Chapter 4
FOUR
SAVANNA
The lunch rush is well underway as I look out Salty’s oversized windows and glimpse the outdoor deck filling up with customers and presumably drink orders. I tighten my ponytail at the roots, grabbing a glass off the floating shelf behind me to make a classic old-fashioned for one of my regulars.
When I spin back around, I see Hudson out of the corner of my eye walk into Salty’s.
I raise my eyebrow in question at my brother—wondering why he’s here in the middle of a workday—but quickly lower it when I see who’s trailing slowly behind his tall frame.
The familiar face has me frozen. The only thing snapping me out of my trance is the feeling of wetness coating my skin.
Glancing down, I see the bourbon I was pouring into a shot glass—puddling the bar top.
A seven-dollar shot, right down the drain.
Damnit.
Reaching for a towel to clean up my mess, I continue to track the unforgettable face weaving through the bar alongside Hudson. Panic erupts inside of me as they get closer. My body immediately tenses at the sight of him.
Dalton Hayes is here at Salty Sailors.
My brother’s best friend.
The guy I lost my virginity to my senior year of high school.
Shit.
I swallow down the pancakes and two cups of Americano I had for breakfast this morning, which is rising in my throat as my heart flutters erratically in my chest. Feeling as though I’m watching this moment in slow motion, warmth immediately creeps into my cheeks—spreading flush against my skin.
After what feels like a lifetime, Hudson finally makes his way to the bar and pulls out the stool in front of me, taking a seat. He’s dressed in his embroidered Coach Davis athletic jacket—his signature daytime look—telling me he’s been at the school coaching.
“Hey, baby sis. Look who finally came back to the island to grace us with his presence,” Hudson says in a cheery greeting, hiking his thumb behind him toward Dalton.
Dalton freezes, practically running into Hudson’s back as he takes me in, working behind the bar—the look on his face is stunned.
My eyes widen as I take in the familiar worn navy blue and red baseball hat that’s pulled low on Dalton’s forehead—the familiar look I spent so much of my youth fantasizing about, permanently etched into my brain.
Out of all the people I could imagine walking into Salty’s on a random Tuesday afternoon, it certainly wouldn’t be him.
Not after six years.
Sensing my rigid body, Dalton finally moves out of Hudson’s shadow, dragging the barstool out next to him before taking his seat. The scrape against the tile sends a chill down my spine.
Swallowing hard, I keep my head low as I try to concentrate on the orange garnish I’m peeling in my hand—too afraid to look up at my childhood crush turned stranger in front of me.
I finally open my mouth to acknowledge my brother. “Hey Hudson, what are you doing here in the middle of the workday?” I pause. “Dalton…nice to see you.” My voice comes out high-pitched, trying to shake off the butterflies that have planted roots low in my belly.
Keep it together, Savanna.
“Savanna…” Dalton says smoothly before taking a pause. “It’s sure been a while.”
The sound of his rough voice makes my heart rate spike, making my toes curl in my Chucks, betraying me.
Quickly unclenching them, I’m hit with the realization that this is the same guy who practically vanished from the island six years ago.
After he made me a promise that he would come home to Tybee to visit after his thirteen-week Marine Corps training was over, but didn’t.
My attention shifts when Hudson rotates on his barstool, slapping Dalton on the back. “Dalton’s home on leave for a bit, so I thought I would take the rest of the day off and buy him a drink to celebrate. I have to treat this hometown hero somehow.”
The rise in Hudson’s voice almost overtakes the eighties music playing in the background. His face lights up as he continues, “Fuck. I still can’t believe you’re here for three weeks, man.”
My heart flatlines. Three weeks?
My eyes meet Dalton’s from across the counter—the clear-blue eyes I know so intimately well study me.
Did Hudson say Dalton was going to be on the island for three weeks?
Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I try to ignore the way Dalton tracks my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. “Right. Well, what can I get you guys?” I ask, directing all my attention to Hudson.
“Two cold beers, sis.”
Nodding, I grab two chilled bottles. Popping the crown tops off, I slide two coasters in front of them as I place the beers down with shaky hands—praying Hudson doesn’t notice.
He may be oblivious to the sudden tension, but Dalton certainly isn’t.
