“Not really, just splitting my time between here and the business still until it’s up and running,” I answer. One of my brows quirks up while I turn my horse to follow the rest of the guys who are heading back to the ranch. He’s using the curious tone reserved for when Mom puts him up to fishing for information. He’s not very good at making it seem nonchalant. “Why?”
“No reason.”
I realize it sounds like he’s on speaker and my suspicions are pretty much confirmed. “Hi, Mama,” I say and roll my eyes.
“Oh hi, sweetie!” she answers too quickly. There’s no chance she wasn’t standing right next to him listening the entire time.
“What’s going on?” I laugh.
“Nothing,” she says. “We were just wondering when we were going to get to meet your girlfriend. Savannah, is it? We didn’t even know you were dating someone! This is so exciting!”
“Huh? Mama, Savannah and I aren’t dating.”
“Warren, you know better than to lie to your mother like that,” she says. “Now, we’re having a little dinner at the Grants’ on Sunday night. Do you think you might want to bring her?”
“I’m confused. I don’t have a—” Another text comes through from Savannah and I’m starting to wonder if whatever it is that she needs to talk to me about has anything to do with the fact that my parents think we are in a relationship.
Obviously, I don’t hate the idea at all. But I have a hard time believing that she suddenly changed her mind and then told the town we were together. Something else is definitely going on here.
Savannah
Preferably soon?
“Can I give you a call back?” I say to Mom and Dad.
“Of course! Make sure to text me if she has any allergies soon though so I can plan what to bring to the Grants’.”
“I’ll get right on that, Mama. Love you.”
“Love you!” they say in unison as I hang up and text Savannah back.
Where are you?
11
SAVANNAH
Warm blazes of red and orange bleed into the sky while the sun sets and I’m starting to get impatient waiting on Warren. I’m hoping to get ahead of this and talk to him about the fact that the whole town thinks we’re dating before anyone else does.
I turn away from the window where I’ve been staring down the empty gravel driveway for half an hour to pick up my spray bottle. If I’m going to sit here and look through it, I might as well clean it. I push the gauzy linen curtains to the side, soak the entire window in cleaner, and then grab a microfiber towel to wipe it down.
“Finally,” I sigh as Warren’s black truck pulls into the drive. I rush to toss the microfiber towel into the laundry basket and tuck away the cleaning spray, scanning the rest of the space for anything out of place before he parks and inevitably comes inside. There’s nothing that needs sprucing up, of course, but it never hurts to triple-check.
The front of the cottage consists of two large bay windows on either side of the front door, so I have a perfect view of Warrenstepping out of his truck and walking this way. I’m frozen in place next to the couch and trying not to sweat.
It’s never comfortable for me to have someone in my safe space, no matter who it is. But I don’t have much of a choice. This has to be a private conversation with no chance of anyone overhearing.
God, Ihatehow he’s wearing that soft cotton T-shirt and those damn jeans with the crease down the center. Is it necessary to have them so deliciously tight around his thighs? Couldn’t he just wear something baggy or unflattering?
Knock knock.
I shake out of my daze to harness my focus and walk toward the door to open it. As the handle clicks and the door swings inward, he looks at me straight on, wearing the same stupidly charming smirk I’ve seen on him so many times before, dimple and all.
“Savvy.”
“Warren.” I flatten my lips and keep my face as serious as I can, knowing what I’m about to explain to him.
Stepping aside, I open the door wider allowing him to stride in. The cottage is already a relatively small studio design and is filled to the brim with various plants and other bohemian-style decor. With the space he takes up now though, it feels even more cramped than usual.
