Chapter Two

“Get off my front steps!” Savannah shouted, anger taking over all reasonable thought and action. She’d had enough. She wanted to step inside her childhood home and allow the warmth of her parents’ memories to wash over her. She wanted to cry in her old bedroom and beg God to bring her mama back.

What she didn’t want to do was stay there in front of Logan Park, the one person who could break her, when it took every bit of her strength to stand. She couldn’t handle it. And now he was there to buy her bed-and-breakfast? No, no, no, no, no!

“Anna, look, it’s—”

“Don’t you dare call me that. We aren’t friends. We were never friends.” Savannah knew her words were harsh, even untruthful, but what was she supposed to say? He’d left, and now he stood on the steps of her bed-and-breakfast, talking about buying it, as though it weren’t the most hurtful thing he could possibly say to her. The weight of everything pressed down on her shoulders, her chest. Any second she would crumple.

She drew a rattled breath and tried to focus on Logan without seeing all the things in him she’d once adored. The way his long lashes shadowed his eyes. The way his hair always had a just-woke-up look about it. How could a person change so much and yet remain exactly the same? “Please, leave. I need to sort out my mama’s burial, and I can’t do that with your face looking over my shoulder.”

Logan’s careful facade cracked, and the smirk dropped to a frown. “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. But when you’re settled, we need to talk about this. We’re willing to offer you a very generous amount of money.”

Savannah covered her eyes with her hands, wishing she could block out everything. The pain. The memories. God, the memories… “Just leave already.”

Logan walked down the steps and around her, sending a chill up her spine as his lemongrass scent hit her. He still smelled exactly the same—all earth and freshly laundered clothes and a yearning for something important but he hadn’t quite figured out what. Her heartbeat kicked up at the thought, and she pushed it aside. The man before her wasn’t that Logan, though she wasn’t sure if she’d ever truly known him at all.

She started up the steps, when Logan called out her name. She dropped her arms to her side in defeat. “What now? Are you here to steal the dog, too?” She motioned to the collie curled up on the front porch.

Logan stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground before tilting his head up and peering over at her. It was the same look he used to give her that summer, when no one else was around, like he could see through her soul with just the slightest glance. “I’m sorry about Jane. I am. But we were friends, Savannah. We were a hell of a lot more than friends.” And then he continued down the winding road and out of sight before she could respond.

With a shudder, she tucked away the emotions she felt at his words, the doubt and insecurity she’d harbored for all of her adulthood, and pushed her way through the screen door and into the foyer of her family’s bed-and-breakfast.

The smell of old wood and apple cider and a thousand precious moments hit her, stopping her in her tracks. Dust floated in the air, refusing to settle, like even it had no idea what to do now that Jane Hale was gone. Savannah’s mama had an air to her, an ability to make people see things her way. To make them feel special, loved. She was the reason the business had been so successful, even garnering articles in Southern Living and RedBook. Twice. The Maple Cove B&B had built a reputation across the South as the place to go for comfort and friendship. And now it was over.

A shudder worked its way down Savannah’s back and before she could help herself she was sobbing. Why hadn’t she come home more? Why hadn’t she called her mama more? Why, why, why? She kneeled on the floor and cried into her hands, ignoring everything around her, wishing she could sink into the floor and hide until the funeral was over. It wasn’t until she heard a man clear his throat that it occurred to her that she might not be alone.

Panic gripped Savannah’s chest. She hadn’t asked Leigh if the bed-and-breakfast had guests. She just assumed they would close it down for business until everything could be settled, but clearly…

Savannah peeled open one of her eyes and turned her head to the left, to the small dining room full of tables, where guests ate their meals. Sure enough, fate loved her today, and the room overflowed with people, all of them staring at her with a mix of expressions on their faces.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence?” the old man closest to Savannah asked. “Because if so, I think I’d like a discount on my rate.”

