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“Then why do you stay?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Anger called out from his eyes and in his voice when he said, “Because my family helped build this town. Because if I don’t stay, then Placid might not survive. I’ll spend my last dying breath trying to prevent that from happening. Maybe you had no trouble walking away without looking back, but I never would.”
Sam’s loyalty to the town wasn’t new to Savannah, nor was his continued condemnation of her choices. Many times in the past he’d echoed the same sentiments. Still, she couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to champion a possible lost cause, or choose to permanently reside in a place with so few opportunities. Then again, she’d always known that Sam had wanted nothing more than a simple way of life. “I guess we both got what we wanted. I have my law career, and you got the farm, wife and child. Congratulations on meeting your goals.”
“Minus the wife,” he corrected, his gaze now fixed on some unknown focal point in the front yard.
“I’m so sorry to hear it didn’t work out with you and Darlene.” She couldn’t seem to mask the falseness in her tone.
He finally looked at her again. “We tried to make it work, but some things aren’t meant to be. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”
So had Savannah, and she’d never forgotten it.
The crunch of gravel beneath tires drew their attention to the driveway and the truck approaching the house in a cloud of dust. A truck she didn’t recognize until the driver exited the cab.
Matthew Boyd strolled up the path to the porch sporting a wide grin. To Savannah, he looked much the same with his light brown hair and eternally tanned skin that made him seem more surfer than veterinarian.
He walked right up to the table and stared down on her feet. “I swear, Savannah Leigh, you haven’t changed a bit. You still hate wearing shoes.”
Savannah stood and gave him a tight hug. “And you still love pointing that out, don’t you?” She looked around him toward the truck. “Where’s Rachel?”
“Buried in the clinic’s bookkeeping,” he said as he shook Sam’s hand. “She’s been under the weather, so she’s behind.”
Savannah reclaimed her chair and thankfully Matt took a seat between her and Sam. “I heard you mention Rachel’s not feeling well at the funeral,” she said. “Is it summer flu?”
Matt raked his cowboy hat off his head and swiped his arm across his forehead. “Could be. She’s been feeling better the past few days, which is why I’m here. She sent me by to invite you to join us at Barney’s tonight.”
Talk about a past-blast. “That old bar’s still open?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s open,” Sam said.
“And Barney even serves food now with the beer,” Matt added.
Savannah laughed. “He’s always served food. Box pizza and cold hot dogs, or so I’ve heard.” She’d only been to the place once, but she’d never gone inside. She’d waited in the car with Sam and Rachel while Matt retrieved his drunken father one weekend.
“Wednesday night is all-you-can-eat-ribs night,” Matt said.
“Sounds interesting.” Not that she was overly fond of ribs or beer.
“Anyway,” Matt continued, “we thought it might be nice to get the gang back together while you’re in town. Chase has already agreed to come and so has Sam.”
She couldn’t believe Sam hadn’t mentioned the little get-together during their conversation. Oh, yes, she could. He probably didn’t want her to go. “What about Jess?”
Matt shook his head. “Rachel’s going to call her, but don’t get your hopes up. Dalton keeps a pretty tight rein on her these days. We sure as hell don’t want him around, not that he’d show up. But he’s probably not going to let her come, either.”
Savannah was appalled to learn that her good friend Jessica—the former gregarious cheerleader—would let her husband dictate her every move. “I hope she does show up, because I’m really looking forward to seeing her. But if she doesn’t, I planned to stop by her house in the next few days anyway.”
“So are you game?” Matt asked. “It’s way past time to have a proper reunion of the original six-pack.”
For some stupid reason, she glanced at Sam as if she needed his permission. Worse still, he just sat there in silence, looking completely noncommittal. She could probably list a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t accept, but only one immediately came to mind. “I don’t remember how to get there.”
Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “You can ride with us. Is seven okay?”
“Seven sounds fine, if I decide to go. I’ll need to check with my mother first.” Apparently coming home had turned her into a child again.
“I imagine Ruth won’t care if you spend a couple of hours with old friends,” Matt said, then pointed at Sam. “Talk her into it, McBriar.”
Sam’s smirk turned into a frown. “She’s a grown woman. She can make up her own mind. If she doesn’t want to do something, then I sure as hell can’t make her do it.”
In Savannah’s opinion, he’d all but confirmed he would rather she not show up. That alone served as a good enough reason to attend the little soiree. “I’ll take you up on the ride.”
Matt grinned. “Great. We’ll pick you up around seven-thirty.”
