks as he sets the poker to the side.
I lick my lips as I fight a grin. “Enlighten me.”
His hands go out to display the room. “I mean, I have a fire to keep warm at night, and there isn’t even a TV in here.”
My eyes fall to my hand that brushes along the mattress as my lips slip into a smile.
“I think that’s what most people would call chic.
The pristine wood floors and antique porcelain that they serve breakfast on are hardly screaming ‘let’s churn butter from the milk we collect from the cows, while I wear a bonnet. ’”
Julian’s eyes brighten as he walks back in the direction of the bed. “A bonnet, eh?”
I swat his arm as he joins me back in bed. “Don’t even joke about that.”
His sheepish smile is enough as he mirrors my position, and a blissful silence fills the room. I feel it, the obvious thought and feeling that has blown around me all day.
A fragility hits me as my words begin to form. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Coming here and meeting my aunt. Truthfully, I thought it was something you would fight for a long time. It’s not exactly an ‘oh let’s grab dinner tonight’ kind of thing. It’s a little more than that. And you initiated it.”
His mouth slides to the side, and he seems to deliberate with himself. Maybe he hasn’t realized the optics until now. But his fingertips softly touch my arm on the spot below my shoulder that always seems to be the button of assurance.
“I’m not afraid of things.”
Instantly, I snicker at the ridiculousness. “I beg to differ. I believe you were afraid of me.”
He shushes me with his long finger when it lands on my lips. “I’m not afraid of things, I conquer them. The path to you took a different approach.”
I set the palm of my hand on his cheek and give him a saccharine look that’ll tell him it’s the sweetest thing he could say. I pat his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that.” Because deep down, we both knew we were scared of the magnetism we felt toward one another.
His response is to move hastily, and I land flat on my back. “Careful,” he warns.
“Oh dear, what will you do? Remember, I need to wake with the roosters and bake the bread for the day,” I tease him because of what he said earlier.
It causes him to grin. “There is only one thing you will be waking to.” He kisses my neck, but it quickly turns to a slight sharp pain.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” I stare at the ceiling and giggle ridiculously as he continues his pursuit to mark me. As funny as it is, it’s really not, and I begin to push him away. “Seriously, I don’t want to go to lunch with my aunt wearing a scarf in 70-degree weather.”
Julian pulls back with an understanding grin. “You have a solid point.”
He wiggles until his forearms are framing me as they rest on the pillow on each side. This time, the moment of quiet is his own doing. “Savannah…” His sentence drifts away, leaving me to wonder. “We can’t keep doing this.”
The words hit me like a bolt. Cold and unnerving. Panic flickers in my chest, and I know he sees it. Still, the corner of his mouth lifts, barely, a shadow of something softer under the surface of his control.
“Denying that we’re moving toward something,” he says, tone deliberate, “and we can’t keep ignoring it.”
A flicker of relief slides through me, though caution claws at the edges. I’m unsure what he’s really saying.
“Talk faster,” I murmur. “Because starting with we can’t keep doing this? Not a great strategy.”
He chuckles once before his eyes lock on me—piercing, commanding, yet… raw in a way that catches me off guard.
“True.” His tone softens enough to betray the wall he’s holding up. “What I mean is… we’re something. I don’t know the name for it yet, but it’s real. And my feelings for you… They keep growing. It’s dangerous. More for you than me.”
Shimmying against the mattress, I manage to bring my arms up to rest my hands on each side of his back. “Tell me to run,” I challenge him.
“No fucking chance.”
I smile, satisfied. “Excellent answer, because we have a problem.” His eyes squint in curiosity.
“I used to despise you. Now I only despise you because you’ve made me see a side of you that feels like it’s only for me.
That’s a powerful thing because now my feelings for you are stronger than imaginable. ”
We’re trapped in a trance that strikes us.
I feel his pulse pick up, and he feels mine.
I stare straight into his eyes, and I’m not even lost. It’s the clarity of our magnitude.
Our lips slowly meld together as our fingers interlace against the mattress.
Unlike all the times before, this kiss holds a promise.
Lunch is a struggle. As much as eating a BLT sandwich at the Riverbell, seated outside on this beautiful day, should be pure relaxation, I’m tired.
Julian woke early when he began to cough.
I’m positive he has a headache, too, but he seems to be in denial.
Taking a deep breath, I soak in the sun while I watch the green water of the river, and the pine trees along the shore bring some tranquility as I hear my aunt chatting with Julian in the background.
“This place is packed like yesterday,” he comments.
I grab a chip from my plate. “Well, it’s Saturday and lunchtime.”
“It’s a nice casual vibe.”
My aunt smiles warmly. “Now. There’s a wedding here tonight, a totally different feel. White tablecloths and all.”
He sneezes into his arm, and my face puzzles as we seem to be losing him physically. “I can envision a lot of business meetings here.”
“Well, I guess people stop by on their way to or from Lake Spark because of the hockey team there. There’s a golf course not far, too,” she explains.
“I’ve had this place for more than thirty years.
There has never been a time when I felt we didn’t have enough customers.
I tried to change the lunch menu once and got some complaints, so I changed it back.
I guess people like the classics. But at night, we do dip our toes into that fancy stuff.
Blue cheese and pears seem to get people excited. ”
I lean to my side to touch her arm. “All the more reason this is so unfair if they sell the docking rights.”
She smiles weakly at me, and the disappointment is apparent. “You never know. But I’ve prepared myself for the most-likely scenario. We’ll know in a few weeks when it all comes to a vote. But whoever the investor is, their wallet is too appealing to the county.”
