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The One She Left Behind
KRISTI GOLD
You can go home againAt eighteen, Savannah Greer has a dream and one shot to make it happen. Choosing big-city success in corporate law means putting her family's farm–and Sam McBriar–in her past. Now, years later, she's on a path toward home. And she has every intention of keeping the visit brief.Too bad life gets in the way.With Sam managing the farm, Savannah can't help but see him–everywhere! He's as gorgeous as ever, and when he's with his little girl? Well, it would take a stronger woman than Savannah to resist him. It's not long before they're picking up where they left off…until old betrayals and long-buried secrets threaten to separate them for good.



“So are you game?”
Matt looked at Savannah. “It’s way past time to have a proper reunion of the original six-pack.”
For some stupid reason, she glanced at Sam as if she needed his permission. Worse still, he sat there in silence, looking completely noncommittal.
“Talk her into it, McBriar.”
Sam’s smirk turned into a frown. “She can make up her own mind. If she doesn’t want to do something, then I sure as hell can’t make her do it.”
In Savannah’s opinion, he’d all but confirmed he would rather she not show up. That alone served as a good enough reason to attend the little soiree. She could tolerate Sam for a few hours. Besides, she truly wanted to connect with her old friends, even if she didn’t count Sam among them.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Savannah?”
She turned to find Sam leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It means spending an entire night with me.”

Dear Reader,
First love…
Two simple words that have the potential to evoke complicated emotions. If you’ve ever been in love, you’re bound to have one because—let’s face it—we all have to start somewhere.
Interestingly enough, I stumbled across a survey that claimed only twenty-five percent of women actually marry their first love. Maybe so, but I can almost guarantee the other seventy-five percent have never forgotten theirs. In my experience, when the subject has come up during a group discussion, I’ve noticed that some people have fond recollections, others express their foolishness and a few have even spoken of regrets. I venture a guess that every now and then many have asked themselves “What if?” What if things had been different? What if we had stayed together? What if I unexpectedly ran into him on the street? What would I say?
Those questions served as inspiration for The One She Left Behind, a story involving what once was and what possibly could be again if old recriminations can be put aside. A roller coaster ride into the past that changes two people’s perspectives on life, love and forgiveness. One of my personal favorite plots—a reunion in every sense.
I truly hope you enjoy the first book in the Delta Secrets miniseries, where you’ll meet a group of high school friends once known as the six-pack. In the meantime, I wish you fond memories, good friends and happy reading!
Kristi Gold

The One She Left Behind
Kristi Gold

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristi Gold has always believed that love has remarkable healing powers and she feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice winner and a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from personal stories shared by readers and networking with other authors, both published and aspiring. You may contact Kristi through her website, www.kristigold.com, on Facebook or through snail mail at P.O. Box 24197, Waco, Texas 76702 (please include an SASE for response).
In loving memory of my husband, Steve—
Husband, father, healer.
My hero

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE
AS THE CLASSIC COUNTRY ballad began to play, Savannah Greer’s past came tumbling back on a white-water rush of memories. The song of love and leaving brought to mind another place and another time, a bridge long since crossed, but unfortunately not quite burned.
From her perch on a barstool at the diner’s counter, she glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to see the proverbial man from her past lounging in the back booth, weathered guitar in hand, his expression as bitter as the words he’d delivered more than a decade ago. But she only caught sight of a rotund farmer standing by the ancient jukebox, the culprit who’d unwittingly sent her imagination into overdrive with one careless selection.
Savannah turned back to the counter, took another sip of the frosted root beer and frowned. She’d never been particularly fond of the drink, or nostalgia, which left her questioning why she’d bothered to stop in at Stan’s on the way to the farm. Truth was, she’d wanted to delay dealing with the grief over losing her beloved father, and being home would simply make it all too real. She also didn’t look forward to seeing her mother again, yet prolonging the reunion would only fuel Ruth Greer’s well-established disapproval of her daughter.
With that in mind, Savannah reached inside her wallet, withdrew two dollar bills and handed them to the waitress—a fresh-faced young woman who had to be close to the same age she’d been when she’d shed this godforsaken Mississippi Delta town. The girl smiled, slid two quarters across the counter and said, “Y’all come back now.”
“Have a nice evening,” Savannah muttered, yet she wanted desperately to tell the teenager to get out of Placid while she still could, before the place sucked the life out of her.
She left the change on the counter and hurried toward the exit, craving freedom, only to face her past head-on when the door opened before she could escape.
He moved into the room like a shadow at sundown, all hard-shell insolence and towering height, his dark hair just long enough to be deemed disreputable in such a conservative community. He stared at her for a moment and when recognition dawned, a mocking smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Laughter rumbled low in his throat and crinkled the corners of his dark blue eyes, dredging up images of riotous storms and uncontrolled passion. He thumbed the brim of his baseball cap up from his brow and studied her from head to toe with all the cockiness of a seventeen-year-old jock. “Looks like Savvy’s come back to town.”
Savannah’s feet refused to move from the worn tiled floor. She couldn’t manage a step, not one step, for that meant she would again be moving toward him, not away.
You’re not a child, Savannah. Leave.
Clutching her purse to her chest, she simply said, “Goodbye, Sam,” then brushed past him and rushed out into the humid June evening.
As she strode across the gravel parking lot toward her car, she heard the all-too-familiar voice call out, “Walking away again, Savannah?”
Ignoring the condemnation in his tone, Savannah quickened her pace. But against her better judgment, she paused to take another backward glance and discovered Sam leaning against the bed of a shiny black truck parked near the entrance, arms folded across his chest, looking as if he expected her to run back to him.
When her gaze again connected with his, Savannah’s pulse beat a staccato rhythm in her ears as her nerves unraveled like an old woven rug.
What was wrong with her? She was behaving like some kid who’d gone to see the latest slasher movie, afraid to witness the terror on the screen, yet unable to resist some primitive calling to do that very thing. To face the fear. In this case, the man and the memories.
As she climbed into the safety of her sedan, Savannah attributed the unwelcome reaction to the remnants of an idealistic teenage perception of love. After all, she’d worked so hard to ignore those times when a warm breeze would blow across her face and remind her of him. She only needed to recall his parting words all those years ago to ground herself in reality.
Go on and leave, Savannah. I hope to God you never come back.
But she had come back—only to discover that if a person didn’t kill all those feelings for an old love, they would remain dormant until one summer day years later, they broke through like spring grass, changing your perspective. Interrupting your comfortable life. Again breaking your heart.
Surrounded by tattered recollections of the town where she’d spent her formative years, among the place of shattered dreams, that realization pummeled Savannah like an iron fist. And so did awareness that her greatest fear had come to pass. Even after a dozen years, Samuel Jamison McBriar, her first love—her first lover—could still affect her.

AS IF TIME HAD DONE AN about-face, Sam watched her drive away again, leaving him standing in front of the diner to deal with a truckload of recollections and more than a few regrets.
He had no one but himself to blame for the sudden shock of seeing Savannah Greer. He could’ve driven past the parking lot when he’d caught sight of the Illinois plates. He could’ve put off the encounter until he paid his respects at her father’s funeral tomorrow. He could’ve waited one more day to satisfy his curiosity over how much she’d changed. The answer to that—not much. She was probably a few pounds heavier, not a bad thing considering she’d been rail-thin as a teenager. Definitely as pretty as he remembered. Her dark brown eyes looked the same and her hair was still golden blond, but not as long as before. He’d bet his last ten acres she still had a stubborn streak, one of the qualities that had attracted him when he’d been a sucker for girls who could hold their own in a battle of wills.
So, lost in his thoughts, Sam didn’t notice a car had pulled up in the adjacent space until he heard “Daddy!” followed by the sound of six-year-old feet pounding across the gravel. He barely had time to brace himself before his daughter threw her arms around his waist with enough force that he took a step backward to maintain his balance.
“Whoa there, Joe,” he said as he lifted her into his arms and tugged at her dark brown ponytail.
She popped a kiss on his chin and grinned, displaying the blank space where her top two teeth had been the last time he’d seen her a month ago. “I’m not Joe, Daddy. I’m Jamie.”
“I know that,” he said as he set her back on her feet. “I’m the one who named you, kiddo. And it looks like you left a couple of your choppers at home.”
She touched her bare gums. “The tooth fairy brought me five bucks, Daddy.”