“Didn’t you say seven?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, but you know Rachel. She’s always late.” Before Matt started down the steps, he turned and looked at Sam, then back at Savannah. “Hope the two of you get along for a change. I don’t want to deal with a barroom brawl and risk throwing my back out.”
Sporting a wily grin, Matt spun around and walked away, leaving Savannah without any retort. She could tolerate Sam for a few hours. Besides, she truly wanted to connect with her old friends, even if she didn’t count Sam among them.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Savannah?”
She turned to her left to find Sam leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest, looking much like he had when she’d left the diner the other day. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It means spending an entire night with me.”
An entire night? “It’s just an hour or two, Sam. We don’t have to communicate at all or even come near each other.”
His smile formed only halfway. A somewhat skeptical smile. “Yeah, you’re right. As long as you don’t have more than one drink.”
Another series of flashbacks ran through Savannah’s mind like a long-ago slide show. Memories of one night beneath the stars in his arms after she’d had her first wine. She shook off the recollections and firmed her frame. “Believe me, I can handle myself much better these days.”
Truth be known, she was a little worried and it had nothing to do with booze. Having a somewhat tense conversation with Sam on a porch in the sunlight seemed innocuous enough. But being in the presence of a former lover in a dim bar after a couple of drinks could wreak havoc on her common sense.
Not a chance. She didn’t intend to have more than one drink, if that. And she certainly wasn’t going to re-enact the mistakes of her youth.
She would go to see old friends. She’d have a good time, even if she had to fake it, and she was pretty darn good at faking it.
SHE DIDN’T WANT TO BE there. Sam could tell that about Savannah the minute she walked into the bar with Matt and Rachel. He could tell because she started wringing her hands like an old-time washer and her shoulders were about as stiff as Gracie’s old clothesline. She looked even more uncomfortable when a couple of people called out greetings as she worked her way through the rows of tables.
But damn, she still looked good. He’d almost forgotten how well she could fill out a pair of jeans. She filled out the black thin-strapped shirt pretty well, too. With her blond hair curling around her bare shoulders, those man-killing high heels, she’d make the grade as most men’s dream-girl fantasy and wish for reality.
He wasn’t the only man who’d noticed her, either. A group of young bucks seated at the bar gawked when she passed by, and so did a few guys who had come with their wives or dates.
In a country place full of country folk, in a bar with rough-hewn wood walls, a tin roof and seen-better-days furnishings, she stood out like tar against snow. But if those guys really knew her like Sam did, they wouldn’t give her a second look. And if they did, they ran the risk of getting burned.
Once the group reached the round table in the corner that Sam had claimed an hour earlier, Rachel and Matt moved ahead of Savannah and took the two high-back stools opposite him. That left only one option— Savannah was going to have to sit next to him, whether she liked it or not. He figured she wasn’t going to like it any more than he did.
Savannah confirmed his theory when she moved the stool as far from him as she could without landing in Rachel’s lap. She did turn to him to say, “Hello, Sam,” with a little too much formality for someone who once knew him better than anyone.
He returned her greeting with a less formal nod of acknowledgment, then followed with, “Where’s Chase?”
Matt hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We saw him at the pool tables with a group of women probably ten years his junior.”
No sooner had Matt finished the sentence than Chase walked up to the table and wrapped his ham-hock arms around Savannah. Sam couldn’t stop the harebrained thought “Hands off” when Chase looked her up and down like she was his favorite hot rod. “You’re looking mighty fine tonight, darlin’. Where have you been all my life?”
Savannah didn’t seem the least bit put off by the come-on and even grinned, which for some reason didn’t sit too well with Sam. “I’ve been avoiding silver-tongued devils like you, Chase. But it’s still good to see you even if you haven’t changed a bit.”
Sam disagreed with Savannah on that count. Chase was just trying too hard to convince people he was the same.
Chase took the empty stool on the other side of Sam and set it between Savannah and Rachel, causing everyone to have to shift position. That also meant that Savannah had to move closer to Sam. He might have found that amusing if her damn perfume didn’t smell so good.
“Has anyone ordered anything yet?” Chase asked as soon as he was seated.
Sam raised his hand to signal the sixty-something waitress who’d been a Barney’s fixture since the Confederacy rolled up the carpet. “Maybe she’ll be by to take our order before midnight.”
Savannah looked around before saying, “It’s sure crowded for a Wednesday. Must be the ribs.”
“It’s the band,” Chase added. “They come in from Memphis every Wednesday.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “And they let anyone who thinks they can sing have a shot. Nothing quite like spending the evening with a bunch of yahoos who erroneously believe they have talent.”