Because his focus is set on me, his eyebrows pinch together as he watches me, not listening to a damn word Hudson is telling him about his new job as an Athletic Director.
Trying my best to ignore Dalton’s sudden presence, I continue with my drink orders—focusing on the stainless-steel tumbler that is now shaking in my hands.
I pay special attention to the sound of the ice cubes clinking together against the metal, and not the way Dalton’s eyes track me as I pour the contents of the tumbler into a glass.
Averting my eyes, but failing, I catch a glimpse of Dalton’s clenched fist on the counter, turning white with splotches of red from how hard he’s squeezing them. I pour the contents of the tumbler into a highball glass—sneaking a peek at Dalton out of the corner of my peripheral.
The new Dalton in front of me looks good.
Really good.
He looks different than the last time I saw him.
His six-foot-two height feels even more imposing after years spent training in the Marines.
His oversized body engulfs the wooden barstool, like he’s sitting on a piece of dollhouse furniture.
My eyes trace the outline of clear-cut muscles straining against his white tee, pulled taut, making my stomach flip.
Bitterness quickly sets in as I stare at his biceps—wishing I had time to myself as a single mother to spend working out at the gym like this guy clearly does. A feeling of resentfulness consumes me in this moment as I stare at him—at least one of us gets to indulge in some self-care.
My eyes secretly continue to roam over Dalton’s body, snagging on his arms and trailing down his colorful sleeve of tattoos.
Yeah, he didn’t have those when he left for basic.
I distinctly remember the night Dalton’s arms were wrapped around my body six years ago, and they were most definitely tattoo-free.
Twisted knots begin to intertwine in my gut, because if I didn’t think Dalton Hayes was the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen before he left me high and dry, I most certainly do now.
And that realization is dangerous.
Like he knows I’m fantasizing about him. His voice tugs me back to the rustic beach bar I’m standing in. “How’ve you been, Sav?” He brings the frosted bottle to his mouth, taking a slow sip. The sound of the bottle popping from his lips sends a warning message to my core.
Electricity courses through my body at the sound of my nickname rolling off his tongue as his eyes stay locked on mine—waiting for my reply.
Taking a deep breath, I plaster on a smile. “Great, Dalton. Thanks so much for asking. I’m just wonderful.” My tone is fake and unconvincing.
Dalton’s jaw ticks as he winces at his beer, like I’ve struck a nerve. His attention shifts to the damp label of his bottle as he peels it off with his fingers—shredded bits of paper now accumulating on the bar top.
Completely unaware of the tension radiating between Dalton and me, Hudson chimes in, “Dalton is just visiting for a few weeks to help his mom get her house ready to sell.” He bumps his elbow into Dalton’s side.
“Just like old times, buddy. I say we take your dad’s old boat out after this.
I bet I can still out-fish your ass.” A bright smile beams from Hudson’s face as if he’s a kid on Christmas morning.
Meanwhile, all it takes is one look at Dalton’s rigid posture and indecisive face to know he doesn’t share the same Christmas morning joy as Hudson.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I fold the rag in front of me into little squares. “I wasn’t aware Anne was selling,” I say nonchalantly, trying my best to ignore the news that the guy who broke my heart is going to be in the same zip code as me for the next three weeks.
“Yeah.” Dalton shrugs, chugging the rest of his beer before slamming it down on the counter in front of me. His heated gaze stays locked on me the entire time. “She is.”
“Well then. I guess we will be running into each other around the island,” I say, turning around, clearly flustered. There’s no way I can get pulled back into the vortex that is Dalton Hayes.
“Hell yeah, you will be. I have big plans for this guy. I’m not letting him out of my sight. Shit, I can’t wait to tell Sanders you're back in town!” I hear Hudson say over my shoulder. A familiar grunt falls from Dalton’s mouth—making my thighs clench.
Get it together, Savanna.
Removing myself from their conversation, I glance at the pirate ship clock hanging along Salty’s back wall, noting the thirty minutes I have left of my shift before I leave to pick up Drew.
I keep my back facing Dalton and Hudson as I continue to work.
I need to stay occupied.
And I need to make sure that I don’t run into Dalton Hayes these next few weeks.