Savannah scrambled to her feet, her cheeks on fire as she wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand. “No—it— No it’s not, sir. It—” She glanced around the room for help, and her gaze locked on the white-haired Mrs. Cooke, who had helped Savannah’s mama run the bed-and-breakfast since Savannah was in diapers. Her heart leaped at the sight of her, tears threatening their return. “Mrs. Cooke?” She was as close to Savannah’s mama as they came.

Walking over to the open doorway, Mrs. Cooke smiled sweetly at the guests and said, “Enjoy your breakfast. The biscuits are rolled fresh every morning.” And then she closed the French doors and drew their blinds, set down her teapot on the water tray in the foyer, and wrapped her wrinkled arms around Savannah. “Dear God. I never thought I’d see you again, Savannah Jane.”

Savannah’s bottom lip trembled at her full name, and she buried her head into Mrs. Cooke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I had no idea we had guests.”

“It’s all fine, honeybunch. They’ve seen worse. Now let’s get you fixed up before your brother and sister arrive. They need your strength, even if you don’t feel it yourself.”

Savannah nodded. Her strength. She thought of Logan out on her front porch, and how her heart had slammed to a halt the moment she saw him. How could she feel such relief and at the same time such anger at the sight of a person? It had taken all her effort not to rush into his arms and settle into his chest like she had after Will’s funeral. But that Logan Park wasn’t the same Logan Park who broke her heart, who made her question if their friendship had all been in her head. So, unsure how to handle him earlier, she’d gone with yelling. Because at least if she yelled, she wouldn’t cry.

So much for strength.

...

Logan settled into a chair in the back of Southern Sandwich and Fudge, ignoring the stares that seemed to follow him since his arrival in Maple Cove. The smell of fresh pancakes and syrup, mixed with the sizzle of frying hash browns, attacked his senses in the best possible way. He drew a breath and let it wash over him. If only his father didn’t live in town, Logan might have liked to move back to Maple, but living in the same town as Canton Park sounded as appealing as having his fingernails ripped off. His upbringing had been enough to make him want to avoid the man for the rest of his life.

Unlike Will, who’d had a perfect childhood and supportive parents, the definition of Southern breeding, Logan’s father drank liquor like most people breathed air. His father had wanted him to work down at the cotton mill a town over when he graduated, and when Logan told him he wanted to go to college instead, his father laughed. “What would a loser like you do in college?”

Logan’s mom was no better, spending more time in bed with either men half her age or men who had no business talking to anyone other than their wives. Alcoholic for a father and a whore for a mother—how could Logan amount to anything? He couldn’t and wouldn’t.

Except for Will.

Will pushed him to care about school, to join the baseball team, and get his head out of his ass. And everything was great, until Will started talking about Savannah. The very girl who had stolen a piece of Logan’s heart all those years ago. But as she started coming around more and more, it became apparent that Logan was a shadow—a black shadow that did nothing more than ruin their happy lovers glow. And he resented her for it. Resented that she’d chosen Will over him. Didn’t she feel their connection? He guessed not, until that one day at the lake.

She had gone out by herself on her family’s old bass boat, only to have the battery die on her. As it was, he figured she would rather swim home than take a lift from him. Their relationship had become a mix of sarcasm and avoidance. But he had been working as a guide that summer, and there was no one else around. Just him in a guide boat, and then it was the two of them, talking as he secured her boat to his and took her to her father’s truck parked at the dock.

She begged him not to tell Will—saying that she was embarrassed, that he would judge her for going out on her own and he would be right. Logan hadn’t noticed until then that Savannah fidgeted whenever she thought she had lost control of the situation. And that day, Savannah was fidgeting like a crazy person. Unable to deny her, he agreed and they spent the next hour getting a new battery from her dad’s truck, then switching it for the bad one in her boat. And damn if by the end of that hour it wasn’t done—her name carved into his heart like reckless footprints in cement.

