Chapter 8 #2
“What the hell?” My feet hit the stairs before I finish speaking because, sure enough, Moose is in a canoe, and he has a passenger.
“Savvy.” Her friend Clover waves excitedly, causing the canoe to rock and Moose to chuckle.
Moose is in good shape, but for fuck’s sake, he’s got to be close to seventy-five. What the hell is he doing, canoeing in floodwater with a passenger known for dramatics?
“Oh my God, Clover. What are you guys doing here?” Savvy bounces happily next to me, and I ignore the warmth that settles in my chest.
One of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met also has a vulnerability made of glass when it comes to loving and being loved.
Most people never see it, but I have from the moment I met her. She wants to be loved more than anything in the world. The kind of love that has no boundaries. The kind that makes you feel safe.
Only someone with the same affliction would be able to recognize it.
Moose gets the canoe as close to shore as he can, but he’s still a good twenty feet away from us.
“She had to see you for herself, or she’d keep making herself sick,” Moose says with a disapproving glower at Clover.
“Clove.” Sassy stands with her hands on her hips.
“Don’t you ‘Clove’ me. You knew better than to head out into this storm.”
I stand back and watch these two friends scold each other for doing different yet similarly stupid things.
“How ya doing, Greyson?” Moose’s voice is aged with wisdom. He’s not a big talker. Like me, he believes actions speak better than words, so when you do hear his voice, you’re compelled to listen.
My gaze instantly darts to his old workshop—or where it used to be.
When he sold me the property, it was with the condition that he could continue to putter around in there.
He makes furniture. Sometimes he just whittles wood and whistles, but it makes him feel close to his deceased wife, and it’s not something I ever wanted to take from him.
It’s why I was putting in an elevator and renovating the second floor into an apartment. He has arthritis in his hips, and he won’t be able to live on his own forever. I wanted him to be where he’s happiest.
“I should have had Cian reinforce your workshop, Moose. I’m—I’m sorry.”
“You’re doing it again.” He tuts. “Everything in the universe is not your responsibility to control, handle, or fix. Ya can’t control a hurricane any more than you can control the chemistry blazing between you two knuckleheads.”
Savvy smirks up at me, and I think my face flushes. What the fuck?
“Trust me, Moose. It’s not chemistry, it’s a nuclear bomb.” At some point, Savvy has turned me into a ventriloquist—my words are clear as day as they hiss through my clenched jaw.
He shrugs, his face hidden behind his giant beard, but I get the impression he’s smiling.
“We brought you some supplies.” He lifts a large Styrofoam cooler and places it in the water. He’s attached a rope to it, which Clover hangs on to while he gently pushes it toward us. Then he puts a smaller one in, attaches it to the same rope, and nudges it toward us.
“What’s this?” Savvy asks. She’s way too excited about these packages.
“Some fresh fruit, a couple of sandwiches, and alcohol.” Clover laughs. “Braxton’s still worried about you killing each other. He figured if you were tipsy, you’d have a better chance of survival.”
“How did you even get through the downed trees?” I ask, hip-checking Savvy out of the way and wading into the murky water to reach the delivery.
“Not my first rodeo, son. I’ve been through worse.” Something tells me my friend Moose has a life story that would make Hollywood froth at the mouth.
“How long until the water drains?”
“No tellin’. My guess is a couple of days, but the mud and sediment it’ll leave behind will be the real issue.”
“Great.” My eyes narrow in on his canoe. “Wait. Take Savannah with you.”
Clover bites her bottom lip and stares at the murky water as if she’s searching for a mermaid. Knowing her, she probably is.
“No room,” Moose says, even though he just emptied two coolers from it. “No offense, Sav, but we’re close to weight capacity with the two of us in here.”
My bedmate shrugs as if she expected that answer.
“Well, can you drop Clover off and then come back for her?”
“Jesus, Grey. Your desperation to get rid of me is charming.” Her eyes sparkle with mirth, and I’m right back to my mental hate list.
I hate that even when she’s aggravating, she’s beautiful.
Hauling one of the coolers to dry land, I lower my voice so only she can hear. “Charming has never been an aspiration of mine. But getting rid of you? It’s in my prayers every thirty seconds.”
Her lashes flutter, and she swallows hard.
And now I feel like an asshole. This is why I put space between us. I can’t trust her anymore, and apparently, I can’t trust myself to be a goddamn adult in her presence either.
“Can you do that, Moose?” she asks, but her glare never wavers from mine.
“Either of you ever been in a canoe before?” my old friend asks.
A delicate line appears between Savvy’s eyebrows as we stare at each other. I shake my head. When would I have ever been in a canoe? It’s not like my father was putting me in outdoor clubs or taking me fishing when I was a kid.
“No,” Savvy answers for us both.
“Well, it’s a weight issue. Can’t have just one person in a two-person canoe or we’d go around in circles.”
Something in his tone is off. Is he trying not to laugh? If I had cell service, I’d be googling the shit out of that answer, but we’re literally stranded on an island right now.
“Is that true?” I ask, trudging back into the water, hoping I don’t get some weird staph infection as I pull the second cooler to shore.
“’Course it is. Well, I gotta get Clover back. I’ll come check on ya again tomorrow, long as the water’s still high enough.”
“And if it’s not?” Savvy asks.
“Then we’ll start working on getting some mudrunners up through here.”
“Madi threw in some condoms too…just in case.” Clover laughs while Moose turns them loose in the water.
“Unnecessary, Clover.” My words sound a little like when Sage had whooping cough as a baby.
“Don’t growl at her.” Savvy swats my chest, her skin hitting mine with the intensity of static magnified by a trillion. “They just want us to get along, Grey. Like it or not, our families are now forever connected.”
Before I can stop her, she lifts the larger of the two coolers and stomps back toward the house.
Stubborn. Sexy. Seductive. Sassy. Snarky.
Savannah Monroe has turned me into a walking thesaurus—a thesaurus that follows her like a baby duckling.
I’m so screwed.