“Which she spent on candy even though I strictly forbade it.”
Sam turned toward the sound of the voice belonging to the other blonde in his life. Correction. The second blonde who’d left him. But when it came to his ex-wife’s parting, he’d played a major role. “Hey, Darlene. I thought you weren’t going to be here for another hour.”
She set a miniature purple suitcase down onto the ground at his boots. “From the minute she climbed out of bed this morning, Miss Jamie kept bugging me, so we started out early. Luckily I spotted your truck before we drove all the way out to the farm.”
Jamie tugged on his hand to get his attention. “Can I get a chocolate shake, Daddy? I had my dinner.”
Normally he’d give his permission without a thought, but he’d learned to defer to her mother to keep the peace. “It’s okay with me, as long as your mom says it’s okay.”
Darlene waved in the direction of the diner. “Fine. Your sweet tooth is going to be your dad’s problem for the next few days.”
Sam caught Jamie’s arm before she took off. “Sit by the window so I can see you, and don’t talk to strangers.” As if that were going to happen. Strangers were a rare occurrence in Placid, but he preferred to err on the side of caution. “I’ll be in as soon as I say goodbye to your mom.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she called out, then headed at a dead run into Stan’s, slamming the door behind her.
Once he made sure Jamie had followed orders and climbed into the designated booth, Sam turned back to Darlene. “I could’ve driven to Memphis and picked her up.”
“I told you I planned to stop by Mom’s and Dad’s, remember?”
Right now Sam had trouble remembering anything except seeing Savannah again and the lingering bitterness mixed with the same stupid spark of lust.
“Are you okay, Sam?” Darlene asked when he failed to respond.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because when we pulled up, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
Not so far from the truth. A ghost from his past. She’d come and gone so quickly, he wasn’t sure she hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. “I just ran into Savannah Greer. She’s in town for her father’s funeral.”
Darlene’s expression went cold. “Well, that explains a lot.”
He didn’t have to ask what she’d meant by that. During their years together, she’d often accused him of carrying a torch for his former high school sweetheart. Not true. Savannah’s disregard still burned like a brand, and ultimately the end of his and Darlene’s marriage had come when they’d both discovered they made better friends than spouses.
Recognizing a subject change would prevent more speculation, Sam pointed at Darlene’s swollen belly. “Are you sure that baby’s not due until October?”
She laid her palm on her abdomen and scowled. “That’s exactly what my husband said to me last night. Today he’s not walking straight.”
Sam laughed. “Tell Brent he has my sympathy, and warn him that your mood doesn’t get any better until about thirty minutes after you deliver. But you do have some fine moments when your hormones kick in.”
She reluctantly smiled. “I think he’s already figured that out. And speaking of Brent, I need to go. I’ll see you Friday.”
“You bet.” He hesitated a moment, feeling as if he needed to reaffirm that she’d made the right choice by leaving him behind. “I’m glad you and Brent are happy, Darlene. You deserve to be.”
Finally, she smiled. “I am happy, Sam, and I hope you find someone who makes you happy, too. But that’s not going to happen in this town. All the women are either underage, have a foot in the hereafter or they’re married.”
Didn’t he know it. But he wasn’t inclined to go too long without company and he did have a couple of local gals who readily accommodated him when he called. “I’ve got the farm to keep me busy. I’m doing okay.”
She sent him a skeptical look. “Right, Sam. I don’t know a man who doesn’t want a woman’s company every now and then, especially you. But then again, since Savannah’s back in town, maybe you can remedy that.”
She was determined to take hold of that old jealousy and shake it like a hound with a hambone. “That’s ancient history, Darlene. I haven’t seen her or talked to her in twelve years.” Twelve long years. “I don’t have a clue what she’s up to now.”
“My guess is she’s probably married.”
“She’s not.”
Darlene cracked a cynic’s smile. “No clue what she’s been doing, huh?”
The longer this conversation went on, the greater the risk for revealing that he’d kept up with Savannah through her parents. “I better get inside before Jamie orders two chocolate shakes and downs them both.”
“True.” Darlene climbed into her sedan and powered down the window. “Make sure she wears shoes most of the time.”
“I’ll try,” he said as she backed out of the space and drove away. But he wouldn’t force the issue. Nothing better than curling your bare toes in some good old black Delta dirt, exactly what he’d told Savannah during their first introduction. As if it had happened yesterday, he recalled exactly what she’d been wearing—a pair of leg-revealing white shorts, a fitted navy blue tank top and no shoes. He’d been a goner from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Strange that he remembered those details. Maybe not so strange at all. He remembered a lot of particulars about their time together, especially that day in this very diner when he’d intentionally stomped on her heart the moment she told him she was leaving.
Long ago he’d learned that everyone eventually leaves. Still, even after all this time, he couldn’t stop the resentment that boiled just beneath the surface. And if he had any sense at all, he’d steer clear of her. Unfortunately, he’d never had much sense when it came to Savannah Greer. But he wasn’t that kid anymore, and the man had no use for her.

AS SAVANNAH STOOD BEFORE the white clapboard house that had been in her mother’s family for three generations, she was immediately drawn in by the familiar song of the katydid, the pungent scent of freshly plowed earth and fragrant magnolia blossoms. But appreciation of the old home place hadn’t come quickly or easily. They’d moved here from Knoxville the summer she’d turned fourteen, and she’d hated leaving the city and her friends. She’d basically thought her life was over. Had it not been for her father’s encouragement, she might have seriously considered running away.
You’ll learn to love it here, Savannah. I promise…
Like the remember-when song that had played in the diner, her father’s gentle voice filtered into her mind. The image of his kind green eyes had been forever etched in her memory like the butterflies he’d taught her to capture in her palms. She had always let them go after inspecting their wings. If only she could release the painful loss with such ease. If only she could get past the equally painful memories of her mother’s constant scorn.
She reminded herself why she’d come back here—to say goodbye to her daddy. But now that she thought about it, in many ways her daddy had left her some time ago. The little girl still loved him, yet her adult heart couldn’t forget how he’d never stood up to his wife, never sided with his child even when she had been wronged. He simply remained neutral in the ongoing battle between mother and daughter.
None of that mattered now. Her father was gone, and she wasn’t little Savannah from Placid. She was grownup Savannah from Chicago. And she could face whatever she must in order to put the past to rest.
Savannah drew in a fortifying breath and slowly opened the door. As she stepped into the foyer, the steady drone of conversation filtered into the entry hall. She set her bags at the bottom of the staircase and when she walked into the living room, all talk ceased. Thankfully, the first face she saw was a welcome one.
“Savannah, my goodness.” Her mother’s sister crossed the room and touched Savannah’s cheek as if she were an ethereal presence. “Law, girl, you’re still as pretty as ever.”
Savannah drew her into a hearty hug. “It’s so good to see you, Aunt May.”
May dabbed at her misty eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Look, Ruth, your baby girl’s come home.”
Savannah turned her attention to the woman standing near the fireplace, her frame as rigid as the floor lamp in the corner. When she locked into her mother’s stern gaze, she found no warmth in the dark brown eyes so much like her own.
“You’re late, Savannah.” Both her tone and expression indicated her displeasure.
“Yes, Mother, I’m late. But I did come home.”
“Yes, you did. This time.”
No other words passed between them. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t already been said.
A nervous cough broke through the awkward silence, switching Savannah’s focus to the place that housed her father’s favorite lounger, where her uncle Bill now stood. “You sure do look good, Savannah,” he said. “Real productive.”
Savannah smoothed the sleeves of the tailored blue suit. “Thank you, Uncle Bill. You’re looking as sharp as ever.”
He hooked his thumbs in the suspenders he’d worn for as long as she could remember. “Still have that story-book imagination, do you, gal? That’s okay.” He patted his belly. “I appreciate your kind words.”
Just as well as she knew the well-worn loomed rug beneath the coffee table, Savannah recognized that few kind words would be thrown around this evening, at least when it came to her mother.
“There’s lots of food in the kitchen, darlin’,” Aunt May said, nervously kneading the handkerchief. “The neighbors have been real nice, bringing in casseroles and desserts and I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you grab a plate and come sit so we can all catch up.”
Savannah slowly surveyed the area to see if any other visitors had crouched in the corner, hiding away from the tension that filled the room like Uncle Bill’s pipe smoke. She released the breath she’d been holding when she discovered no one else was around. “I thought maybe I’d go by the funeral home.”
