Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
DALTON
It’s been two days since I’ve seen Savanna, and since then, I have been walking around in a post-orgasmic bliss.
To say Savanna gives a good blowjob would be an understatement.
She gives amazing, mind-blowing, toe-curling blowjobs.
The kind you dream about, night after night, waiting for the next one—and that’s exactly what I find myself doing.
I’m in the middle of daydreaming about Savanna’s mouth while working on replacing drywall in the guest bathroom when suddenly, my post-orgasmic bliss bubble is popped.
How is Savanna so good at giving blowjobs?
Has she had a lot of practice? Does she do this all the time?
I want to murder all the fucking guys who have ever had the experience of Savanna’s plush pink mouth on them.
Every. Single. One.
Fuck.
Slamming the drill onto the construction table, I take my baseball hat off my head and rake my fingers through my hair, wanting to rip it out. The muscles in my shoulders go taut as I let out a curse under my breath. I don’t like this feeling, or this realization.
Not. One. Fucking. Bit.
Maybe I can put all this Marine combat training to use. I can be fucking stealthy.
Those other douchebags wouldn’t even see me coming. I could take them all out.
If there’s one thing I know after my day with Savanna on Sunday, it’s that she’s fucking mine. She may not realize it yet, and I don’t know how it’s going to be possible with my career in the military, but somehow, I’ll find a way to make sure she doesn’t go near another man’s cock again.
She can only have mine.
The productive mood I’ve been riding for the last two days—patching drywall and knocking out repairs—has evaporated. Do I want to keep fixing drywall all day? Nope. I’m a grumpy motherfucker now, and all I want is Savanna.
I’m fucking fiending for her.
Unfortunately, our schedules refuse to cooperate this week. She’s been busy bartending at Salty’s, then had dinner with her parents to celebrate Drew’s Student of the Week award. After that, it was chores. And tonight? Girls’ night with Hailey, which is apparently a once-a-month thing.
I scratch the scruff that’s forming along my jaw.
Wait. Is she avoiding me?
I grunt, taking the tool belt off my hips and tossing it onto the ground.
I’m hungry, and it’s lunchtime. Salty’s Sailors has some delicious burgers. And it also happens to employ a stunning blonde—one who I’m now realizing is intentionally avoiding me.
When I walk into Salty’s, Savanna’s behind the bar, laughing as she mixes a drink—head tipped back, long blonde ponytail brushing the middle of her back, a smile lighting up her face. The sound of her laughter ricochets off the industrial hanging lights, landing like a bullet to my chest.
Upon closer inspection, I spot Sanders perched on the barstool in front of Savanna, telling one of his animated stories—hand flailing like he’s trying to flag down a goddamn taxi in midtown Manhattan.
Fucking Sanders.
Then I notice another guy to the right of Sanders.
Blue business suit. Slicked-back blond hair.
He’s sitting directly in front of Savanna, watching her with stars in his eyes and a smug smile on his face as she rises on her tiptoes to grab a bottle of gin from the back wall.
His gaze drops to her ass in her tight blue jeans—lingering there.
Clenching my jaw, I weave through the tables, my fist tight at my sides. I yank out the empty barstool to Sanders’s left before dropping onto it.
Sanders rears his head in surprise. “Dalton! Buddy! Where’d you come from?”
Grunting, I clasp my hands together tightly on the bar top. “Oh, I just decided to take a break from working on the house. I thought I could use some lunch.”
Savanna turns from the liquor shelf, her eyes finding mine. Surprise flickers across her face before she schools it into a shy smile, one brow arching as she studies me.
Shit.
Was this a bad idea?
No one knows we’ve been hanging out in secret, and from Savanna’s body language alone, she’s hoping it stays that way.
Yeah. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be okay with that.
“Well, fuck, man. This is good. I’m glad you're here. My office is right down the street, so I try to have lunch here when I can to catch up with Savanna. You know I can’t resist pretty blondes.” Sanders tosses a wink at Savanna.
When Savanna blushes, I curl my fingers into my palms, suddenly not feeling so bad about wanting to put one of my childhood best friends six feet in the dirt.
“Right.” My voice comes out bitter at Sander’s confession. “And who do we have here?” I gesture toward the jackass in the blue suit. I sound like a complete dick, but I don’t care.
“Oh! This is Chad. He just transferred to our office as an associate attorney from Atlanta,” Sanders says, gripping Chad’s shoulder. “I took it upon myself to be his honorary tour guide, and to introduce this guy to island life.”
I snort, shaking my head, blood already ringing in my ears because I know Chad’s type. If I had to take a wild guess, I’d say it was the girl working behind the counter.
“Oh, yeah? Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chad.” My tone catches Sanders off guard, because he gives me a side-eye. Taking a deep breath, I clench my jaw and extend my hand for him to shake. Chad reciprocates, and I’m met with a softer-than-butter handshake from him.
