Chapter 6
Savannah
The van ambles steadily along the winding road, its engine purring like a contented cat. The dashboard sports old-fashioned knobs, and the upholstery is well worn. The thing is ancient, easily two decades old, but it’s running smoother than some of the luxury cars I used to work on back in Miami. Either someone’s been giving this van a lot of love, or it’s built like a tank. My money’s on the former.
“Nice ride,” I say, breaking the silence.
Todd glances at me, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “Thanks. She’s got a few years on her, but she’s solid. Mel’s cousins, the MacAllisters, run the local garage, and they keep her in top shape for us.”
That makes sense. I nod, letting my fingers brush the edge of the seat. “Shows. Not a lot of vans this old that still purr like that. They must know what they’re doing.”
“They do,” Todd says with a grin. “It’s a small-town perk—Grady, Finn, and Callum take pride in keeping things running, even if that thing has seen better days.”
I smirk, leaning back into my seat. The heater’s finally starting to do its job, but the chill still clings to me. It doesn’t help that Todd’s coat is open, and Colton’s sitting in a damn T-shirt, his arms crossed over that tattooed chest of his like the cold doesn’t even exist. Clearly, they are men built for this weather.
I tug my jacket tighter around me, trying to ignore the strange warmth spreading through my chest when Todd turns the heat up another notch.
“Better?” He throws me a quick look.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I mutter, grateful but unwilling to let it show too much.
Todd’s grin widens, but he says nothing, and the silence stretches between us as the town comes into view. At least, when you can call a handful of buildings a town.
“There’s the B&B.” Todd points ahead.
The bed and breakfast is impossible to miss. The Victorian house stands proud at the end of the main street, its pale blue siding and crisp white trim glowing in the soft winter light. The wraparound porch is lined with wooden rocking chairs, and the curved turret at the corner gives it an almost whimsical feel. It’s straight out of a storybook, the kind of place that practically screams “cozy.”
I want to hate it. I should. Danny’s dead. His dad, too. And I’m here, breathing in this cozy warmth like I didn’t spend that day cowering in a damn car while they bled out on the shop floor. I should be miserable. I should be suffering. But this place—it’s perfect—and I hate that I love it.
The front door opens as the van pulls to a stop, and a woman steps onto the porch, waving. She’s tall and curvy, with dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her deep red cardigan standing out against the house’s muted tones. A man follows her, shorter but as poised. His easy smile lights up his face and the corners of his eyes crinkle behind wire-rimmed glasses as he rests a hand on her lower back.
“Those are Diana and Elliot,” Todd says, shutting down the van. “They run the place.”
I grab my suitcase, duffel bag, and backpack from the back of the van, fumbling slightly with the weight. Todd reaches out to help, but I shake my head, tightening my grip. “I’ve got it.”
The hosts meet us at the edge of the porch, holding hands. The woman leans into the man as she talks, and he glances at her with a look so full of affection it’s almost uncomfortable to witness.
“Welcome.” The woman holds out her hand and smiles invitingly. “You must be Savannah. I’m Diana and I’m your hostess. We heard about your little adventure. I hope you’re feeling better now?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I wish I could match the warmth in Diana’s voice, but the best I manage is something that passes for polite. “Just glad to be here.”
Elliot steps forward, reaching for my bags. “Let me help with those.”
I put up a token protest which Elliot ignores.
“Come on in. The wind is blistering. We’ve got your room all set up. Diana will show you.”
“And don’t worry about your rental,” Diana adds as she ushers me toward the porch. “Cal and Finn towed it in earlier. They and Grady will have that little thing up and running in no time.”
My head is spinning with all the names. The ease with which she talks is strangely unsettling. I hardly know these people, and yet they’re already solving my problems like I’m part of some extended family. It’s... different. Unnervingly different. Back in Miami, I barely knew my neighbors, and here’s this small-town couple acting like they’ve known me for years.
As Diana leads me inside, I steal a glance back at the town. The quiet street, the snow-dusted trees, the faint peal of laughter from somewhere nearby—it’s all so different from Miami, where car horns and shouting were a constant backdrop. Here, the silence is heavy, like it’s waiting for me to do something with it.
* * *
Todd
I leave Savannah in Diana’s and Elliot’s capable hands, her expression adorably befuddled. “See you around,” I call over my shoulder, but she doesn’t respond, still taking in the house as Diana ushers her inside.
I head back to the van, shaking my head as I climb in. For someone who’s had a rough night, she’s handling things better than I expected. I like the way her eyes lit up when she talked about engines. As contrary as it makes her, I also enjoyed the stubborn set of her jaw when I tried to help with her bags. What will it take to make her yield and let a man take charge?
Get a grip, Todd.
The drive to the MacAllisters’ garage is barely a mile from Main Street. Their place is like everything else in Northwick Cove—simple, multi-functional, and full of character. The garage sits at the end of a gravel driveway, its large bay doors open to reveal several vehicles in various stages of disassembly.
Grady steps out as I park, wiping his hands on a rag that’s more grease than fabric. His wiry hair sticks out from beneath a faded baseball cap, and his grin widens as he spots me.
