She looked down at the dress. “I also thought about chopping it up, and each week I’d send him a piece in the mail, but then I figured that might be considered harassment and I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve only just regained my freedom.”
“Freedom?” another voice asked.
With a squeal, she turned, placing her hand over her racing heart. The dress nearly fell from her hands, and she dragged it back up. The damn thing weighed a ton.
“Where did you come from?” she squeaked up at the huge man looming over her. He had to be at least a foot taller than she was. He glared down at her. She glared back. She didn’t know why he was so grumpy she was the one he’d nearly given a heart attack.
“I’ve been standing here the whole time. You brushed right past me.”
“Oh.” She had? “Sorry I didn’t notice you. I was focused on my dress. I promise it’s not because you’re not memorable or anything. I’m sure I would have noticed you eventually.”
“I’m not so sure,” he muttered.
She frowned slightly, uncertain what he meant.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” Jeez, he was in a bad mood. Still, she guessed nobody liked to be overlooked. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed him. He was even taller than the other cowboy, and, boy, those shoulders. She’d always had a thing for wide shoulders. And hands. She loved a man’s hands.
Well, not Alistair’s hands. They’d been as soft as the rest of him.
She sighed. She wasn’t being fair. She was sure Alistair would make someone a very good husband.
If that someone liked lying, rat-bastard, selfish, cheating assholes.
“Hello? You okay?”
The extra-big cowboy waved his hand in front of her face.
“Yes, of course. My car has a flat tire, though.” Idiot, Savannah. They know that. “I was hiding in the ditch because I was worried you guys might be serial killers or something.”
“What made you decide we’re not?”
“Logan,” the other one warned.
She frowned slightly. “I don’t know; you just don’t sound like serial killers.”
“What the hell does a serial killer sound like?” Logan’s eyes widened. Cool name. Very cowboy.
“I don’t know. Maybe more like this, Clarice.” She did her best impression of Hannibal Lector.
Logan looked over at the other one. “Can you believe this?”
The other one started to laugh, and she turned back to him. He seemed to be the friendlier of the two, even if he had dropped her dress in the dirt.
“I’m Savannah.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Max looked down at the perfectly manicured hand the tiny blonde held out. Damn, she was something else. Crazy as hell. Talked way too much. But gorgeous. Those blue eyes, the blonde curls, her curves. He felt his body stir. He might have had his fair share of female companionship over the years, but the truth was, he was getting tired of just hooking up with a woman when the urge became too great to ignore.
He wanted a real woman. One he could hold close all night. Someone he could talk to. Someone he could call his. And even though Logan would probably deny it, he wanted the same thing.
Logan had let Gary’s mental abuse get to him. That bastard had taken great pleasure in telling Logan how stupid he was, how he’d never amount to anything. His brother had sunk so deeply into himself few people knew the real Logan. The one who’d give his last dollar to help someone in need.
Reaching out, he clasped her hand in his. The zing that crossed his palm surprised him. He saw her eyes widen and knew she’d felt it too.
“Hello, Savannah, I’m Max.” He kept hold of her hand for a moment longer than he should have. Then he let go. The loss of her touch was like a kick to the gut, and it took him a few breaths before he trusted himself to speak properly. “The big guy is my brother, Logan. We have a spread a few miles up. The Blue Moon Ranch.”
She glanced from Max to Logan, looking slightly nervous.