Chapter 12 Savannah
Savannah
Since Louise banned work at the diner, I was forced to go across the street to the hipstery cafe with overpriced coffees to work on this appeal.
I’d been here since they opened at six, my body jittery from the two double-shot espressos I’d had in the last three hours. But Preston and Sterling were ramping up, their lawsuits going from ridiculous to holding some validity, so I had to be on my A-game and ready for anything they threw at me.
But every time I shut my eyes, I saw Weston giving me a soft smile while he told me I was amazing. I didn’t know I needed to hear something like that until he’d said it last night.
I hadn’t even been doing anything special, just coming up with a plan for the appeal I’d been researching all morning. But he had looked at me like I was walking on the moon or something equally impressive.
It had made me realize Stewart never looked at me like that. Not even remotely close. Everything I did was lackluster to him.
The bell over the door to the cafe rang, and Delilah came to the table I was sitting at and draped herself across the chair. She was in the same clothes she had on last night at Beau’s, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, with oversized sunglasses.
“Why can’t we go to the diner?” she asked, her voice dry. “I need grease to soak up all this alcohol.”
I arched a brow at her. “Long night?”
“The longest. I went to the Bull Pen after Beau’s and picked up a guy in town for a rodeo, can’t remember his name.” She took a sip of my oat milk latte and grimaced. “Pretty sure he was a little afraid of me.”
I chuckled. “Aren’t they all?”
“Yes,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “All bark and no bite. I want to be walking funny the next day. You’d think a cowboy would know how to deliver, but apparently not.”
“They do deliver. You just have to find the right one,” I said without thinking, pulling up the county’s land ordinances.
She smacked her hand on the table. “I knew it!”
I glanced up at her. “Knew what?”
She gave me a sly grin. “That Weston fucked.”
I snorted. “You’re awfully invested in Weston’s…tools and the way he uses them. Something you want to tell me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Weston is like a brother. I just want you to be getting good dick, that’s all. I know how uptight you can be.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And you’ve got a sort of…pinched look to your face.”
I gasped, laughing. “You’re such an asshole!”
She just shrugged a shoulder, smirking. “I know he’d be more than willing to help you sort that out.”
I knew he would, too, and that eagerness had me squirming in my seat. It was nice to feel desired. Especially by a guy as attractive as Weston. A guy who’d landed magazine covers and ad campaigns based on looks alone.
He could’ve had anyone he wanted, yet he wanted me, and let me know any chance he could. It was exhilarating, empowering in a way I never thought possible.
It made me wonder why I was holding back.
As if on cue, my phone started ringing, Stewart’s name across the screen like a slap to the face. I had asked for space just four days ago. Did he not understand what that concept meant?
“Stewart?”
“Yep,” I said, turning my phone face down.
She let out a heavy breath. “I’m your best friend, so it’s my job to tell you when you’re being stupid, and you’re being stupid right now.”
“I’m not being stupid. I’m being practical.”
She grimaced, not impressed with my response. “Don’t think love and relationships are meant to be practical. Do you two negotiate terms before you fuck or something?”
“What? No!”
“You can’t keep dodging him, Savannah. It isn’t fair to him, you, or Weston. Does he even know about him?” I shook my head, shame keeping my mouth shut. “I know you’re torn and scared of making the wrong decision, but this is just…it’s ridiculous.”
I slumped in my chair, unable to look at her. “I know,” I said quietly.
“You say you know, but you’re not doing anything. You’re escaping and avoiding with work like you always do. And while we’re all grateful that you’re working your ass off to protect Golden Circle, it shouldn’t come at the cost of multiple people’s happiness.”
“I’m scared, okay?” My voice cracked with the words. “If I end things with Stewart, there’s no going back. And if I start things with Weston again, it’ll consume me. I barely made it out last time. What if it doesn’t work out again? I won’t survive it.”
Her eyes searched mine, soft with empathy. “Do you love Stewart?”
I thought back to our phone call, to two years of near-silent dinners and plastering on smiles for events, boring sex, and wondering when things would get better, when the spark we had at the very beginning would come back. My stomach twisted. “I don’t think so. Not the way I should.”
