Chapter 20
Savannah
Almost two weeks have passed since our trip to Bangor, and something inside me has settled.
I feel more secure and less edgy. Partly, my state of mind is because living in a Northwick Cove has slowed my pace, but mainly, it’s because of the brothers.
The nightmares don’t come as often anymore. And if I wake from a bad dream, I’m warm and safe, and wrapped in steady arms. They don’t make a fuss but lull me back to sleep. Or fuck me senseless until I sleep like the dead.
The rental is fixed, but I barely touch it now. It sits in the B&B parking lot, gathering dust while I split my time between the garage and the Sea Spirit . Even though I loathe the early mornings, I love being out on the water with the brothers, watching dawn break over the endless horizon.
I love spending time with my men—in and out of bed.
Are they mine?
I don’t let myself dwell on the question.
Instead, I focus on the present. On the ancient Pontiac in front of me, its hood popped open. Its rusted frame groans in protest as I coax it into submission. The damn thing has more history than most people in this town, and it’s fighting me every step of the way.
I’m elbow deep in grease when the garage door swings open and boots scuff the concrete floor.
I glance up and—damn.
They grow them good-looking here.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying himself with the kind of easy confidence that says he knows exactly what he wants and usually gets it. The early afternoon light catches on wavy brown hair that just touches his collar. He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place him.
“Good morning.” I wipe my hands on a rag, flashing him a polite smile. “How can I help you?”
His expression sours. “Where are the MacAllisters?”
Well, good morning to you, too.
I arch a brow but keep my tone even. “Out and about.”
“Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.
I push back from the engine, crossing my arms. “What’s wrong?”
His mouth tightens. “Nothing you can help me with.”
“No?” I straighten, irritation creeping in. “Since you’re here, I’m guessing it’s something mechanical that needs fixing. I’m a mechanical engineer, so I’m your woman.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. “Nah, you’re not my type.”
I roll my eyes and throw up my hands. “Whatever, man. I wasn’t hitting on you. I’m just trying to be helpful. But by all means, stand here and wait for Grady or his brothers.”
I turn back to the engine, muttering under my breath about stubborn, suspicious men, when he speaks. Too close for comfort this time.
“Does Duke Grayson know you’re working on his car?”
The question catches me off guard, and I startle, bumping my head against the hood. “Fuck!” I whirl around, rubbing the sore spot, and glare at him. “Do you have to sneak up on a girl like that?”
He lifts his hands in mock innocence. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Yeah? Well, you did.” I place my hands on my hips, leveling him with a look. “Listen, mister?—”
“Samuel Whitaker,” he interjects. “Sam.”
“Okay, Sam, you’re really starting to piss me off.”
One of his brows kicks up, amused, and I scowl harder.
“I know my way around engines. And while you might not know me, you know the MacAllisters. You trust their reputation and skills, right?”
He exhales, rubbing his jaw. “Guess so.”
“Then why the hell would they hire me if I couldn’t tell a carburetor from an alternator?”
Silence stretches between us before his lips quirk at the corner. “Okay, fair point.”
“Damn right it is.”
He lifts his hands again, but this time in surrender. “All right, all right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I narrow my eyes, but his posture is open now, less guarded. Reluctantly, I nod. “Apology accepted. Now, what’s the problem?”
His head tilts as he studies me. “You’re resilient. No wonder the MacAllisters like you.”
I frown, not sure what to make of that.
“Our generator’s acting weird. Power’s been flickering in and out for two days.”
I consider that. “Sounds like a Finn job, but he’s at the B&B fixing their dishwasher. You want me to take a look?”
“You think you can fix it?”
My scowl returns, and his hands go up again, fast.
“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. If you think you can help, then please, yes.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “Give me a sec to tell Grady, and I’ll go with you.”
As I wipe my hands and turn toward the office, I can still feel his eyes on me.
Yeah, buddy. Keep doubting me.
You’ll see soon enough.
* * *
Todd
Several days have passed since Bangor, and it has been like a dream, because I’m positive now—we’re in an actual relationship.
And it’s not only the sex, though that’s off the charts. It’s everything.
Savannah is less guarded, and Colton is more open. Somehow, we’ve found a rhythm that works for us.
Our starling has settled in like there was a Savannah-sized slot vacant between us. She is also settling into small-town living, like she’s always lived here.
Three days a week, she works at the garage. On the other days, she’s with us—on the Sea Spirit , helping with the catch and handling merchants. The way she navigates every part of our lives, like she’s always been meant to be here, still blows my mind.
I never expected a woman like Savannah.
She’s sharp, capable, and stubborn as hell. She keeps up with us without hesitation. She challenges us, pushes back when she needs to, and balances us in ways I didn’t even know we needed. And she’s gorgeous in her submission.
I grow hard at the thought of that.
I believe that Colton is still holding back, a little. But every day, he lets more of himself show. The true Colton, the one with a quiet, commanding dominance that Savannah responds to like it’s woven into her DNA, comes more and more to the forefront. And I love watching them.
I also love participating.
They are right for each other, but I don’t feel like a third wheel. Not at all.
I balance them, and I love them. Both of them.
Today’s one of Savannah’s garage days, which means Colton and I have time to ourselves. We are not planning to waste that time and head into the grocery store. We have plans to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. Over the past few days, we’ve learned that Savannah’s idea of cooking is heating up something in the microwave.
I don’t mind. I like cooking. And with everything she’s done—fixing the washing machine, tightening the faucets, and handling other repairs we hadn’t even realized needed doing, she’s a valued and productive member of our household. By fixing Colton’s broken heart, she has earned ten years of cooking from me.
We’re debating what cut of meat to get when Henry Lawson’s familiar voice rasps from behind the counter.
“She’s a helluva mechanic, I’ll tell you that much,” he says. “Generator’s been flickering for days. Sam says she took one look at it and figured out the problem.”
Colton and I exchange grins before stepping around the isle.
Elliot is packing a grocery bag and nodding along.
“That’s our woman,” I say, unable to hide the pride in my voice.
Elliot grins and stops what he’s doing to push his glasses up his noise.
Henry turns, raising a bushy eyebrow. “Yours? She’s with one of you?”
Colton nods, casual as anything. “She’s with both of us.”
Henry whistles low, shaking his head. “I’ll be damned. Guess you two are followin’ the example set by Jack, Mason, and Elliot, huh?”
He nods at Elliot, who now looks like a Cheshire Cat.
“Diana figured you would.” Elliot resumes packing.
“You’re really doing this?” Henry leans forward and braces his elbows on the till.
“Yes, we are.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Henry mutters, “Damn it.”
I frown. “What?”
“No, nothing. Sam thought—” He shakes his head. “Well, whatever. Ain’t my business. Least it’s good to have another mechanic in town.”
Henry isn’t one for gossip, so I let the comment slide. Instead, we tell him about everything Savannah’s done—the small, meticulous repairs around the house, the way she fixed the Sea Spirit .
By the time we leave the store, arms loaded with bags, I bump Colton’s shoulder. “You realize we just made it real clear we’re… serious about her?”
“We did.” His grin is wide, satisfied—until it suddenly isn’t. His expression shifts, turning pensive, like a delayed realization is settling in. Then he slaps his forehead. “Fuck. We messed up.”
I frown. “How?”
“We should’ve talked to her first.”
Shit.
We were so sure, so damn settled in what we wanted, we didn’t even stop to think.
Colton mutters a curse under his breath, already striding toward the van. “Let’s go home and fix that oversight—as soon as possible!”