Chapter 8 Savannah
SAVANNAH
Grandma’s birthday is at her pub—Bonnie’s Tavern.
It’s a cozy old saloon on Main Street. The building looks like it was plucked straight from the Old West, but it’s been extended over the years to make room for the growing number of customers.
There’s a parking lot around the back, but it’s already full when Clay and I arrive, so we park across the street and walk.
A gaggle of old ladies hurry into the tavern ahead of us—at least six of them—followed by a couple of lumberjacks and their wives. I can see another group emerging from the parking lot: a family with four kids. The tavern must be packed.
“Big party, huh?” Clay says gruffly. I chance a glance at him as we cross the street, noting the heaviness of his scowl as he watches all the people enter the tavern. He hates crowds—and Grandma’s party is going to be one hell of a crowd.
“We don’t have to do this,” I tell him, stopping on the sidewalk outside the tavern. “If you want to leave right now, we can.” Another group of people pass us, streaming through the door. “I’m sorry for all of this, Clay. It feels like a pretty insane idea now that we’re here.”
I’m expecting him to seize the opportunity to turn around and walk back to his truck. I’m sure as heck not expecting to feel his giant hand grabbing mine, linking our fingers together. My breath catches as I look up at him, those bright blue eyes piercing me like headlights in the dark.
“We’re doing this, sugar.”
I swallow hard. Clay says it so matter-of-factly, leaving no room for doubt.
His hand squeezes mine, my palm tiny against his, and I feel my nerves settle as he leads me toward the door of the tavern.
I feel safe with him—like maybe I can handle all of this after all.
I might be about to lie to the whole town, but with Clay by my side, the chaos doesn’t seem so scary.
The tavern is even busier than I expected as we walk inside, hand-in-hand.
Dozens of voices chatter at once, drowning out the music playing over the speakers.
The chairs and tables have all been pushed to the side, and groups of people sit along the edge of the room, nibbling at party food and chatting animatedly.
The middle of the room heaves with even more people, familiar faces from around town, all of them laughing, dancing, and talking while kids chase each other around the room with screeches of delight.
An enormous banner is strung across the high wooden ceiling.
Happy Birthday Bonnie!
This is Grandma’s idea of heaven…and probably Clay’s idea of hell.
I catch sight of Grandma at the back of the room, standing by a long table which is laden with even more snacks. She’s talking to a group of friends but keeps shooting glances toward the front door. She hasn’t noticed me and Clay yet, but I have a feeling that it’s us she’s looking out for.
“Just realized I don’t have a gift,” Clay says, his deep voice cutting easily through the noise as we head across the room.
“Grandma hates gifts.” Unlike him, I have to practically shout to be heard. “She’s impossible to buy for, so she gets people to donate to Cherry Mountain Rescue instead.”
He nods. “Will do.”
I feel eyes on us as I guide Clay toward my grandma. He parts the crowd like the Red Sea, towering head and shoulders over most of the guests, and I hear snatches of muttering as we pass.
“—Bonnie’s grandkid, Savannah—”
“—didn’t know she was dating a lumberjack—”
“—name’s something Benson. Cade, maybe. Or Cole—”
“—lives on Cherry Mountain—”
“—works at the bookstore. Sweet girl—”
“—saw them at the hospital yesterday—”
“—heard Bonnie’s been trying to set her up for—”
“—think they make a cute couple—”
I feel Clay stiffen beside me at all the attention, and I squeeze his hand, breathing hard as I keep my gaze fixed on Grandma. We’ve nearly reached her; she’s bound to notice us any second.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask Clay.
“Yes.”
I gulp. “Because I’m not sure I am. Maybe I should just take her aside for a minute and come clean.”
Clay lets go of my hand, slipping his arm around my waist instead. He pulls me close, my curves yielding to the hard angles of his body.
“We got this, sugar.”
His scent wraps around me, musk and pine, and the world seems to fall away.
