Saving Savannah

“Zane?”

The door to my shop hung open, and Zane was gone. He’d rushed out so quickly I didn’t even see him leave.

I checked the street. The crowds were even thicker than before. A few people looked back at me curiously, then glanced over my shoulder at my broken window. With nothing else to do, I made my way back inside and began sweeping up.

“Motherfucker.”

I was down on my hands and knees, picking razor-sharp slivers of glass from my beautiful Persian rug when Zane finally returned. He was red-faced and out of breath. Two of my fingertips were already bleeding.

“I’m sorry…” he apologized unnecessarily. “I ran left and right, but I didn’t see who—”

“Your fly is open.”

He looked down at me curiously for a second or two, then quickly zipped up. Realizing what I was doing he knelt down to help, but I stood up and waved him away.

“Don’t bother,” I said. “I need to buy a vacuum anyway.”

“What the hell happened?”

I didn’t have to guess at what happened, I already knew.

“Apparently I’m having trouble with the locals.”

Zane squinted back at me like I’d just spoken Mandarin. “You… wait, what?”

“Turns out the palm and tarot card reading business is pretty fucking competitive,” I spat angrily. I dumped the broken glass over my little garbage pail and rubbed my hands together. “Who knew, right?”

“So you have an idea who did this?”

“Yes,” I answered. “But also, no.”

Whoever the woman was, I realized I knew nothing about her. Other than the fact that — judging by the way she was dressed alone — she was probably in direct competition with me.

A cold breeze wafted in, sending a chill through my body. I was pissed as hell. Even more so that my once-quiet shop was now filled with street noise and chatter.

“I’ve gotta call a window service and get this fixed,” I said with a sigh. “Or maybe the sign guys could do it when they come. Shit, I haven’t even opened yet.”

“I could help you—”

“No, no,” I said, without really thinking. “You’ve done enough for me already. You bought me lunch, and saved me from dicey meat. And we broke in my reading table together.”

“I distracted you,” Zane interjected. “Kept you from setting up shop. Maybe even got your window broken, because if you hadn’t been in the back room—”

“If I hadn’t been in the back room I might be picking this glass out of my eyes,” I jumped in. “Seriously, you probably did me a favor. An unintentional favor, dripping with ulterior motives…” I smiled weakly, “but a favor nonetheless.”

He stared at me a little longer, making sure I was alright. Making sure there was nothing else he could do for me, without pushing the issue. I appreciated the effort. I was getting a sense that the tall blond was as sweet as he was beautiful.

“Alright,” he said, dipping into the back room for his jacket. “Just promise me two things.”

“What?”

“One, you’ll stay out of trouble. And away from windows.”

“And two?”

Zane reached out, placing two big hands on my shoulders. He leaned down and gave me a kiss that sent a ripple of heat through my body.

“That you’ll call us,” he said, nodding again toward the armoire.