He ignored his feelings for years out of respect for Will, but once he realized how deep they ran, he had no idea what to do. For a while he refused to talk to her, refused to even look at her, which did nothing more than cause one of the biggest arguments he had ever had with Will. He’d told Logan he was an asshole, and all Logan could think was, “You have no idea how right you are.”

They left for basic training a few short days later, and in what felt like overnight, they were deployed for ten months to the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan. And for the first time in Logan’s life, he understood fear. How it clung to a person, attached to each breath, refusing to lift. The “Valley of Death,” it had been called, and the name proved right. It took five men in his unit…including his best friend.

Everyone knew Logan should’ve been the one to die, but God never worked by the opinions of man. Certainly not Logan’s. So he’d drawn up his courage and found Savannah out on Cross Creek Plantation, legs swinging as she sat in the old, handmade wooden swing that hung from the giant oak, a small smile on her face until she lifted her gaze to his. Before he’d even said a word, her eyes turned shiny and her hands began to shake. They clung to each other for hours after he told her, the start of a friendship between them. He’d told himself she needed him, but really, he’d needed her…

Now, he leaned back in his chair at Southern Sandwich and ran his encounter with Savannah over again and again in his head. It hadn’t gone at all like he imagined. Sure, her running into his arms, smiling and planting her deliciously full lips on his was a little dramatic, but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so…enraged.

The waitress appeared at his table, a coffeepot in hand. “Whatcha having, honey?” she asked, her hip cocked against the table. Logan tried to place where he knew her and failed. Someone from high school, he felt sure. But then, Logan was never one to remember people from high school. He looked at her a little too long, and her bubbly demeanor quickly turned to disdain. “Sara Beth Trent. We dated.”

Logan cringed. Ah, he remembered now, though dated seemed a little strong of a word. If he remembered correctly, they went on one date when he returned from his third deployment—a short stint in Kuwait—and ended up in the back of his Jeep. Man, he loved that Jeep. He had never owned a luckier truck.

“Right. Of course,” Logan said, wishing he had tried a little harder to lie, but lying never came easily to him. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, so he spouted out his order. “I’ll have scrambled eggs and grits. Bacon on the side.” Sara Beth tsked, but filled the empty coffee cup on his table and strutted off, shaking her head.

He was going to have to be more careful now that he was back in town. He tried to remember how many women in Maple he had been with, but couldn’t come up with real faces or names. Too many, clearly. All in an effort to forget the one who fled to Boston and who apparently hated him now. Not that he could blame her. After all, he was the one who convinced Will to enlist. It was his fault Will was dead. And then Logan had done the unthinkable, and everything went to shit.

The bell on the shop’s door dinged, and in walked Jack Hale, Savannah’s brother. Jack was something of a celebrity in Maple Cove, after entering the minors and quickly being called up to the Cardinals. He had a five-year stretch where he was the best shortstop in baseball, but something changed after their father died, and while Jack was still good, he wasn’t the player he once was. Like the passion in him had disappeared.

A crowd formed around Jack, asking for autographs they already had. After signing a few, Jack peered around the shop and his eyes stopped on Logan, a smile breaking across his face. He nodded to him and then started his way. Years ago, they had played on the same team in high school, and though they had never stayed in touch, they were still friendly. Well, more so than he and Savannah. Though that might not be saying much.

Jack motioned to the chair across from Logan. “Care if I join you?”

“Nah, sit.” Logan kicked the chair out, and Jack sat just as Sara Beth came over, her fiery gaze now on Jack. Logan guessed he wasn’t the only one to mess around with Sara Beth. Unperturbed, Jack placed his order and then settled back in his chair.

“How are you holding up?”

Jack shrugged as he poured a cup of coffee. “Could be worse, but could be a hell of a lot better, too.”

“You seen your sister yet?” Logan asked, hoping maybe Savannah was angry at the world and not just him. Death could do that to a person. He knew that first hand.