All the noise turns to static, everything narrowing down to the place where my body touches Clay’s, and desire buzzes through me, heat blooming between my thighs at the closeness.
It feels so good. So right. His grip is firm on my waist, his arm like a protective barrier as we make a beeline for Grandma.
It’s not real, Savannah.
We’re just putting on a show.
But my chest is pounding like a bass drum as Clay squeezes me tight.
“Savannah!”
Grandma’s voice snaps me back to reality. I catch her eye, and her face lights up like a Christmas tree as she looks from me to Clay. She hurries toward us, her friends watching on, all muttering with their heads together. I recognize Sheila among them, and she shoots me a smile.
“Oh, look at you two!” Grandma exclaims when she reaches us, throwing her arms around me. Seeing her so happy fills me with a mixture of guilt and joy, and I hug her back tight.
“Happy Birthday, Grandma.”
As she pulls away from me, Clay nods his head. “Happy Birthday, ma’am.”
“Ma’am, schma’am, honey. You go right ahead and call me Bonnie.
” She throws her spindly arms around him, like a chipmunk hugging a bear.
Then she pulls back, eyeing him warmly, like a long-lost relative.
“It’s been a while. I still remember you and your brother drinking in my tavern like it was yesterday.
A neat whiskey every Saturday night when you were on leave. ”
Clay raises a thick eyebrow. “I’m impressed you remember. That was years ago.”
“Never forget a customer, honey.” She beams at him, then at me. “Gah, you look so damn cute together. I couldn’t be happier for you both.”
My throat is dry, my tongue slow and heavy. Grandma’s friends are heading toward us, eyes glowing with curiosity. They’re all sweet ladies, but right now, I can’t help feeling like I’m being circled by hungry sharks.
Clay doesn’t miss a beat.
“Thanks, Bonnie,” he says. “I’m a lucky man.”
Then he bends down, his beard brushing my skin as he presses a kiss on the top of my head. I stop breathing. My knees go weak, and I turn my head to look at Clay. He’s standing so close that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, and I shiver when those vivid blue eyes meet mine.
Grandma’s friends are closing in. They’re fussing over us, talking excitedly, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying. The way Clay is looking at me right now has turned the whole world silent.
He’s looking at me like I belong to him.
A fierce possessiveness burns in his eyes as he lifts his free hand to my red-hot cheek, brushing my skin. His thumb glides down to my mouth, running over my bottom lip. He looks like he wants to devour me. Eat me whole.
From somewhere far away, I hear one of Grandma’s friends chuckle. “I don’t think they can hear us, Bonnie.”
“He’s just like Rafe,” another one says. “My grandson is like a man possessed when he’s around his wife.”
“My Lincoln is the same. He’s a sweetheart, but when Daisy got pregnant, he was almost feral! Like a guard dog with fangs.”
“Thorne is the same with Aria,” I hear Grandma say. “He’s totally obsessed, and it’s only been a few weeks.”
“Well, you know what they say. Lumberjacks love hard.”
“And fuck even harder.”
“Dorothy!” someone exclaims as the rest of them cackle.
“What? I should know! My husband was a lumberjack back in the day.”
Their voices tune out again—a radio station turning to static. Clay is still staring at me, eyes molten, making it impossible to control my wildly beating heart. It feels like it might punch a hole in my chest.
It’s fake, my brain screams. Don’t fall for it!
Clay doesn’t have feelings for me. He’s just doing me a favor by pretending to be my boyfriend for the day.
I should know that. Heck, we just spent hours preparing for this, readying ourselves for this whole charade.
But the way he’s looking at me has sent all my logical thoughts flying out the window.
Oh God.
I was scared this would happen—scared I wouldn’t be strong enough to separate fact from fiction.
Now the lines are already blurring in my mind, and my oversensitive heart is taking the wheel.
I don’t want Clay to see how much this is getting to me, but as he squeezes my waist, I can’t help shivering against him.
I wish he wasn’t so good at this.