“The visitation was over an hour ago,” her mother said, more disdain in her voice. “I called you and told you the time.”
Just one of her many shortcomings as far as her mother was concerned. Ruth hated tardiness as much as she hated missing her Monday night bridge game. Since it was Monday, that could account for her irritable mood. But had she ever really needed a reason?
In the interest of peace, Savannah answered, “I’m sorry. I had to take care of a few last-minute briefs and postpone two court dates before I could get on the road.” Suddenly she’d become the apologetic daughter again. Always ready to please, but never quite able to do enough. “I think I’ll grab that coffee,” she said as she dropped her purse onto the piano bench. “Can I get anyone anything?”
Her mother turned away as May raised a trembling hand to her plump neck. “No, honey, we’ve eaten enough to kill a moose. Just help yourself.”
Savannah couldn’t get away quickly enough. She’d surely suffocate if she had to stay two days, much less the planned two weeks. But she’d promised to remain for the reading of the will. Settle whatever needed to be settled, at least from a legal standpoint. She supposed her status as an attorney had as much to do with that as her role as a family member.
Traveling down the corridor past the gallery of photos hanging on the knotty pine walls, Savannah stopped at the small table in the center of the hall and ran a hand over the age-yellowed lace covering. Everything was the same, including the vine-covered vase centered below her parents’ wedding photograph. In a fit of anger, she’d broken that vase, right after her mother had insisted Savannah stop hanging out with Sam because he only wanted “one thing.” She could see the veins where it had been glued back together, still carried the scar on her knee from a cut she’d gotten while trying to pick up the pieces, remembered her mother’s disapproval. Yes, some things never changed, and apparently her mother had been right—Sam had only wanted “one thing.”
Making her way into the deserted kitchen, Savannah took the silver pot from the counter and poured a cup of coffee. She sat in one chair positioned around the small dinette, thankful for some time alone. The reality of her father’s death coupled with seeing Sam again was almost too much to handle, but she wouldn’t cry. At least not yet. Not until she was safely in bed, alone with her grief.
A few moments later, May breezed into the room carrying two empty glasses that she set in the sink before regarding Savannah. “It’s been over five years since you’ve been here, honey. You should try to get along with your mama for both hers and your daddy’s sake.”
She’d given up on that prospect in her teens, and it had been seven years, not five, since her last trip home, something she didn’t care to point out. “I know, May, but she doesn’t seem to be willing to call a truce. I just wish I knew what I did to cause her to hate me.” Aside from the typical teenage rebellion.
May’s gaze snapped to hers. “She doesn’t hate you, honey. She loves you more than you realize. She’s just a hard woman to understand, but she’s a good woman.”
Savannah couldn’t remember when she’d witnessed that goodness. On second thought, she did recall a time when Ruth Greer had been more affectionate, more like a real mother. Yet that had all come to an end not long after Savannah passed into puberty. “I’ve tried to understand her, Aunt May. Even now, I’m having trouble with that. She doesn’t seem to be at all upset that Dad’s gone.”
May rinsed the glasses, set them on the drainboard and then wiped her hands on a dish towel. “People deal with their grief in different ways, Savannah. Ruth has seen a lot of loss and hardship in her lifetime. First, our daddy died when she was only ten and I was just a baby. Then Mama had only been married to Papa Don a couple of years before she went to be with the angels.”
Oddly, Savannah had never met her stepgrandfather and her mother had rarely mentioned him at all. She didn’t even learn about his passing until her parents announced they were moving back to the farm in Placid. “I agree, losing two parents at such a young age is more loss than any child should have to endure.” But as far as she was concerned, that didn’t excuse a mother’s unexplained hostility directed at her own child.
May claimed the chair across from Savannah and folded her hands on the cloth-covered surface. “Ruth practically raised me all by herself until she turned seventeen and married Floyd. When they decided to move to Knoxville, she took me with them. Lord knows she didn’t have to do that when she could’ve foisted me off on Granny Kendrick, God rest her soul, and that’s if she made it into heaven.”
Savannah couldn’t help but smile when she thought about all the legendary stories involving her eccentric great-grandmother. “Why didn’t you stay here with Don?”
May shook her head. “It was a sad state of affairs. To hear Ruth tell it, he took to the bottle after Mama died. He spent most of his days drunk and he wasn’t fit to take care of me, not that I remember much about him or that time since I was so young. I’m not sure he would’ve kept me around even if he had been sobered up. He never paid me much mind, both before and after we moved away. In fact, I spoke to him maybe twice in the years before he died. If I asked about him, your mama refused to say anything one way or the other.”
Savannah suspected there could be a lot more to the stepfather story. “I realize how much you appreciate Mother, May, and I do understand why you would. But that doesn’t explain her attitude toward me.”
May straightened and sent Savannah a disapproving look. “Like I said, she’s been through a lot. She had to get me raised before she even thought about having a baby of her own. That didn’t happen until years after I was grown and gone.” Her expression softened. “She was so happy when you were born, and so was your daddy. They’d waited so long for you.”
How well Savannah knew that. She’d been the only girl in Placid High who had parents in their mid-fifties. But that didn’t really matter, especially where her father had been concerned. He’d always seemed so young for his age, and that made his passing even more difficult to accept.
Feeling a sudden onset of fatigue as well as utter sorrow, Savannah feigned a yawn. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go up to my room and read awhile before I turn in.” And attempt to check her cell phone, although coverage in the area was sketchy at best. That was okay. She hadn’t had a real vacation from work in years. They could do without her for a couple of weeks.
May reached across the table and patted Savannah’s hand. “Tomorrow will be another long day, too, because I’m sure you’ll see your old friends. Rachel and Jessica are still around and, of course, there’s Sam—”
“I’ve already seen him,” Savannah said abruptly, before adding, “I stopped by the diner for something to drink and he was coming in when I was going out.”
“I hear he’s making a good living with the farm,”
May continued. “In fact, he just bought a brand-new truck with all the bells and whistles.”
As if she should care what Sam was driving these days. Besides, she’d already seen that new truck, and she hadn’t been impressed. “How nice.”
“Did you know he married the Clements girl?” May asked, as if determined to cram Sam’s life down Savannah’s throat.
She’d come by that knowledge after she’d left Placid, and it had hurt more than she’d cared to admit. Darlene Clements had been the girl from one county over whom Sam had taken to the prom instead of her. The same girl who’d relentlessly pursued him throughout their high school years. Obviously she’d caught him. “I’d heard that.”
May sighed. “And their little girl is as precious as a puppy.”
That she hadn’t heard. “I didn’t realize he had a daughter.”
“She’s about six now,” May added. “And it’s such a shame that she comes from a broken home. Divorce is a terrible thing for a child to go through.”
Divorce?
Savannah didn’t know which shocked her more—that Sam and Darlene’s marriage had ended, or that he’d fathered a child. “When did they split up?”
“A couple of years ago, maybe longer. Didn’t your mama tell you?”
“She never tells me anything, May.” And neither had her old girlfriends, but she’d only sporadically spoken to them over the past few years.
Savannah scooted back from the table and stood before she had to endure any more unexpected news. “Tell Mother I’ll see her in the morning.”
May looked completely dismayed. “You should tell her.”
Yes, she should, and she supposed she could make it brief. “You’re right.”
After giving her aunt another hug, Savannah left the kitchen and returned to the living room, where she found her uncle watching a sitcom rerun. “Where’s Mother?” she asked when she discovered Ruth had disappeared.
Bill put down the television remote and smiled. “She’s in her room, sugar. She said she has one of her sick headaches.”
Savannah had no doubt she’d contributed to that headache. “Before I retire for the night, do you and Aunt May need anything? Extra towels or linens?”
“Your mama saw to that when we came in yesterday. Now you scoot along and get some rest. And just so you know, the weatherman’s calling for storms tonight.”
An appropriate ending to a perfectly dreadful evening, Savannah decided.
As soon as she doled out a hug for her uncle, she grabbed up her bags, scaled the stairs and entered her old bedroom at the end of the hall. She closed the door behind her before turning to survey the place where she’d spent many a night during her teen years, talking on the phone for hours with her girlfriends, and Sam. Everything still looked much the same as it had when she’d left for college. The pink-and-blue patchwork quilt still covered the double bed. The shelves flanking the floral-cushioned window seat still held all the mementos of her youth—withered corsages, movie ticket stubs, debate trophies.
