12. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Savannah
I feel like I’m trapped in a never-ending loop, reminiscent of that movie where the protagonist wakes up to the same day on repeat. That’s my life, every single day. The sound of my alarm jolts me awake, and I reluctantly drag myself out of bed to care for my daughter, Kenzi. The smell of her breakfast fills the air as I prepare it with a sense of routine.
Heading to work, I enter the bustling diner in a rush, realizing I’m a few minutes late. The clattering of plates and the sizzle of food on the grill have become comforting sounds.
“Order up, Savannah,” calls out Chet, one of our cooks.
I respond with a polite, “Thanks, Chet,” trying to maintain a sense of normalcy.
But suddenly, a new sound breaks through the familiar din. The creaking of the front door alerts me to someone’s arrival.
“Hey, Savannah, let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night,” Chet’s voice rings out, filled with a hint of desire .
His good looks are undeniable, and he has made it clear that he wants more than just friendship. However, before I can respond, a gruff voice interrupts, declaring, “She’s busy.”
Declan’s presence sends shockwaves through the room. Stunned by his anger and caught off guard by Chet’s boldness, I stand frozen, unable to find my voice.
Gathering my thoughts, I finally speak up. “Tomorrow night, I won’t be busy, but I’ll be at home with my daughter, Chet.” I try and fail to keep the tinge of regret from my words. Working extra shifts leaves me with little time to spend with Kenzi, and I cherish every moment I can get with her.
Desperate for an escape from the awkward tension, I seize the opportunity to deliver the food to its awaiting table. As I hurriedly make my way there, I use it as an excuse to leave the two men in their glaring standoff. However, I realize I can’t delay the inevitable any longer.
Walking over to the table where Declan has taken a seat, I can’t help but feel a mix of apprehension and curiosity about what he might say next.
“What can I get for you this morning?” I ask.
“Are you just going to stand there and act like I didn’t walk in on some asshole hitting on you?” We are locked in a piercing stare, both refusing to turn away. Declan’s expression is etched in anger and I’m not sure why.
I gasp, taken aback by his reaction. “I’m not sure what you mean or why it’s any of your business,” I reply, refusing to hide the frustration in my tone as my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Sensing the tension in the air, the room feels heavy with a pregnant silence, broken only by the distant clatter of someone in the kitchen dropping dishes. That’s how I know everyone in the restaurant is watching us. The flickering of the overhead lights cast an eerie glow on the diner, intensifying the sense of unease building around us.
As my words hang in the air, a faint scent of coffee wafts from the nearby kitchen, mingling with the scent of freshly fried bacon. My heart races and my palms grow clammy as I await Declan’s response.
With a smug grin, he leans in closer, his voice dripping with a mix of entitlement and possessiveness. “Savannah, everything about you is now my business, sweetheart.”
Staring wide-eyed at Declan, I’m unsure how to respond. Surely, he means because he owns the cabin I rent, or even worse, he thinks I’m a terrible mom and that he’s watching out for Kenzi. I’m a mess, but I’m not dumb enough to assume he cares, other than trying to watch out for an innocent kid with a basket case for a mother. “Look, I know you’re worried that I’m not mentally stable after the scene the other night, but I’m fine, honestly. My daughter is fine, too.”
“I know you are and even if you aren’t, you both will be now that I’m around.”
What does that mean? Is he watching my every move? What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I mean, I did act like a stark raving lunatic and these people clearly didn’t understand why. His gruff voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Give me your phone number, Savannah.”
I hesitate, my eyes darting nervously around the room, searching for an escape. “I don’t have one,” I finally stammer out, feeling the weight of his intense gaze upon me.
Declan’s eyes narrow; disbelief etched across his face.
“I won’t tolerate you lying to me,” he growls, his words laced with a dangerous edge. My heart skips a beat as his threat hangs heavy in the air. A rush of fear shoots through me, prickling my skin and sending shivers down my spine.