Julian jumps in. “Let’s see if we can find a loophole. I’ll have my guys look into it.”
My aunt waves him off. “Don’t involve yourself in this. Fate will be fate.” I shake my head, but before I can say anything, my aunt squeezes my arm to stop me. “How was the inn? Sleep alright?”
Julian coughs again, and that’s when I decide to state the obvious. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
He grins. “Don’t be ridiculous. I never get sick.”
“Right. Superman never gets sick.” There is little conviction in my tone. “I don’t know. You have a different color than normal.”
He scoffs at me, as though I’m crazy. “Really. I’m fine. My immune system is as hard as steel. Must be something in the air. I’m probably not used to the clean fresh air.”
“Right. Earth-shattering,” I say dryly. “Most people who get sick struggle to eat much.” I give him a pointed look and draw our attention to his plate, which holds a half-eaten sandwich.
“It was a big sandwich. I’ll take the rest as leftovers,” he rationalizes.
My aunt looks at me with a closed, knowing smile. Maybe Julian doesn’t want to appear weak. I’m not sure, but it kind of irks me. “I’m going to leave you two be. I want to check that everything is set for tonight’s event.”
“Sure. We’ll swing by the house later,” I mention.
Julian gives her a little nod in acknowledgment. “See you.”
When she’s gone, I cross my arms and lean back in the chair as I study him. “Would you like to admit defeat now that you’re getting sick?”
He shakes his head and grabs his iced tea to drink. “Savannah,” he says, saying my name tightly. “Stop this. I don’t get sick. I don’t have time to be sick. My daily diet consists of power bars and smoothies with vitamins so I don’t get sick.”
I raise a finger in the air and sit up. “Except… you know, they say once you finally relax, that your body allows itself to get a virus or cold?” I bring my finger to my chin.
“I believe you, dear boss, have been relaxed lately. So much so that your body might be in shock and is finally allowing itself to combust.”
“Then why don’t you have a cold?” he asks flippantly.
“Because I just don’t.” Maybe he’ll pass on his germs. My mind goes through the files of possible scenarios, and it hits me, and I wince.
He notices. “What?”
“You know how marketing dragged you to the daycare for PR?”
“Yes. The cries and toys thrown were my idea of hell.”
Casually, I take a bite of another chip. “There’s a virus floating around there. Lola got hers from there.”
“You were the one who was thrown up on,” he states impassively.
“Not my first rodeo of a sick Lola. Anyway, congratulations, Julian Haven, you are officially knocked out.” I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”
He is struggling to admit defeat, but reluctantly, he follows my lead.
Within two hours, a fever hit Julian. Even a number on a thermometer couldn’t end his denial. He said he had emails to catch up on. But it went downhill, and a headache made his 15-minute rest last an hour.
He drags his body up to sitting on the bed as I return to the room after heading out to stock up on supplies.
Julian scrubs his face with his hands. “What is this misery?” he groans in drowsiness.
I really do hate seeing him like this, but I also can’t help biting my lip to keep any humor from showing, given his stubbornness today. “What we common people call a virus. You’re down for the count.” I come to sit on the bed and drop a cloth shopping bag on the duvet. “Here.”
He digs out the items in the bag. “Medicine for headaches.” He tosses it on the bed. “Medicine for a sore throat.” It lands next to the other box of pills. He pulls out a bottle of green liquid. “Nighttime sleep.”
I point to that one. “That’s a classic and a goody. It’ll knock you out all night, and you’ll wake feeling refreshed.”
“And this?” He holds up a pink bottle.
“Yeah, they were out of the option for fever and only had the kids' bubble gum flavor, so I figured we could just double or triple the advised amount.”
A smile breaks out on his face. “Am I supposed to take all of this?”
I shake my head. “Don’t be silly. We’ll do like three. We needed options. This is all new to you.”
He continues examining items in the bag, and his brows furrow when he sees a green glass bottle. “This doesn’t even have a label.”
I snatch it from his hand and begin to unscrew the cap. “It’s from my aunt. She makes it herself. Rosemary and thyme, and a bunch of other things from her garden. Apparently, it’s great for sore throats.”
“And today we needed muffins, a thermos, and I think a bag of fruit snacks?” He is pleasantly confused.
“My aunt sent over some things, in case you get hungry. I thought I deserved a box of fruit snacks for my nursing skills.”
He chuffs a sound and leans back against the headboard. “Your aunt sent over things?”
I shrug before I begin to move the items to the side. “Of course, you’re in my life. It’s what families do for one another. We take care and help make someone feel better.”
His face becomes unreadable. “Family,” he whispers. The way he says it makes it feel as though it’s a foreign concept to him, far off in the distance.
I get it. The idea of it all is still unnerving for him, and I scoop up his hand in mine. “Yeah. You’ll have to get used to that.”
The twitch at the corner of his mouth signals that he seems to be succumbing, in little pieces, to the idea, and it warms me to the brim.
As I begin to adjust the blankets, I make it my mission to care for him. “Come on. Let’s get you recovered.”
His arm swoops to the side and around me, guiding me close until my ear rests against his chest. I feel the heat of his fever through his t-shirt. But when he kisses the top of my head and I peer up to see that his eyes begin to hood closed, I don’t care, and I cling to him.
“You are an overbearing nurse that under normal circumstances, I would lose my cool with until they were fired, but with you, I’m lucky,” he voices, with lethargy taking over.
The balance of power is how Julian is with most people. And he always wins.
But on the lucky scale, I think I’m the luckier one.