After setting her bags on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, she walked to the bureau and removed a favorite snapshot from the mirror. The photo—taken on the beach in Gulfport—featured the inseparable group of friends known to their fellow students as “the six-pack.” Best buddies Chase Reed and Jessica Keller sat side by side on the sand in the middle of the group. Childhood sweethearts Rachel Wainwright and Matt Boyd had claimed the spot on the right, Rachel’s head resting on Matt’s shoulder. And of course, she and Sam sat to the left, holding each other tightly, Sam’s beat-up guitar at their feet. They’d easily assumed the role as Placid High’s designated “hottest couple.” But it hadn’t been a farce. It had been real.
How young they all looked. How hopeful and ready to take on the world. Forever friends, they’d vowed. Then everything had changed after graduation. Still, the picture signified that she’d seen more than her share of good times in Placid. But those fond reminiscences were all a part of the distant past, and that’s where they would stay. Yet at the sound of rain pelting the window, another memory came back to Savannah, as bright as the flash of lightning on the horizon.
A surprise midnight visit one misty fall evening. A few well tossed pebbles to garner her attention. A trellis perfect for climbing. One love-struck girl who still believed in happily-ever-after. One teenage boy driven by raging hormones. An easily removed screen and a kiss so hot it could have set the roof on fire.
Sam had begged her to come inside, but she hadn’t allowed it. At least not that particular night.?…
All in the past, Savannah kept reminding herself as she hauled her suitcase onto the bed and began to unpack. No good ever came of rehashing old history, her mother had told her time and again. She couldn’t agree more, but that didn’t keep her from remembering. That didn’t prevent the sudden sense of sadness when she turned her attention to another framed photograph resting on the nightstand, the one of her and her father at the Tennessee State Fair when she was eight years old.
Remorse hit her like a blow to the heart. She should have come home more often. She should have insisted that he come to visit her in Chicago even if her mother had refused to make the trip. She should have known something was wrong during their last conversation when he’d told her several times how proud he was of her, how much he loved her and then asked her to forgive her mother. She should have been there to hold his hand when he’d died.
Savannah couldn’t contain the sorrow any more than she could stop the storm. With the photo clutched against her chest, she stretched out on her back across the bed and released all her pent-up anguish. The tears fell hot against her cheek as she mourned the loss of her father and her inability to earn her mother’s love. She grieved the innocence she no longer possessed. She even allowed herself to cry for all the promises Sam had broken, and most important…for what might have been.

CHAPTER TWO
THE CROWD OF MOURNERS gathered around the gravesite was as thick as the Delta humidity, leading Sam to believe well over half of Placid’s population had come to say goodbye to Floyd Greer. If things had turned out differently all those years ago, he might’ve been sitting with the family with his arm around Savannah, comforting her. Instead, he stood several feet away, on the outside looking in.
Not long after the minister delivered the final prayer, Savannah appeared from beneath the green funeral tent, flanked by her aunt and uncle. When he noticed Ruth Greer trailing behind the trio, Sam figured the problems between mother and daughter hadn’t disappeared, and that was a damn shame. His own mother hadn’t stuck around long enough to build any kind of relationship with him, good, bad or indifferent. At times like these, people needed someone to lean on—except maybe Savannah.
She held her head high as she accepted condolences from the townsfolk, forcing a smile every now and then. Although she looked composed on the surface, Sam knew better. She’d always been inclined to keep her emotions bottled up inside so no one could see her suffering. Not that he was one to talk. But with Savannah, things had been different. He had been different. They’d served as each other’s sounding board and leaning shoulder from the moment she’d arrived in Placid.
And that had all ended a long time ago…?.
“Done any fishin’ lately, Mac?”
Only one person ever called him Mac. Sam turned to find Chase Reed standing behind him, dressed in a civilian suit instead of the Army-issue uniform he’d been wearing the last time he’d seen his best friend over a half-dozen years ago.
Sam grinned and offered his hand. “I’ll be damned, Reed. I heard they’d finally let you out, but I didn’t believe it.”
Chase shook Sam’s hand and smiled, but it didn’t form all the way. “I’d had about all the active duty I could take.”
Sam imagined he had. Three tours in a war zone would be more than most men could take, and the stress showed in Chase’s features. He had a definite edge about him now, unlike the kid who’d been the happy-go-lucky golden boy.
Sam felt damn guilty that he hadn’t stayed in touch nearly enough during Chase’s absence, but he’d never been great at correspondence. “How long have you been back?” he asked.
“For a couple of weeks.”
Looked like his friend was punishing him for that lack of communication. “And you didn’t call and let me know you were in town?”
“I had to help Dad clean out the old sharecropper cabin behind the house so I’d have a place to stay.” Chase shook his head. “Pretty sad, living at home at the age of thirty-one.”
Sam could relate. “I’ve been living at home since I left college and even after I married.” Just one more thing that hadn’t set too well with his ex-wife.
“Sorry to hear it didn’t work out between you and Darlene,” Chase said.
“It was just one of those things.” One of those things that Sam sometimes regretted because of the impact on his daughter. “When you get a chance, you need to stop by and see my kid. She’s going to be with me all week.”
Chase barked out a laugh. “I’m still trying to picture you with a kid. Is she here now?”
A funeral was no place for a six-year-old, as far as Sam was concerned. “She’s back at the farm with Hank Anderson’s girl.”
Chase frowned. “Hank’s got a kid that’s old enough to babysit?”
Sam shrugged out of his sports coat and draped it over his arm, finding little relief from the midmorning heat. “Yeah. Hank’s two years older than us and his daughter was born right after he graduated.”
“Man, that makes me feel old.” Chase shook his head and studied the ground. “Time passes way too fast.”
Sam dealt with that issue every time he looked at his child. “I know what you mean. One minute, Jamie’s in diapers and the next, she’s a hell-on-wheels kindergartner and a natural-born flirt. No telling what I’ll be facing when she’s sixteen and she discovers boys.”
“That serves you right, Mac,” Chase said. “Now you’ll know firsthand why Savannah’s parents used to give you hell when you dated her.”
Sam suddenly remembered where he was and why. “It’s going to be tough, not having Floyd around. He was one of the good guys.”
“Yeah, he was.” Chase remained silent for a time before he added, “I heard Wainwright’s bank has been calling in loans on some of the farms. The greedy bastard.”
That was a subject that made Sam as angry as Chase sounded. Edwin Wainwright was the biggest SOB in three counties, and a rich one at that. “You heard right. That’s why I took my banking business elsewhere when I started upgrading the farm.”
Chase’s expression turned to stone as he focused on some point behind Sam. “Speaking of bastards,” he muttered.
After facing the mourners again, Sam immediately caught sight of the reason for his friend’s caustic tone. Dalton Wainwright, the son of the man who’d dubbed himself the king of Placid, had stopped to visit with Savannah. And Dalton’s wife, the former Jessica Keller, stood by his side.
Not everything had changed, Sam decided. During their high school years, Chase had always despised Dalton Wainwright. Obviously he still did.
“I can’t believe she’s still married to him, and I can’t believe she has a kid by him, either,” Chase said, more malice in his tone. “He didn’t deserve her back then, and he doesn’t deserve her now.”
Yep, his friend’s hatred still burned bright as a bonfire. “Have you talked to Jess since you’ve been back?”
Chase kept his gaze trained on Dalton in a menacing glare. “He won’t let her out of his sight, and if I came less than two feet from him, I’d kill him.”
The comment caught the attention of Pearl Allworth, who was standing nearby. She scowled at Chase but Sam noticed a gleam in the town gossip’s rheumy eyes, like a starving woman who’d just been tossed a prime steak. He also noticed the glare Dalton leveled on Chase as he led Jess away. A look that said, “She’s mine.”
Sam decided it would be best if he diverted Chase’s attention before he took off after Dalton and started a scene to feed the rumor mill for months. He centered his attention on Matt Boyd, who’d stopped to speak with Savannah. “Too bad Rachel’s not here. Matt said she wasn’t feeling well this morning. I suspect I know what ails her. She’s got a bun in the oven.”
Chase continued to stare at Jess as she headed away. “Nah. Not after all these years. Matt’s too busy playing the county cow doctor instead of breeding his wife.”