“Then why are you dragging things out and making it worse for everyone involved?”
Before I could tell her how big of a coward I was, my phone rang again. “Jesus Christ,” I groaned, getting ready to tell Stewart off, but it was an unknown number.
I frowned at the phone. “It’s an unknown number.”
“I always send them to voicemail.”
I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Savannah, hi, it’s Preston Hollis.” His voice was conniving and too polite. It set me on edge and enraged me at the same time.
I rolled my eyes. “What the hell do you want, Preston?” Delilah’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“I’m calling to urge you to tell your sister and her boyfriend to reconsider our offers to buy their land. As their lawyer, you know how far we can take this; our pockets run much deeper than theirs.”
My eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”
“Take it however you like. You’re a smart woman, Savannah. And while this whole Golden Circle project is admirable, it’s a waste of your talents.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I snapped. “Do your worst, Preston. We aren’t going anywhere, and you can go tell that to your grandfather after you’re done licking the bottom of his boots.”
I hung up and tossed my phone onto the table, letting out a heavy breath. I knew then this was far from over, and all these little lawsuits were just the tip of the iceberg.
“I need a drink,” I grumbled.
“I can arrange that,” Delilah said with a wicked grin. “What are you doing tonight?”
The bass at the Bull Pen reverberated through my bones, each note unfurling the mess in my head with the help of the tequila Delilah kept shoving down my throat.
She was dressed in a baby tee that said ‘cowboy pillows’ across the chest and cutoffs.
While I had on a black tank top and a mini skirt she forced me to wear.
The place was crowded with out-of-towners all here for a rodeo in the next town over, and I couldn’t help but think of Weston. Would he have competed if he hadn’t been hurt?
I tossed back another shot to shut up the nagging guilt. He told me not to feel guilty, that it was his fault, but I couldn’t help it. And to know that he was worried he’d never ride for Pbr again? I shook my head, forcing the thought away.
I took my phone out of my back pocket and stared at the text Delilah helped me send to Stewart before we came here.
It was polite, to the point, and there was no possible way that he could misunderstand that I was breaking up with him.
My heart hadn’t steadied since I hit send, still waiting for his response. But it was done, it had to be.
It just felt a little immature that I had done it through text, but I didn’t really have another choice. I wasn’t going back to Dallas anytime soon, and I couldn’t let myself suffer over it anymore.
“Hey there,” a low voice said next to me.
I put my phone in my pocket and turned, finding a pair of dark eyes and a warm smile. He was tall, dark, and handsome, if not a few years younger than me, dressed in the usual cowboy getup. “Hi, yourself.”
“I’ve been watchin’ you all night, and I just gotta say I think you’re gorgeous.”
I felt nothing, but smiled anyway. “Thanks.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I glanced down at the counter I was leaning against and the tray of shot glasses Delilah coerced some poor soul into buying for us. “I’m covered, thanks though.”
His smile wilted a little, and I felt a twinge of guilt. “Want one?”
“Only if you do one with me,” he said, rebounding quickly.
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
The tequila sent a wave of warmth through me, and I scanned the small bar, looking for Delilah. She was on the dance floor with another cowboy, grinning as his hands slid around her waist.
“A lot of you guys are here tonight,” I said, glancing over at my companion. “What’s your event?”
“How’d you know?”
“I know a cowboy when I see one,” I said, gesturing to his hat. “And I haven’t seen you here before, so…” I shrugged.
He grinned. “Beauty and brains, I like it.” He leaned in close enough for me to smell his cologne as he whispered, “I’m a bull rider.”
I fought the urge to ask if he knew Weston. “That right? So you took Whiplash for a spin then?” I asked, gesturing to the mechanical bull in the corner of the bar.
“That thing threw me off in two seconds,” he laughed. “I’m Dylan, by the way.”
“Savannah,” I replied, holding out my hand.
He took it and pulled me out onto the dance floor. I let out a shocked laugh. Okay, I had to admit that was smooth. Or maybe I was just drunk. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care.