“Not yet. Leigh has me picking up some lightbulbs at Jim’s, then I’m heading over. Hey, you wouldn’t be free after this, would you? I have to move a bookcase and could use an extra set of hands.”

Logan grinned as Sara Beth set his breakfast in front of him. “Nope. Not busy at all.”

...

“But how are we supposed to get up there?” Savannah scratched her head and stared up at the attic door in the ceiling, where supposedly her mama had kept the paperwork about the bed-and-breakfast in a safe. Their family attorney had her will, but nothing about how to actually run a bed-and-breakfast, or about the financials, which after Logan Park’s claim, she might not want to see.

She thought of Logan the way she’d last seen him before today, all broken and wrecked with grief, and of then the man on her front steps earlier, not a care in the world. How could he even come to her with talk of selling the bed-and-breakfast when her mother had just died? What kind of person did that? A heartless person, that’s who, and Savannah had known for eight years now that Logan was the definition of heartless.

Focusing back on the task in front of her, she jumped into the air to try to reach the tiny cord hanging from the attic door, but at five four—on a good day, when she stood really, really straight—her fingertips only grazed the end. “Ugh!” Hands on her hips, glaring at the attic door like it had single-handedly created all of her problems, she wondered why her mama opted to put the safe in the attic anyway. Why not the study? Or with their accountant? Or any one of a thousand other places? But then her mama had been known to do a lot of things that made little sense to Savannah.

“What now?”

Mrs. Cooke shook her head. “I don’t know, child. I think there’s a ladder in the basement. Want me to go hunt for it?”

Savannah waved her on. “No. I’ll go. But can you check the dining room and make sure no one’s waiting for anything?” She eyed her watch. How had four hours passed? She felt like she had just arrived, and already it was lunchtime. One thing she knew about the guests of Maple Cove’s Bed and Breakfast, they expected breakfast by eight and lunch by noon, every day. She didn’t want to disappoint them.

“Of course. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

Savannah smiled. “Oh, rest assured, I won’t call. I’ll scream.”

Mrs. Cooke’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve missed you around here. Won’t you stay?”

Savannah opened her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn’t stay. Her life was in Boston now. She had finally gotten promoted to account manager at Zelner Consulting and was handling her own accounts. She loved her job, even if the hours were excruciating and the pay, for the amount of hours she worked, left a lot to be desired.

But instead of saying any of that, she said, “I’ve missed you, too,” and hugged the woman close, because she had missed her. She had missed all of them.

Mrs. Cooke went on down the creaking hardwood steps and around the swirling white banister at the bottom and then out of sight. Savannah released a breath. She didn’t want to scare the employees. Not yet. Rumors of the bed-and-breakfast being on the market had already made their way around town, and she could see the question in each of their faces when she met them. They wanted to know if she would take over for her mother. She wished Leigh or Jack could do it, but that wasn’t possible. Leigh was too flighty and Jack was still contracted with the Cardinals, which left only Savannah.

Sighing heavily, she made her way down the steps to the door under the stairs, which opened to another set of steps leading to the basement. Savannah remembered being petrified of the basement as a kid. It was dark and damp and generally looked like the kind of place devil-worshipers would go to sacrifice small animals. Now she opened the door and started down the rickety steps, reminding herself that she was an adult. There was no reason to be afraid of the dark. Right? Though as the chilly air hit her, and goose bumps rose across her skin, she wasn’t convinced.

Once at the bottom, she reached up and pulled the chain on the light. A tiny stream of light spread out across the open area and she started forward, ignoring the goose bumps that refused to settle. Shivering from the cold, she wrinkled her nose at the musty smell and the spider webs hung like Halloween decor from wall to wall.

She glanced around for the ladder, prepared to dash in, grab it, and dash out. Finally, she spied it against the back wall and cursed her forever-bad luck. “Fantastic. Thank you. Couldn’t you hang out over here?” she said then shook her head at herself, because now she was talking to a freaking ladder.