Sam grinned. “That might be the case, but I’ve still got a gut feeling Rachel’s pregnant.”
“And I think he’s more concerned about Gabe Wooley’s band of heifers than making his own baby,” Chase said. “Twenty bucks says she has a virus.”
Sam took Chase’s offered hand and shook on the deal. “You’re on.”
They shared a laugh before Sam noticed Savannah heading toward the black limousine parked at the curb. When their gazes briefly met, she immediately looked away, but he continued to watch her until she disappeared into the car.
“Savannah still looks good, Mac,” Chase said.
Time to play ignorant. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re lying.”
Yeah, he was. “Okay, maybe she hasn’t changed much, but neither has her attitude toward me. Not that I give a damn. I have just as much right to resent her, too.”
“Give it a rest, McBriar,” Chase said. “We were all kids back then. You need to get over the past.”
Savannah wasn’t inclined to bury their past any more than he was. She’d proven that yesterday when she’d run out on him again at the diner. She was proving it right now by pretending he wasn’t there. Not a problem. He wasn’t in the mood to reconnect with her, either. But he did have to admit she still looked great. Really great. He could admire her from a distance, and leave it at that.
Chase patted him on the back. “Why don’t you come with me to the Greers’ to pay our respects. That way you can get a better look at her.”
So much for not being obvious in his admiration. “You go ahead without me. Right now I need to get back to Jamie. I’ll make a point to look in on the family later this evening.”
Just for grins, he also planned to have a talk with Savannah to satisfy his curiosity. To learn if she’d gotten what she’d wanted all along—a life that hadn’t included him. And he knew exactly when and where he’d find her.

SAVANNAH LOVED THIS TIME of day, right after the sun had set over the fields and the summer air had cooled to a tolerable temperature. Initially when they’d moved to Placid, she’d despised the flat plane of the land that seemed to go on for miles. She’d hated that so many trees had been cut down and plowed under for the sake of agriculture. She’d detested everything about the area, until the day she’d discovered the small bridge rising over the dried-up creek bed that separated her parents’ farm from the McBriars’ acreage. A welcome break in the barren landscape where the live oaks had been spared. Her very own private oasis, both then and now.
Nothing had really changed, except for the new wooden planks beneath her feet. Most likely Sam had taken it upon himself to make sure the bridge remained solid and stable with his own two hands. He’d always been good with his hands.
Savannah ran her palm over the message that she’d carved into the railing years ago—Sam and Savannah Forever. A typical and foolish teenage pronouncement of love. Or maybe for Sam it had simply been lust. Without warning, the image of their secret meeting place hidden by the nearby copse of woods filtered into her mind. A place where she and Sam had learned so much about each other, both physically and emotionally. Especially physically. Many times they’d lain together on a blanket, experimenting and exploring each other eagerly, but not quite going “all the way” for a solid two years. Then came the night of her seventeenth birthday when, alone in her bedroom, he’d said “Please” and she’d said “Yes.”
After she heard the rustle of leaves followed by footsteps, Savannah turned her attention to her left to discover Sam emerging from behind the curtain of trees, as if she’d somehow psychically summoned him. Yet he wasn’t the lanky boy of yesterday. He’d matured in body with a broader chest and more bulk. Instead of T-shirt and jeans, he wore black dress slacks and a white tailored shirt. He carried a brown paper bag, not the age-worn guitar he’d oftentimes brought with him in their youth. But those cobalt blue eyes still held the power to reel her in like a hummingbird to sugar water.
As Sam approached with a self-assured gait, a sudden, sharp sense of awareness caught Savannah off guard. Her frame went rigid, as if she needed to physically brace against the impact of his presence. She had imagined this moment, dreaded it in some ways. Hoped for it. For years she’d avoided it.
He paused at the end of the bridge and sized her up, much the same as he had the day before in the diner, his expression unreadable. And as he continued on, Savannah struggled for words. Maybe she should offer an apology for being so abrupt yesterday, in spite of the fact he still owed her one for the way he’d treated her years ago. Then again, maybe not. She would be adult, coolly polite, but she wouldn’t grovel.
“Hello,” she said as soon as he stood a few feet from her.
Sam offered her the sack but no greeting. “I’ve been instructed to give you this.”
She took the bag and asked, “What is it?”
“Gracie’s pecan pie.”
Savannah fondly remembered the housekeeper who’d treated her like one of the family. “I can’t believe you still have Gracie.”
“Yeah, I still have Gracie,” he said without even a hint of a smile.
Now what? Bid him goodbye and leave? If she had any sense at all, that’s exactly what she would do. Yet curiosity overcame common sense. “Aunt May told me you had a daughter. What’s her name?”
He streaked a palm over the back of his neck. “Jamie.”
“Congratulations.” If only she could sound more sincere, but the shock over Sam choosing the name they’d planned to give their own child reflected in her tone.
“Still practicing law?”
“Yes,” she said, ignoring the obvious disdain in his tone. “It’s hard work but it has its rewards.”
“I can’t imagine keeping corporate CEOs out of hot water would be all that damn rewarding, so it must be the money.”
Clearly he’d learned she’d chosen corporate law, and apparently he didn’t approve. Not that she cared what he thought about her career choice. “I’ve represented struggling small businesses as well, sometimes pro bono, so it’s not all about the money.”
“If you say so.”
His overt sarcasm drove her need to get away from the bitterness that was almost palpable. “I better go. Mother’s probably wondering where I am.” Then again, probably not. “Give Jim and Gracie my love and let them know I miss them. I didn’t have an opportunity to speak with them at length after the funeral.”
His expression turned stoic as stone. “You could tell them before you run back to Chicago.”
Obviously he wasn’t going to do her any favors or cut her any slack. “I’ll try to stop by for a visit before I leave.” In spite of the possible emotional upheaval, she also wanted to see Sam’s daughter.
“Fine.” Without further hesitation, he turned and headed away, as if he had nothing else to say to her. As if he had no use for her.
She shouldn’t be surprised, nor should she feel anything but relief. But as she started across the bridge toward home, Savannah experienced an overwhelming sense of emptiness, just as she had that day in the diner when they’d ended a close-knit relationship with hurtful words neither could ever take back. She hated the feelings. Hated that he could still strip her emotions bare. Hated him for acting as if nothing had ever existed between them. Hated herself for still caring.
Just as Savannah stepped off the last wooden plank, Sam called her name, stopping her progress. She faced him again and simply answered, “Yes?”
He kept perfectly still while he kept his gaze locked into hers. “Do you regret it now?”
She frowned. “Regret what?”
“Leaving town to get what you wanted, and staying away from your family when they needed you most.”
They meaning her father. She couldn’t disregard the dagger he’d thrust right into the heart of her guilt. Obviously he wanted to hurt her again, and he was doing a fairly good job. “I did what I had to do to make a life for myself, Sam. Maybe you never understood it, but my dad always did.”
“You’re probably right about that,” he said. “But you might want to ask yourself if it was really worth it.”
With that, Sam spun around and strode away, leaving Savannah alone to ponder his words and the questions whirling around in her mind. Questions she didn’t dare ask him…or herself.

HE’D NEVER SEEN A SWEETER sight—except for maybe the one he’d seen earlier on the bridge. Sam immediately pushed thoughts of Savannah from his mind to concentrate on his daughter dressed in a pink polka-dot gown curled up in his dad’s lap, her thumb stuck in her mouth, her eyes closed against the overhead light. Her hair was as dark as his dad’s was gray.
Sam raked the baseball cap off his head and dropped down in the chair across from his dad. “How long has she been asleep?” he asked in a near-whisper.
Jamie’s eyes popped open and she raised her head. “I’m not asleep, Daddy. I’m just restin’ my eyes.”
Exactly what he’d told her several times when he’d drifted off in front of the TV during one of her favorite cartoons. “You looked pretty asleep to me, Joe. If you didn’t have your thumb in your mouth, you would’ve been snoring like your grandpa.”
She looked more than a little perturbed. “I don’t snore, Daddy.”
“Neither do I,” his dad added.
“Oh, yes, you do, Jamison McBriar,” came from the direction of the kitchen. “Like a steam engine about to blow.”
Sam chuckled. “Guess Gracie would know.”
Jamie worked her way off Jim’s lap and climbed into Sam’s. “Did you see Ruthie?” she asked.
