“He’s your ex. You’re a free woman. An attractive, sweet, free woman.” Her gaze jumped back to his, assessing, as if she didn’t believe him. “And I’d really like to get to know you better.”
She smiled, threaded her fingers, and rested her hands on the table. “I like you, Ian. I really do. Every other man in town lets Hank bully them into compliance. Which is why I’m saying no.” She shook her head. “This is your fresh start, and I don’t want Hank to ruin it.”
“You mean like trying to get me fired on my first day?”
Her spine straightened; her eyes widened. “What?”
“I only left the shop to get something to eat because Hank was giving Mo an earful about me.”
“No.” She breathed the word, clearly stricken.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Oh my God, I’m so—”
He pressed his index finger to her lips to halt the apology. They were soft and supple. And Ian had an urgent and immediate need to feel them under his own.
His gaze dropped to her perfect lips beneath his thick, rough, calloused finger, and something raw and primal clawed low in his gut. He couldn’t deny it—he wanted her.
When she didn’t move away from his touch, Ian forced himself to lower his hand. But it drifted to hers, covering hers with a reassuring squeeze. Again, she didn’t pull away.
“No more apologizing for him,” Ian told her. “You make Jamison take responsibility for his words and actions. Hold Hank accountable. He’s a grown man who makes his own choices. In truth, he’s nothing more than your average bully; you said it yourself. But he’s messing with the most important things in your life—your freedom and your son. It’s not right. I don’t care how he tries to hurt me, I’m not backing down. Believe me, baby, I’ve dealt with assholes far worse than Hank.”
The endearment had come out automatically, but it felt right. He was on a slippery slope into dangerous territory with this woman. If he didn’t watch his step, he’d find himself in a landslide.
“So, dinner,” he said, more a statement than a question. “Friday.”
She lowered her gaze to their hands and stroked the side of his little finger with her thumb. The gesture was so sweet, it pinched something deep in Ian’s gut and spread tingles up his arm. Her gaze met his again. “It would take planning…”
He grinned, far too happy with this small measure of progress. “Then you’re with the right guy.”
Savannah checked her appearance for what felt like the hundredth time. She slid her hands down the front of the wraparound sweater she’d borrowed from Misty. It was so soft, she couldn’t keep from touching it. It also made her waist look small, her breasts full. Coupled with her one pair of nice jeans and a trendy pair of Misty’s boots, Savannah saw a different woman looking back at her from the mirror in the living room. A trendy, sexy woman.
Misty had insisted she wear her hair down, and added a touch of makeup to Savannah’s eyes, cheeks, and lips. The overall effect made Savannah remember what life had been like before everything went south with Hank. When she was carefree in college. When she had friends and fun in her life. When her whole future lay ahead of her. When anything was possible.
The tingle of impending tears tickled her nose. She tugged at the white cami peeking from under the sweater, trying to cover a little more cleavage. “I should cancel.”
Misty looked up from the puzzle she and Jamison were working on. “What? Why?”
She glanced at Jamison and found him oblivious, his tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth as he tried to find the perfect fit for a puzzle piece. Instead of meeting Misty’s gaze, she looked at herself again. “What’s the point?”
Misty stood from where she sat on the floor at the coffee table and stepped up behind Savannah. Her friend had plugged in her portable speaker to her cell phone, and a mix of country and rock played through the living room.
“Nerves are normal.” Misty’s voice was low, for Savannah’s ears only. She reached around and drew Savannah’s hair off her shoulders, letting it fall down her back. “It means you’re alive. It means you like him.”
“It means I could get hurt,” Savannah countered. “Or that I could hurt someone else.”
“You told him to come around back, right?”
“He figured it out by himself. It still surprises me that he hasn’t run screaming from Hank’s threats.”
“It doesn’t surprise me. You’re worth it. And the fact that he’s jumping through the hoops Hank creates only mean’s he’s willing to take the risk for you. The least you could do is return the favor.” Misty wrapped her arms around Savannah’s waist and rested her chin on her shoulder, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Because without risk, there’s no life. You’ve lived in captivity long enough.” Then she grinned and lowered her voice another notch. “And if you cancel on sex on a stick, I’m going to dinner with him.”
Savannah laughed and elbowed Misty. “Shut up.”
Her friend stepped back and stroked Savannah’s hair one more time. “I will. Just watch me. He’s way too hot to be stood up.”
Savannah grinned at Misty’s tease and turned away from the mirror. A knock sounded on the back door, and Savannah’s smile stiffened. An effervescent sizzle coursed through her chest—nerves, excitement, fear.