Page 42 of Fire Away


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“Sorry,” Gage laughs harder, covering his mouth with his fist. “I thought you were inside with your mom and it was Tripp pulling up in the feed truck.”

“My mom’s here already?” I figured I had until at least seven. I pull my phone out of my pocket, that’s luckily still dry somehow, and see that it’s already past that time.

“Yeah, I saw her car out front when I got here.”

I turn quickly to walk out toward the bunkhouse, and Gage follows and closes the door behind us.

“So, does your mom know?” he asks as we make our way across the gravel.

“That Savannah and I aren’t really together? Nah,” I shake my head. “Not sure how long that’s going to last though.”

“How long before your mom figures out, or how long you’re going to last pretending to date a girl you have feelings for?” Gage asks.

“Both,” I sigh. “I don’t like lying to my parents about it though, I can tell you that.”

“I’m telling you man, just date her for real.”

“Easy for you to say. They don’t all fall at my feet on day two.”

“I’m a lucky bastard,” he grins, and I shove his shoulder hard enough that he stumbles to the side but it just makes him laugh again.

The Gage I knew when I first started working here didn’t use to laugh and smile this much. He was a grumpy son of a bitch before he met Blythe.

I never understood why some guys make a big fuss about their best friend falling for their sister. If you don’t think she’s agrown woman capable of making her own decisions, or that your friends are shitty enough that you don’t want them near your sister, just say that.

They’re happy, so I’m happy about it too. Plain and simple.

Doesn’t mean I’m not a little jealous of what they have.

We walk into the kitchen from the back door and within seconds I read the state of nervousness on Savannah’s face. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I’m staring like an idiot and doing nothing to hide it.

Leave it to me to be obsessed with a girl who isn’t exactly jumping at the chance to be with me outside of a fake relationship.

“Happy birth—” Mama starts to say from her spot next to the oven, but stops short when she sees Tripp isn’t with Gage and me. “Where is he?!”

“No clue,” I answer as I make my way to Savannah. I stand behind her chair, placing my hands on the counter on either side of her body. Her hair, smelling like a sweet and fresh bouquet of flowers overpowers my senses and I lean in closer without thinking.

“Was there an early morning wet T-shirt contest I wasn’t aware of?” she asks with a quirked brow and crinkled-up nose.

I look down at my water and beer-soaked shirt and then step toward her to close the last bit of distance between us so that I’m pressed up against her back. She squeals and tries to push me away, but I laugh and keep her caged in.

“You’re going to ruin my outfit, get that nasty shirt away from me, it smells terrible,” she squirms and giggles. She wants to pretend that she’s grossed out, but the grin on her face says differently.

It might take longer than I’d like for Savannah to fully give in to me. But I think seeing her smile like this is enough to hold me over.

I see it the moment it happens—when she realizes that her guard is down and this side of her comes out. It’s the same girl I met that first night.

In a flash, she straightens her face. Her heel-clad legs uncross and she sweeps a handful of curls behind her ear, effectively reinstating her protective exterior.

She thinks it’ll get me to stop.

But I grab her chin between my fingers, turn her head, and plant a kiss on her lips anyway.

“Mornin’, Savvy.”

I spot my mom wearing a soft smile and peeking at us over her lashes while she pulls a stainless steel bowl off the stand-up mixer. No doubt, she’ll be gushing about us to Mrs. Grant within the hour.

No surprise, Savannah wasn’t expecting that, and her breath catches, her eyes popping open.