Lying was out of the question, but he’d have hell to pay if he told the truth. Vague would probably work best. “No, sweetheart,” he said as he pushed a curl from her forehead. “I just dropped off the pie and left.”
“Did you see Ruthie’s daughter, Daddy?”
So much for avoiding the truth. “Yeah, I saw her. I gave her the pie.”
She grinned and said, “Papaw says she used to be your girlfriend,” followed by a giggle.
Sam sent Jim a nasty look. “That was a long time ago.”
Jamie yawned and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss Floyd. He used to let me ride on the tractor.”
Sam had always felt that Floyd considered Jamie the granddaughter he’d never had. “We’re all going to miss him, kiddo. He was a good man.”
“The best,” Jim said. “He would’ve given you his last pair of jeans if you needed ’em.”
Jamie raised her head and looked at Sam straight on. “Is Ruthie sad?”
“Yeah, I imagine she is.”
“Kind of hard to tell with Ruth,” Jim added. “She’s as strong as a barbed-wire fence.”
Jamie glanced at her grandfather before turning back to Sam. “I want to see Ruthie in the morning, Daddy. I want to tell her I’m sad, too.”
He could think of several reasons why that might not be such a good idea. “Maybe we’ll see her in a couple of days.”
Jamie shook her head. “I want to see her tomorrow. We can go after we feed the cows.”
She looked so determined, Sam couldn’t refuse. “Okay, but we’ll only stay for a little while.” Otherwise, Savannah might decide to boot him off the premises.
Jamie put on her “old soul” face, as Darlene always called it. “Why do people have to die, Daddy?”
A question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s just a part of life, sweetheart.”
Fortunately, Sam’s stepmother entered the room with a book in hand before he had to offer a more lengthy explanation. As far as he was concerned, Gracie hadn’t changed much since the day she’d become their housekeeper. Maybe her hair was a little grayer. Maybe she had a few more wrinkles. But overall, she was still Gracie, the godsend. “You don’t need to worry your pretty head about that, sugar pie,” she said as she tossed her braid back off her shoulder. “Now let’s get you to bed so we can finish reading the penguin story.”
Seemingly satisfied to leave the question be for now, Jamie slid her feet onto the floor and started toward the hall. Sam halted her progress when he asked, “Are you forgetting something, Joe?”
She ran back to him and kissed his cheek. “’Night, Daddy.”
“’Night, sweetheart. Watch out for those bitin’ bedbugs.”
Jamie flashed him a dimpled grin. “There ain’t no bedbugs, Daddy.”
Sam started to correct her bad grammar, but he’d save that for later—right before he gave her back to her mother.
After Jamie kissed her granddad good-night, she took Gracie’s hand and tugged her toward the bedroom, chatting all the way down the hall about visiting Ruth and meeting “Daddy’s old girlfriend.”
Sam tilted his head back against the sofa and momentarily closed his eyes. He opened them to his father’s “you’re in trouble, boy” stare, reminding him of other times when he’d had to face Jim McBriar’s wrath for something he’d done wrong. For the life of him, he had no idea what he’d done now. He imagined he was about to find out.
Jim stretched his legs out before him and rested his palms on his slightly bulging belly. “Did you have a nice talk with Savannah when you went to the Greers’?”
He should’ve seen this coming. “I didn’t go to the house. I met her on the bridge, handed over the pie and had a two-minute conversation with her. End of story.”
“Was there water under the bridge?”
Sam knew exactly what his father was getting at, and he refused to take the bait. “That gully’s been dried up for years.”
“That’s too bad because a bridge without water can be pretty useless.”
A few more moments of silent scrutiny passed before Jim added, “You know, the word grudge rhymes with smudge. And that’s exactly what a grudge is—an ugly smudge on the soul that needs to be cleaned away.”
If there was one thing Sam couldn’t stand, it was beating around the bush. “What’s your point, Dad?”
“My point is that at one time, you and Savannah meant the world to each other. A little forgiveness goes a long way.”
“I have forgiven her.” But he sure as hell hadn’t forgotten the way she’d left, or why.
Jim leaned forward, hands clasped between his parted knees. “No, you haven’t forgiven her, just like you never forgave your mother. And let me tell you something, son. Savannah isn’t your mother. Your mother was running to something—a new life. Savannah was running away.”
Man, he didn’t want to hear this. “You mean from me.”
His dad released a rough sigh. “It was never about you, boy. There was a lot of hurt going on in that house.”
“Yeah, and Ruth was doling out most of it.”
Jim pinned him with a harsh stare. “Ruth’s reasoning is not for us to judge, Sam. Not unless we’ve lived in her shoes.”
Sam only knew that Ruth’s behavior bordered on cruelty where Savannah had been concerned. Ruth hadn’t been too keen on him, either, at least back then. “Can we just move out of the past and onto another subject?”
“Fair enough,” Jim said as he leaned back against the couch. “I hear tell that Ruth’s selling the farm to Wainwright.”
The course of the conversation wasn’t much better than the previous one. “That’s what I hear, too.”
“My guess is he’ll probably tear the house down and build something on it.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do with the house, but he’s going to lease the land to me.”
Sam didn’t think his dad’s face could get any redder. “What in the hell were you thinkin’ when you climbed into cahoots with that SOB?”
Gracie entered the room and nailed her husband with a glare. “Lower your voice, Jimmy. You granddaughter’s trying to sleep. And must we use such crude language when an impressionable child’s in the house?”
Jim pointed at Sam. “Our boy just told me he’s going to lease the Greer land from that snake Wainwright.”
Gracie’s gaze snapped to Sam. “What in the hell are you thinking, Samuel Jamison McBriar?”
So much for the crude language and lower your voice warning. “I’m thinking I might as well lease it or someone else will. Maybe even someone who wouldn’t treat the place the way Floyd would’ve wanted it to be treated. Wainwright could sell it to some corporate operation that’ll set up shop right next door to us. Not to mention we could use the extra money to hire hands from a whole slew of people who need jobs.”
Jim came to his feet. “You could use some horse sense, son. Deals with the devil come with a price.”
Maybe so, but Sam was willing to take his chances. “I’ll handle Wainwright.”
Gracie smirked. “And I’m going to fly over the fields tomorrow without the benefit of an airplane, too.”
“Does Savannah know about this?” Jim asked.
That was one obstacle he didn’t care to consider at the moment. “I don’t know what she knows, Dad, and honestly, I doubt she cares unless she has some fool notion to keep the place in the family. That’s about as likely as Gracie taking flight in the morning.”
He exchanged a smile with Gracie before his dad said, “I guess you know what you’re doing, Sam. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite you on the butt.”
Sam was too tired to argue the point. Besides, the deal with Wainwright was all but done, and he almost never went back on his word. Not in the past few years. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing, Dad. You didn’t waste your money on my college education.”
“You definitely have smarts, son,” Jim said. “At least when it comes to running this farm. Now, as far as your personal life goes, you might have been behind the door when they handed out the common sense.”
Gracie slid onto the chair’s arm. “Leave the man alone, Jimmy. He’s just had some bad luck in the relationship department.”
That was the last thing he cared to discuss. “If you’re finished lecturing me, Dad, I’m going to tell my kid good-night and get some sleep.” He rose from the sofa and turned his attention to Gracie. “Since Jamie has her mind set on seeing Ruth tomorrow, do you mind taking her by the house?”
“She’s got to start baking for the summer festival,” his dad answered for her. “Lots and lots of cakes and cookies.”
Yeah, right. “Unless someone changed the date, the festival doesn’t start until Saturday.”
“True, but Gracie likes to get things done early.” Jim winked at his wife. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
After the confusion left Gracie’s face, she said, “That’s right. Besides, you should take Jamie by and check on the family. Ruth might need a hand with something.”
“Plus, we’ve already paid our respects and actually made it into the house,” his dad added. “And while you’re there, mind your manners and be nice to Savannah.”
Okay, he’d mind his manners. As far as being nice to Savannah, well, that was a stretch. He could play at being civil for his family’s sake but he sure as hell wouldn’t be her best friend. She gave up that right the day she walked out of town and never looked back.

CHAPTER THREE
MUTED VOICES FILTERING IN through the open bedroom window pulled Savannah out of a deep sleep. After glancing at the clock and noting the time, she practically vaulted out of bed. She rarely slept past dawn, much less 9:00 a.m., even on weekends. Her dad used to say that life was too short to snooze it away, and she’d never forgotten it. For a few moments she allowed the loss of her father, the ever-present grief, to subside before she faced the day—and her mother.