“Well, if it isn’t the young Turner brother.” He leans against the van’s hood. “What brings you by? Or should I say, who?”
I roll my eyes as I climb out. “The rental. How’s it looking?”
Grady smirks and heads into the garage. As I follow, I spot the little red car with its hood is popped open.
Grady tosses the rag onto a workbench. “You mean the Civic? It’s seen better days, that’s for sure. Reliable make, but someone’s been neglecting it. Alternator belt was shot to hell, and it took some things with it.”
“Can you get it running?”
“Course we can.” He pats the side of the car like it’s a stubborn horse. “But it’ll take a day or two to get a new belt here. I don’t have it in stock. Might take longer, depending on what else we find.”
Callum pipes up from under the red car’s hood. “This the one Mel said was for a stranded blonde?”
Grady grins as I let out a sigh. “Yeah, that one.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Callum straightens, brushing his hands on his overalls. He’s younger than Grady, with sharp blue eyes that twinkle with mischief. “Mel said she’s pretty. And knows her way around cars. That true?”
Something stirs deep in my chest—tight, prickly, and suspiciously close to jealous possessiveness. I force a casual shrug. “She’s... competent.”
Callum’s grin widens, and he leans his butt against the workbench. “Competent, huh? That why you’re looking a little territorial?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Watch it, Cal.” My tone is friendly, but there’s a weight to it that wipes the smirk from his face.
Grady barks out a laugh and claps me on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned. Todd Turner, getting possessive over a stranger. Is it like that?”
I don’t answer right away, my jaw tightening as I glance toward the rental. I mutter, “Yeah. It is.”
Grady’s grin stretches wider, and he slaps me on the back again. “Good for you. ’Bout time you settled down.”
“Like you lot are any younger,” I shoot back, shaking off his hand.
Grady chuckles, leaning against the workbench. “No, we’re not, and you know as well as I do, women—especially good ones we aren’t related to—are hard to come by around here.”
“Tell me about it.” I shift my weight, glancing toward the Civic. My thoughts drift, unbidden, to Savannah. Her sharp green eyes, the way she seemed more at home talking about engines than standing in a kitchen with a cup of coffee.
“You ever think Elliot, Mason, and Jack had the right idea?” I keep my tone casual.
Grady raises an eyebrow, and Callum pauses mid-motion, wiping his hands on his overalls.
“You mean...” Grady begins, his eyes narrowing.
I nod. “Sharing. With Colton, I mean. We’ve talked about it before, in passing.”
Grady barks out a laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned. You are thinking about a throuple? Remember the gossip and backlash from the aforementioned relationship, right?”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug. “Things have settled, and people aren’t giving them a hard time anymore.”
Callum snorts. “They’re too afraid of Mason.”
I grin. The man has quite the reputation. “True, but think about it. It makes sense. We’re already sharing everything else—the Spirit , the house. Why not a woman?”
Callum scratches his chin, his expression pensive. “You think she’d go for it? The woman, I mean. Savannah.”
I let out a long breath, leaning against the workbench. “I don’t know. She’s a tough read. Booked the B&B in advance, so she’s not just passing through, but she doesn’t strike me as the hiking, hunting, or fishing type. Maybe she’s into mushing huskies. Hell, I haven’t even asked her that.”
Grady smirks. “You are planning on asking her?”
“Eventually,” I mutter, glancing at the Civic. “If she’s sticking around, it’s worth knowing.”
Callum grins. “And if she’s handy with engines, send her our way. We could use another set of hands in the shop.”
Grady holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Todd. We won’t poach on your territory. But seriously, we’re way behind on maintenance and repairs as it is.” He gestures around the garage, where a half-disassembled tractor sits in one corner and an outboard motor is propped up against the wall. “You wouldn’t believe the backlog we’re dealing with.”
“Speaking of being behind”—I glance around—“where’s Finn?”
Grady waves a hand toward the back door. “Out at Karen Winters-Malloy’s place. Her boiler’s acting up again.”
I let out a low whistle. “That thing’s still running? I thought Finn told her to replace it last year.”
“He did,” Grady says, smirking. “But you know how Karen’s husband is. Frank Malloy doesn’t spend a dime unless it’s absolutely necessary. Stingy bastard.”
Callum chuckles. “I’d call him thrifty. Grady prefers stingy.”
“Whatever you call it,” Grady mutters, placing his hands on the corners of the bench and leaning back more comfortably, “it means Finn’s out there freezing his ass off trying to patch up a boiler that should’ve been replaced a decade ago.”
I shake my head. “Some people never learn.”
Grady grins. “You’re telling me. But hey, if Savannah sticks around and doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty, she might be the solution to a lot of our problems. Just saying.”
“Right.” I push off the workbench. “First, let’s get her damn car running. Then we’ll see about her sticking around.”
Grady laughs as I turn toward the van, his words trailing after me. “Just don’t let her get away, Todd. You get a chance like that, you don’t waste it. Around here, it might be years before the next one comes along.”