Knowing it wouldn’t magically land in her hands, she drew up her courage and dashed across the basement, grabbed the ladder, and dragged it back to the steps, her heart hammering and her hands shaking more than they should. Laughing at her silly fear, she lifted the ladder with the intent of carrying it upstairs, but the top rung immediately hit the low ceiling of the steps. She eyed the stairs and then the ladder, and was trying to figure out how she could get it upstairs without accidentally knocking a hole in a wall when the distinct sound of running water hit her ears. She leaned the ladder against the wall and crept forward, listening. Where was that coming from?

Pushing aside spider webs, she edged to the farthest corner of the open room and pressed her ear to the door there, listening. That was when she caught sight of the water trickling out from under the door. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

She opened the door and gasped. Inside, an exposed pipe sprayed water like a yard sprinkler on a hot summer day. Everything in its path was drenched—boxes, blankets, an old couch—everything.

Savannah rushed into the room and tried to wrap her hands around the pipe, but that pressure must have been the final straw. The pipe burst, shooting water out in all directions and soaking Savannah from head-to-toe. She screamed out for help, while trying frantically to stop the rush of water.

“Savannah! Are you down here?”

“Yes! Help!” Before Savannah had time to process who she had just called for, Logan was in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

“Need some help?”

Clearly, this day was trying to break her.

...

Logan’s grin widened as he took in Savannah’s appearance. She was soaked through, like she had jumped into the Cherokee without a thought of a swimsuit. He opened his mouth to jokingly ask if she needed a towel, when his gaze landed on her white tank top and the lacey bra that barely covered her perfect, round breasts. He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on something other than how her nipples stood at full attention. Likely she wouldn’t appreciate him calling out just how exposed she was at the moment.

“Where’s the water main?” he shouted over the pounding water.

“What?” Savannah tossed up her hands like she wanted to scream—or cry. “I don’t know! What’s a water main?”

Logan bit back a smile and edged into the room, looking around until he found where he could turn off the water. Once it stopped, Logan pushed his soaked blond locks out of his eyes and peered over at Savannah. “You all right?”

She shook her head, and Logan thought she might break down. Instead, she burst out laughing, the sound so amazing it was as though it were meant just for him. “If Mama could see me now,” she said, still laughing. “She always said bad luck followed me around like a shadow. I guess she was right.”

“Ah, now, I don’t call it bad luck. I call it interesting,” Logan said as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and shook out his wet hair. He glanced up to find Savannah watching him, the anger he felt from her earlier replaced with something else. He swallowed hard and took a step toward her, his mouth open to say the words he had wanted to say all day—that he was sorry, that he was wrong to leave, that he missed her—when Jack and Leigh came running into the room.

“Oh, shit!” Jack said, examining the inches of water. “What did you do?” Savannah’s eyes lit with rage and she darted for him, her fists clenched, but Logan stepped between them. He knew all too well how feisty Savannah could be, and he would hate to see Jack return to Saint Louis with a shiner.

“It’s just an old pipe,” Logan said. “I’ll call Jim. He’ll get this fixed up in no time.”

Savannah glanced at Logan. “Thank you.” Her expression was careful, her voice low, almost a whisper, and he wondered if it was because she didn’t want to thank him or if it was because she remembered how they had been before.

“You’re welcome.” Their eyes connected again. A single beat, a moment, but Logan couldn’t deny the electricity that moved between them. He spent eight years trying to get over the woman, and then in just a few hours, he was back to that day in the rain, just the two of them under the weeping willow by the lake at Cross Creek Plantation, his heart hers for the taking.

He nodded toward the doorway. “I’ll go check in with Jim.”

“All right,” Savannah said, her cheeks suddenly flushed. She bit her bottom lip and Logan’s gaze dropped, everything in him wishing it were his teeth taking that bite instead of hers.

He cleared his throat and met her gaze once more, shocked to find her watching him as intently. Was it Logan’s imagination, or was she just as affected by him as he was by her?