Savannah dressed in a faded purple T-shirt and a pair of tacky white knit shorts before heading to the hall bath to complete her morning ritual. Her unruly hair was a hopeless cause, thanks to going to bed with it wet, so she piled it into a ponytail and padded down the stairs in desperate need of caffeine. She found a fresh pot of coffee on the kitchen stove and blueberry muffins on the counter, but not a soul in sight. Then she recalled the earlier sounds of conversation and decided her aunt, uncle and mother had opted to enjoy their breakfast on the front porch.
Savannah ignored the muffins and grabbed a cup of coffee to take outside. The moment she opened the front door, the summer scent of fresh-mown grass assaulted her senses and resurrected more memories. Good memories of walking barefoot in clover and chasing fireflies at night.
When she stepped onto the porch, Savannah pulled up short. Not only did she find May, Bill and her mother seated on the chairs scattered around the weathered wooden decking, two others had joined them. A little girl with dark, dark hair and cobalt blue eyes stared at her from her perch on the porch swing. And next to that little girl, the man who had occupied her dreams more nights than she could count.
“Have a seat, young ’un.” Uncle Bill stood and gestured toward the only unoccupied chair, which happened to be much too close to Sam. If he were in the next county, that would be too close.
Savannah refused to give in to the urge to sprint back into the house. Instead, she took the offered chair, coffee mug gripped tightly in her hand. “Good morning,” she managed, relieved that her voice didn’t give away her nervousness.
Her mother, in typical fashion, nixed the greeting to ask, “Where are your shoes, Savannah Leigh?”
She hadn’t even realized she was barefoot. She never went without shoes outside the house these days—under normal circumstances. Nothing about this little morning soiree seemed normal. “They’re inside,” she muttered, wishing she could crawl into the nearby well. She could only imagine how she looked—wild-haired, wild-eyed, worn-out and shabby. Not that she should care one whit what Sam McBriar thought about her appearance.
“You’re pretty,” the little girl said, followed by a toothless grin. Then she turned to Sam and said, “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?”
Oh, Lord. This child was looking for confirmation from the wrong person.
“Yeah, she is,” Sam responded, surprising the fool out of Savannah.
She took a sip of coffee to soothe her parched throat. “You’re very pretty, too, and you must be Jamie,” she said, offering up a smile.
“You’re Savannah and you used to be Daddy’s girlfriend.”
Luckily she hadn’t taken another drink of coffee, otherwise it might have ended up all over the front of Uncle Bill’s overalls.
“That’s right, Jamie,” May answered when Savannah didn’t. “But that was quite a little while ago.”
“Before he met my mommy?” Jamie asked.
“A few years before,” Savannah said, although that wasn’t quite accurate. Darlene had had her eye on Sam since junior high.
Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, Jamie scooted off the swing and climbed into—of all people— Ruth Greer’s lap. And Ruth, who only moments before looked as if her face might crack if she moved her lips, gave Jamie the sweetest of smiles. “Are you sad, Ruthie?” Jamie asked.
“A little,” Ruth said. “But Floyd wouldn’t want us to be sad. If he were here, he’d tell us to wake up—”
“And enjoy the day,” Jamie finished. “I bet he’s saying the same thing in heaven.”
Ruth brushed a stray hair from Jamie’s forehead. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Jamie slid from Ruth’s lap and took her hand. “Can we go work on the quilt, Ruthie?”
Savannah recalled the wedding-ring quilt she’d worked on with her mother when she was a little older than Jamie. The quilt she’d refused to work on after they’d moved to Placid.
“Maybe we should go home and let Ruth rest, Jamie,” Sam interjected.
“Nonsense,” Ruth said. “You come on in the house with me, sweet girl, and we’ll cut out a square or two, as long as your dad says it’s okay.”
“Can I, Daddy?” Jamie pleaded in a voice designed to persuade a resistant parent. Savannah had used that tactic with her own father and it never failed to work wonders.
“For a while,” Sam said. “Gracie needs you to help her bake some cookies when we get home, remember?”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “I can do both, Daddy.”
And just like that, Savannah’s mother led Sam’s child through the screen door without a second glance at her own daughter.
Savannah didn’t know how to feel. Sad? Yes. Memories of a better time brought about some serious melancholy. Envious? A little, but not of Jamie. The envy came from the thought of what could have been between mother and daughter if their relationship hadn’t gone sour.
Bill shoved out of his chair and offered his hand to May. “Guess we better get to town before lunchtime, darlin’.”
May stood and sent her husband a smile. “That sounds like a plan.”
Not to Savannah. If they left, she’d be all alone with Sam. “I could go for you, Aunt May.”
From the appearance of Sam’s cynical grin, he’d noticed the desperation in her tone.
May flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll take care of it, honey. We just need to pick up your mother’s headache medicine and a few groceries at the market.”
Groceries? They still had a mountain of food left from the wake. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any bother.”
Bill fished a set of keys from his pocket. “You just stay here, little britches, and visit with your friend.”
She would if she had a real friend present. Unless she found an excuse to make a hasty departure, she had no choice but to be stuck with Sam since her relatives had already made it halfway to the car before she could say another word. If she didn’t know better, she might believe this little private time between ex-lovers had been planned.
Tension as stifling as the humidity hung on the air as Savannah drummed her fingers on the table’s surface. She supposed going into the house was an option, but she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle a few minutes in his presence. After all the times they’d talked for endless hours about nothing—or everything—she couldn’t thing of one blasted thing to contribute to a decent conversation.
Fortunately, Sam broke the silence by saying, “Gracie wants you to stop by before you leave.”
“I will,” she said. “And I still can’t believe Gracie hung around after the grief you gave her.”
He rocked the glider slightly with one heel. “She’s still around because she married Dad a couple of years ago.”
Just one more monumental event she hadn’t been aware of. “I’m really glad for them.” And she was. No two people were better suited for each other. At one time, she would have said the same thing about her and Sam.
He leaned forward and dangled his arms between his parted knees. Another span of silence passed before he asked, “How’s your mother holding up?”
Savannah shrugged. “Okay, I guess. You know Ruth. She’s not one to share her feelings. Me, on the other hand, I still can’t believe he’s gone…?.” The nagging lump in her throat captured her words for the time being. She didn’t care to cry in front of Sam. In front of anyone, for that matter. Not that she hadn’t cried in his arms before. Many, many times. But that was then, and this was now, and she didn’t need his solace, nor did she expect him to offer it.
“Floyd talked about you all the time,” Sam said, his voice surprisingly absent of animosity.
Savannah could only imagine how thrilled Sam must have been to hear regular accounts of her life. “I didn’t realize you spent so much time with my father.”
He leaned back against the swing. “We had our share of discussions about farming and the latest fertilizer, that sort of thing, but your name came up a lot. He thought you could do no wrong.”
“We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” When he didn’t bother to argue the point, she added, “He didn’t particularly care for you, at least when we were growing up, especially that time he caught you climbing up the trellis. I still can’t believe you handed him that ‘cat caught in a tree’ excuse when we didn’t even own a cat.” She couldn’t believe she was playing the remember-when game with a man who clearly had no intention of participating, evident by his lack of response.
He just sat there, studying her with narrowed eyes as if preparing to take his best shot. “Floyd wanted you to be happy, so are you?”
Savannah heard no genuine concern in his tone, only mild curiosity. In fact, he’d probably like to hear that her life was a mess just so he could say he’d told her so. “I have a great condo and a great job.”
He came to his feet, pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “No boyfriend? Or do you have several?”
Savannah hadn’t expected he’d ask such a leading question or that he would come so close to her. Then again, most likely he’d traveled into her personal space and private life to throw her off balance. In a way, it was working. She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as if she needed protection from him. Maybe she did. “I really don’t think you should be so concerned about my dating habits.” Which were basically nil at the moment, a little tidbit she didn’t dare toss out.
“Then the answer is no boyfriend.” He looked much too pleased with himself.
She’d rather eat red dirt than admit four years had passed since she’d had a serious relationship. “The answer is, it’s none of your business.”
“Sorry to hear you don’t have someone to keep you occupied.”