Drawing in a large gasp, I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, the burning sensation intensifying with each passing second. The tension in the room is palpable, suffocating almost. What is wrong with these men today? It seems like they are all off their rockers.
“Declan, I don’t have a cell phone.” I regain my composure, my voice trembling slightly as I reply. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be appropriate to give strange men my number.”
A smug smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m not a strange man, although I like you’re thinking.” He chuckles, the sound echoing in the room. “Don’t give any other men your number.”
“If you’re not ordering anything, then I need to go. I have other customers to serve.”
He picks up his phone and starts texting while I’m standing in front of him. I’m holding my little notepad with my pen in hand, ready to take his order, and the jackass is texting someone. Probably some woman he’s talking to.
The thought pisses me off, and I don’t know why. As I study him, I can admit the man is hot. He’s tall and bulky, with lots of muscle. He’s the hottest lumberjack that you can imagine, with all those tattoos, and even the flannel shirt adds to his sexiness. They should put Declan’s picture in the dictionary under the word lumberjack. I shake my head and remind myself, no matter how hot he is, I want nothing to do with men, especially one that is this grumpy and bossy.
Having jealous thoughts about a man is something I’ve never experienced before.
When Derek cheated, I was glad someone else was having to sleep with him, so I didn’t have to.
“Savannah, did you hear me?” Declan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I catch a whiff of his cologne—a subtle blend of musk and cedarwood, as it lingers in the air. Startled, I reply, “I’m sorry, what?”
He looks at me with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll take my coffee to go. I have an errand to run.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn on my heels to fetch his coffee. The clatter of my footsteps echoes through the quiet restaurant, reminding me all the busybody townspeople have stopped and are watching us. Wow, he didn’t waste any time. Going to see the woman he was texting already. What an asshole.
As I’m pouring his coffee, I stop myself; thinking this way isn’t fair to Declan. He doesn’t know me and is free to see all the women he wants. I have to keep reminding myself that men are off-limits to me. Declan has been the only man who has caused me to feel butterflies in years.
“Woman, don’t you roll those eyes. You are so close to getting a spanking.” Delivered in a low and husky voice, his words hang in the air.
What the hell? The man is nuts. I’m not sure why the thought of him spanking me is sending hot sensations straight to my core. My eyes widen, vaguely aware of all the curious eyes watching our interaction. However, I can’t tear my gaze away from him, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m sure my expression is odd considering his words are shocking to me.
Given my history, I should be terrified of being spanked, but my body is not reacting that way. I hurry on to grab the man his coffee so he can go meet whoever he’s texting. Trying to keep my emotions in check and hoping that Declan can’t read them, I approach the table with his coffee. He’s still enamored with whoever is texting him, and I can’t roll my eyes hard enough.
“What did I tell you about rolling those eyes at me, baby girl?”
Startled by his words, I didn’t think he was paying attention. My cheeks heat because I’ve been caught.
“Just trying to get your coffee to you so you can go see whoever is so important.”
At my admission, Declan chuckles, the sound of his laughter echoing through the bustling cafe. “What’s so funny, Lumberjack?” I quip, playfully teasing him.
“I am a lumberjack, so I guess it’s okay,” he replies with a grin, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “But I thought you would put more thought into a nickname for me.”
I shrug. “Why would I do that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“You seem to be jealous of whoever has my attention on the phone, so at least give me a better nickname,” he retorts, a touch of longing in his voice .
Oh my God. Is there a rock anywhere I can go crawl under and hide? My cheeks are on fire. This cocky bastard.
“I am not jealous. Just annoyed,” I hiss through gritted teeth, my heart pounding in my chest.
Without giving him a chance to reply, I hastily retreat from his table, the sound of my hurried footsteps echoing in the air. The scent of cologne lingering past my nose, adds to my growing frustration. The obnoxious laughter of the asshole reverberates in my ears, intensifying my desire to march right back and deliver a swift knee to his balls.