Matt nodded toward Sam. “He’s been known to sit in with the band every now and then.”
His friend could’ve gone all night without mentioning that. “Not in a while.”
Rachel rested her cheek on her palm and stared at him. “But you can sing, and I think you should give us a song tonight, just like in the old days.”
Sam held up his hands, palms forward. “No, thanks.”
“Come on, McBriar,” Chase said. “Do it for the six-pack.”
Luckily the waitress arrived to take their orders, halting the conversation. Normally he might perform a song or two, but he didn’t see any reason to take time away from his friends, except maybe Savannah.
She picked that moment to lean over, surprising the hell out of him. “What are you having?”
The urge to get the hell out of Dodge. “I ate before I left the house.”
“Why?”
“Because I was hungry.” He still was and she was looking pretty damn appetizing. Obviously he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.
“Then what do you recommend other than the ribs?” she asked.
“The burgers are okay.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do they have salads?”
He pointed to the chalkboard hanging on the far wall. “That’s the menu.”
“Oh.” Thankfully she straightened to study it, giving Sam some room to breathe.
After they placed their orders, the waitress returned with their drinks in record time. Chase and Matt each had a beer, while Rachel opted for iced tea and Savannah settled for a glass of cheap red wine. Sam had requested a cola, and he figured he was going to catch hell for it.
Chase was the first to notice. “Why aren’t you drinking tonight, Mac?”
“Because I had a beer before you showed up and that’s my limit.”
“Since when?” Matt asked.
“Since I had a kid.”
Savannah looked more amazed than anyone. “I’m impressed.”
At least he’d done something to impress her, not that he gave a damn what she thought of him. “People tend to change as they get older and have more responsibility.”
She rimmed her fingertip around the wineglass and looked away. “I suppose they do.”
Matt surveyed the group and shook his head. “Man, does this bring back some good memories, having us all back together again.”
Rachel hid a yawn behind her hand. “I still remember all those weekends we spent at Potter’s Pond.”
Matt chuckled. “I remember when Savannah and Sam got caught parking at the pond by that idiotic deputy. What was his name, Chase?”
Chase scowled. “Gordon. I never understood why my dad hired him. Not only was he a screwup, he had that brownnosing son named Brady.”
Savannah rubbed her forehead as if the recollection had brought about a serious headache. “Ah, yes, Brady. He told everyone at school Sam and I were ‘doing it’ that night when we weren’t doing all that much.”
Sam had been glad they hadn’t been doing much more, otherwise he would’ve been in worse trouble.
“Didn’t the two of you get grounded after your folks got wind of it?” Rachel asked.
“For a week,” Sam admitted before Savannah had the chance.
But the punishment hadn’t stopped him from seeing her. He’d prefer not to remember the details, but he did. Late at night, he’d sneaked out of his back door and right into her bedroom window. The thrill of getting caught had only stoked their ongoing fire. He’d never forgotten those nights, all the more reason to steer clear of her now.
Matt draped his arm around his wife. “We can’t forget the time we sent Rachel into the field house on the guise that the coach needed to see her about the cheerleading squad—”
“Shut up, Matthew,” Rachel snapped. “That wasn’t the least bit funny, walking in on all those half-naked guys in the locker room. I’m still angry.”
“Angry because she didn’t have a camera,” Savannah chimed in, causing a loud outburst of laughter.
The stories kept flowing while Sam stayed stuck on the memories involving his and Savannah’s former time together. He’d never had a relationship that intense before, or since. But when she left, he’d begun to realize that he’d never been more to Savannah than a temporary diversion and a teacher when it came to sex. She’d only intended to hang around town long enough for the ink to dry on her high school diploma. If he’d only been able to see back then what he knew now, he would’ve saved himself a lot of sleepless nights and second-guessing.
When the conversation and laughter quieted, Savannah sighed. “I just wish Jess could’ve been here.”
Rachel folded her hands atop the table. “I tried to convince her to come but she made up some excuse about Danny’s baseball game and that Dalton was too busy to pick him up.”
Chase looked as if he’d eaten something sour. “He’s probably too busy screwing around with some gullible woman.”
Savannah leaned forward. “You mean he’s cheating on her?”
For Jess’s sake, Sam felt the need to set the record straight in spite of his suspicions. “No one’s confirmed anything yet, and I hope like hell Jess’s boy doesn’t get wind of the rumors. He’s got enough troubles having Dalton as his dad.”
Rachel scooted closer to the table. “Speaking of that very thing…” She took Matt’s hand into hers and added, “We have some news.”