“You have a nice laugh.” Dylan pulled me close. His hands felt wrong, but he didn’t seem to be dangerous, so I stayed. It was harmless fun, as Delilah would’ve said.
“Thanks.” I scrambled for something to say. “I like your hat.”
He plucked it off his head and placed it on mine. “Looks better on you,” he said, his voice lowering.
I was getting ready to give it back to him, not wanting to send the wrong message that I was interested, when I got hauled off the floor. “What the—” the words died on my tongue when I came face to face with a livid Weston.
“I know you know what that means, Savannah, so what the hell are you doing wearing another man’s hat?” he growled, his hand shaking where it was wrapped around my bicep.
“Holy shit, you’re Weston Tate,” Dylan gasped next to us, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Weston, trying to formulate words.
He was here, here at the Bull Pen, touching me.
He ripped the hat off my head and slammed it into Dylan’s chest, making him stagger back. “Yeah, so why the fuck is your hat on my girl?”
Dylan’s eyes went wide, face leeching color. “Shit, sorry man, I didn’t know.” He put his hat back on. “Think I could get an autograph?”
“Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret,” he warned, and my lips parted with a shaky breath at this possessive side of him. I’d never seen anything like it.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, still trying to process the sight of him.
His face tightened. “What am I—what are you doing here?” He glanced around the bar, streaks of blue and purple and white lights dancing across his face. “This isn’t your scene.”
I scowled up at him. “How do you know? For all you know, I could be a party girl who does drugs in the bathroom and sleeps with anyone who smiles at her.” I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “You don’t know me anymore, Weston, so stop pretending you do!”
He took a step towards me, eyes dark with rage. “Like hell I don’t,” he said, voice low. “I know you better than anyone ever has, than anyone ever could.”
My jaw tightened, furious that he embarrassed me like that.
I wasn’t a child who needed to be looked after.
But I was angrier that he was right, that he did know me.
“I can’t believe you did that. Do you know how humiliating that was?
You storming in here like you own me, calling me your girl. I don’t belong to you!”
He took my hand in his, pulling me to him until our bodies were flush. My breath caught as I collided with him and braced myself with a hand on his chest. The heat that radiated off him made my head spin.
He cradled the side of my face, making me tilt back to look at him. “The fuck you don’t. You’ve been mine since you were sixteen years old and made me fall in love with you. You’re mine just as much as I’m yours, and it’s time for you to admit it.”
My chest tightened. The tequila, the crowd, Weston’s hands on me.
It was too much. I shoved him off me, the walls closing in.
I forced my way through the crowd until I was outside, the air cool against my overheated skin.
I went to the side of the building, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
Weston wasn’t far behind, throwing open the doors. “Savannah!” he yelled, but stopped short when he rounded the corner. All the frustration disappeared when he saw me hunched over, worry taking its place. “You okay, angel?”
“Couldn’t breathe,” I panted. He rested a hand on my shoulder, and I smacked it away and straightened. “I can’t breathe with you constantly crowding me.” A wounded look crossed his face. “Can’t breathe with you looking at me like that, like you still love me.”
“But I do, Sav. You know I do.”
“Just stop!” I yelled, and his eyes widened, startled.
“Everywhere I look, you’re there. Every conversation I have, you get brought up.
Every time I have sex with someone, I compare them to you.
I can’t even sleep without dreaming about you anymore.
I can’t escape you, Weston. You’re suffocating me, and I can’t take it anymore! ”
His eyes hardened. His face a mix of hurt and anger.
“If you want me out of your life so damn bad, then fine. But I’m not giving you the easy way out, you have to say it.
” He stalked towards me. “You have to look me in the eye, and tell me you want nothing to do with me, and you better fucking mean it.”
I shook my head and let out a frustrated whimper. “You aren’t getting it.” I cradled his face in my shaking hands and crashed my lips to his, unable to take it anymore.
Weston’s back met the wall roughly with the force of me, and his hands instantly wrapped around my body, groaning low and deep into the kiss.
And I was completely lost and overwhelmed with the feeling of finally coming home.