Is this guy wearing fucking lotion? Savanna is not going for a guy who wears fucking hand lotion.
Savanna comes into view, acting as though she hasn’t been avoiding me for two days. “Hey Dalton, what can I get you?”
What can she get me?
An hour of her time would be great.
“A hamburger sounds good.”
Savanna goes to turn, and I stop her.
“No. Wait. Actually, scratch that. I really like having my dessert first.”
She slowly turns my way, the color drained from her face.
Good. Maybe that will jog her memory of my tongue in her.
“Do you guys serve dessert at lunchtime, Savanna?” My eyes narrow, giving her a smirk.
She fidgets with her ponytail, the color now returning to her skin as her cheeks flush. “No, we don’t. I can get you some ice cream from the back that we use for milkshakes if you want.”
“That’d be perfect.”
Savanna shoots me a what-the-fuck look before slipping out from behind the counter and disappearing behind the bar's saloon doors.
Shit. That wasn’t a good look.
Sanders turns and hisses, “What the fuck was that, Dalton? Why are you being a pissy little bitch toward Savanna?”
I sigh. He has a point. “What?” I shrug, guilt consuming me from my childish behavior.
Shit. I need to make this up to her.
“Don’t what me, jackass,” Sanders whisper-shouts. “I’ve known you practically my whole damn life, and I certainly don’t remember you ever treating Savanna this way growing up.”
“Yeah, man. You’re right,” I sigh. "I’ve had a long day.”
He smirks. “Sure, Dalton. I saw the way you watched her Friday night at the bar, when those cowboys were hitting on her. I’ve never seen you look so possessive in my entire fucking life.”
I sink onto the barstool, my body caving in.
He continues, “And I don’t care what’s going on between you two.
In fact, for Hudson’s sake, I don’t want to fucking know.
But whatever has your panties in a bunch, you better knock that shit off.
Savanna doesn’t deserve that. She has enough on her plate as it is, then to have to deal with your bitchy ass. ”
Wow, maybe Sanders should have been a therapist instead of an attorney.
I nod, processing what he’s saying. “Fuck. Yeah, you're right, man.” I rub the back of my neck. “I know I’m being a huge dick. I’ll apologize to her.”
“Good. Hopefully, I knocked some sense into that brain of yours. I thought guys in the military were supposed to be fucking smart or something,” he teases, nudging me.
I chuckle. “Or something,” I mumble under my breath.
Savanna emerges from the kitchen, walks over, and drops the bowl in front of me with a clank, the metal spoon rattling off the sides.
Shit.
“Thanks, Savanna.” I clear my throat. “Sorry for being a dick. It’s been a long day.”
I glance at the bowl of vanilla ice cream covered with sprinkles. Lifting a brow, I give her a pinched look. “Sprinkles?”
Savanna glares at me, her hands fisted at her sides. “I figured if you were going to act like a child, might as well treat you like one.” She pauses, a sneer lining her lips. “Let’s just call it the Drew special.” Turning on her heels, she storms off, moving to the other end of the counter.
Yikes.
Sanders chuckles, leaning in, his hand connecting with my shoulder. “You’re fucked. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now. And especially not with Savanna Davis.”
Well, that’s just fucking great. I think I’ve lost my appetite.
“Well, that’s our cue to get back to work, right, Chad?” Sanders says as they rise from their seats.
Pulling out his wallet, he tosses a wad of cash on the counter. “Oh, before I go, I was thinking we could do a bonfire Friday night to celebrate your big return home.” He winks as a sly smile lines his face.
“Did I hear Bonfire?” Hailey asks, rounding the bar from the kitchen.
“Hell yeah, you did,” Sanders exclaims. “You in?”
“It’s my one Friday night off this month.” She pauses. “But yeah, count me in!”
“Savanna? What about you? Bonfire Friday night?” Sanders calls out to her.
Savanna’s head pings from Sanders to me and back, hesitating. “Yeah, sure. I can probably find a sitter for Drew.”
“Fuck yeah! The gang's back together.” Sanders gives me a fist bump on his way out. “See you guys Friday!”
Before Sanders turns to leave, he leans down close to me and whispers, “Enjoy your lunch, honey.” Slapping my back, he snickers before making his way out of the bar with Chad on his heels like a puppy on a goddamn leash.
Meanwhile, Savanna and I stare at each other from across the bar top. Her eyes searing into me. Finally, she leans across the counter, drawing me in close, her elbows pressed into the wood. “Your lunch, Dalton? Is fucking melting,” she whispers.
Spinning, she saunters off, leaving me staring at a bowl of rainbow sprinkles swimming in a bowl of melted vanilla ice cream.