Matt looked to Sam as if he might bolt. “Yeah, we do.”
Sam stared down Chase, letting him know he was about to be twenty dollars richer, before he stated, “You’re going to be parents.”
Rachel’s mouth opened for a minute before she snapped it shut and swatted her husband’s arm. “I thought we were going to wait to tell everyone together, Matthew.”
Matt raised his hands above his head, like he was set to surrender. “I swear I didn’t say a thing, Rachel.”
“He didn’t have to,” Sam said. “I went through all the symptoms with Darlene. No drinking, sick in the morning, yawning every five minutes.”
Savannah stood, rounded the table and hugged Rachel. “I’m so thrilled for the two of you.”
In the meantime, Chase pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty to Sam. “You win.”
Matt didn’t look too pleased. “You two were betting on my wife?”
Sam leaned back and grinned. “Yep. Chase didn’t think you had it in you after thirteen years of marriage.”
Chase chuckled. “Hell, I didn’t think anyone had sex after thirteen years of marriage.”
Once again, the group joined together in laughter, including Savannah. Sam had forgotten how much he liked her laugh. He’d always been able to make her laugh, even during some fairly rocky times. He’d also been good at making her cry, like he had that day in the diner. Right or wrong, at the time he’d figured she’d deserved it. He’d wanted her to feel as bad as he had, punish her for leaving him behind. But the past was long since dead and buried and didn’t deserve a resurrection. Once he left this hellhole, and Savannah, he swore not to give it—or her—a second thought.
After the food arrived, Sam tried to focus on the conversation but found himself watching Savannah eat her measly salad. He’d taught her to kiss, and she’d taken to his instructions pretty damn well. She’d been a willing student, even if she had made him work for the ultimate reward for almost two years. And if he didn’t keep his mind on the present and his eyes to himself, he could forget using a poker face to hide his fascination with her mouth, especially if she caught him with his guard down.
But as the talk once more turned to old times, Savannah seemed more relaxed around Sam, so much so she started to lean toward him whenever he tried to speak above the din. And when no one was paying him any mind, he’d inch his chair away from her. If he moved clear across the room, that wouldn’t be far enough away. He’d still know she was there, and he’d still be tempted to return to the past even if he’d sworn not to go there.
During a lull in the conversation, Chase slid out of his seat and stood. “Anyone up for a game of pool?”
Sam pushed away from the table so fast he almost knocked over the stool. “I’m in.”
“Count me in, too,” Matt said. “As long as you concentrate on the game, Reed, and not the kind that involves finding a willing woman while pretending to play pool.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” Chase leaned down and draped his arm over Savannah’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to be willing, would you, sweetheart?”
She removed his arm, much to Sam’s satisfaction, even if he shouldn’t care what the hell she did and who she did it with. “Not on your life, Chase,” she said. “That would be like kissing my brother.”
Chase grinned. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
Matt came to his feet and said, “While we’re gone, you two girls can talk about us all you want.”
Sam had no doubt he’d be the prime topic of discussion, especially if Savannah had a mind to rake him over the coals with Rachel for his less-than-friendly attitude.
Once they reached the tables, Sam grabbed a cue from the wall holder and turned to discover that the couple currently playing pool didn’t appear to be in a hurry to complete their game. When they kept kissing and touching each other, he almost suggested they give up and take it into the parking lot.
Matt came to his side and said, “You and Savannah looked kind of cozy back there at the table.”
He shouldn’t be surprised by the comment. To any casual observer, they might have looked “cozy.”
“Your imagination’s out of control, Boyd.”
Chase joined them to add his two cents. “I don’t know, Mac. Are you sure you’re not hankerin’ to take a little trip back in time with Savannah?”
Sam battled the images the comment created and the urge to curse his friends. “You two don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
Fortunately, the couple had finally cut out, providing a diversion. “Looks like it’s our turn,” he said.
While Matt gathered the pool balls, Chase leaned back against the table and regarded Sam. “Twenty bucks says you and Savannah will end up in bed together before the week’s over.”
Sam didn’t like the bet or the bedroom images running through his mind. “Go to hell, Reed.”
Matt offered his hand to Chase. “I say three days.”
“You’re on,” Chase said as they sealed the wager with a shake.
When they both looked at Sam expectantly, he picked up a cue and took his first shot, missing the pocket by a mile. “No good ever comes from repeating history,” he muttered as he straightened. “You can both make a hundred bets and neither of you are going to win.” If he considered what they were suggesting, he’d also be in line to lose.
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