No, he wasn’t, and why did so many people believe she needed a man to be content? “I have a lot to do to keep me occupied, thank you very much. Chicago is a very exciting place. Lots of things to see and do.”
“Unlike Placid.”
“Definitely not like Placid,” she said. “I don’t have to travel far to shop for a decent pair of shoes.”
He barked out a cynical laugh. “I still remember the day we met. You were hoppin’ mad because there wasn’t a mall nearby.”
She’d been angry over leaving her friends behind in Knoxville and moving to Podunk, Mississippi. “I was barely fourteen, Sam. At the time, hanging out at the mall was my life.”
“You were spoiled, that’s for sure.”
Savannah’s ears began to ring. “I wasn’t spoiled. I just happened to be a typical teenager, not some hay-seed who thought riding around in the back of a pickup through the town square constituted a good time on Saturday night.”
Sam didn’t look the least bit ruffled by the insult. In fact, he seemed smug. “I’d rather have clean air and good neighbors than rush-hour traffic and strangers living next to me.”
Savannah lifted her chin in indignation. “I have neighbors.”
He sent her a skeptical look. “Oh, yeah? What are their names?”
She’d strolled right into that one. “Nancy and Phil.” Or maybe it was Janice and Will. She’d spoken to them twice since she’d moved into the condo three years ago.
Way past time for a subject change, and to restore some modicum of civility before they really started going at it. “Jamie’s a beautiful little girl, Sam. You and Darlene should be very proud of her.”
“We are.” Both his tone and expression verified that.
“And she’s so friendly,” Savannah said. “I’ve never seen my mother so taken with a child.” Not even her own child. Especially not her own child.
“Just a word of warning,” he said. “Dad told her the story about you chasing the sow.”
Great. Jim McBriar could have gone for an eternity without sharing that tale with anyone, much less a six-year-old. “Did he tell her that you let the pig out on purpose just so you could see me slip and slide through the mud while I was trying to get her back into the pen?”
“Probably not, because I never told him about that.”
Of course he hadn’t. “Good. I wouldn’t want her to know exactly how conniving her father can be.”
He narrowed his eyes into a glare. “That’s a little of that old ‘pot calling the kettle black’ behavior, isn’t it?”
So much for friendly conversation. In an effort to avoid more conflict, Savannah asked, “Are you still raising pigs?”
“Cattle. Last year I bought the Miller place so I could have extra pasture.”
One more shocker among many. “That land has been in the Miller family for years. I never thought I’d see the day when they’d give it up.”
Sam’s expression turned suddenly somber. “They’re not the only ones, Savannah. The Delta is economically depressed and people are suffering. Whole towns have closed up shop and family farms are being bought up by vultures like Wainwright. It makes me sick to see it happening and not be able to do a damn thing about it.”
“Then why do you stay?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Anger called out from his eyes and in his voice when he said, “Because my family helped build this town. Because if I don’t stay, then Placid might not survive. I’ll spend my last dying breath trying to prevent that from happening. Maybe you had no trouble walking away without looking back, but I never would.”
Sam’s loyalty to the town wasn’t new to Savannah, nor was his continued condemnation of her choices. Many times in the past he’d echoed the same sentiments. Still, she couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to champion a possible lost cause, or choose to permanently reside in a place with so few opportunities. Then again, she’d always known that Sam had wanted nothing more than a simple way of life. “I guess we both got what we wanted. I have my law career, and you got the farm, wife and child. Congratulations on meeting your goals.”
“Minus the wife,” he corrected, his gaze now fixed on some unknown focal point in the front yard.
“I’m so sorry to hear it didn’t work out with you and Darlene.” She couldn’t seem to mask the falseness in her tone.
He finally looked at her again. “We tried to make it work, but some things aren’t meant to be. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”
So had Savannah, and she’d never forgotten it.
The crunch of gravel beneath tires drew their attention to the driveway and the truck approaching the house in a cloud of dust. A truck she didn’t recognize until the driver exited the cab.
Matthew Boyd strolled up the path to the porch sporting a wide grin. To Savannah, he looked much the same with his light brown hair and eternally tanned skin that made him seem more surfer than veterinarian.
He walked right up to the table and stared down on her feet. “I swear, Savannah Leigh, you haven’t changed a bit. You still hate wearing shoes.”
Savannah stood and gave him a tight hug. “And you still love pointing that out, don’t you?” She looked around him toward the truck. “Where’s Rachel?”
“Buried in the clinic’s bookkeeping,” he said as he shook Sam’s hand. “She’s been under the weather, so she’s behind.”
Savannah reclaimed her chair and thankfully Matt took a seat between her and Sam. “I heard you mention Rachel’s not feeling well at the funeral,” she said. “Is it summer flu?”
Matt raked his cowboy hat off his head and swiped his arm across his forehead. “Could be. She’s been feeling better the past few days, which is why I’m here. She sent me by to invite you to join us at Barney’s tonight.”
Talk about a past-blast. “That old bar’s still open?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s open,” Sam said.
“And Barney even serves food now with the beer,” Matt added.
Savannah laughed. “He’s always served food. Box pizza and cold hot dogs, or so I’ve heard.” She’d only been to the place once, but she’d never gone inside. She’d waited in the car with Sam and Rachel while Matt retrieved his drunken father one weekend.
“Wednesday night is all-you-can-eat-ribs night,” Matt said.
“Sounds interesting.” Not that she was overly fond of ribs or beer.
“Anyway,” Matt continued, “we thought it might be nice to get the gang back together while you’re in town. Chase has already agreed to come and so has Sam.”
She couldn’t believe Sam hadn’t mentioned the little get-together during their conversation. Oh, yes, she could. He probably didn’t want her to go. “What about Jess?”
Matt shook his head. “Rachel’s going to call her, but don’t get your hopes up. Dalton keeps a pretty tight rein on her these days. We sure as hell don’t want him around, not that he’d show up. But he’s probably not going to let her come, either.”
Savannah was appalled to learn that her good friend Jessica—the former gregarious cheerleader—would let her husband dictate her every move. “I hope she does show up, because I’m really looking forward to seeing her. But if she doesn’t, I planned to stop by her house in the next few days anyway.”
“So are you game?” Matt asked. “It’s way past time to have a proper reunion of the original six-pack.”
For some stupid reason, she glanced at Sam as if she needed his permission. Worse still, he just sat there in silence, looking completely noncommittal. She could probably list a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t accept, but only one immediately came to mind. “I don’t remember how to get there.”
Matt pushed back from the table and stood. “You can ride with us. Is seven okay?”
“Seven sounds fine, if I decide to go. I’ll need to check with my mother first.” Apparently coming home had turned her into a child again.
“I imagine Ruth won’t care if you spend a couple of hours with old friends,” Matt said, then pointed at Sam. “Talk her into it, McBriar.”
Sam’s smirk turned into a frown. “She’s a grown woman. She can make up her own mind. If she doesn’t want to do something, then I sure as hell can’t make her do it.”
In Savannah’s opinion, he’d all but confirmed he would rather she not show up. That alone served as a good enough reason to attend the little soiree. “I’ll take you up on the ride.”
Matt grinned. “Great. We’ll pick you up around seven-thirty.”
“Didn’t you say seven?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, but you know Rachel. She’s always late.” Before Matt started down the steps, he turned and looked at Sam, then back at Savannah. “Hope the two of you get along for a change. I don’t want to deal with a barroom brawl and risk throwing my back out.”
Sporting a wily grin, Matt spun around and walked away, leaving Savannah without any retort. She could tolerate Sam for a few hours. Besides, she truly wanted to connect with her old friends, even if she didn’t count Sam among them.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Savannah?”
She turned to her left to find Sam leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest, looking much like he had when she’d left the diner the other day. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It means spending an entire night with me.”
An entire night? “It’s just an hour or two, Sam. We don’t have to communicate at all or even come near each other.”
His smile formed only halfway. A somewhat skeptical smile. “Yeah, you’re right. As long as you don’t have more than one drink.”
Another series of flashbacks ran through Savannah’s mind like a long-ago slide show. Memories of one night beneath the stars in his arms after she’d had her first wine. She shook off the recollections and firmed her frame. “Believe me, I can handle myself much better these days.”
Truth be known, she was a little worried and it had nothing to do with booze. Having a somewhat tense conversation with Sam on a porch in the sunlight seemed innocuous enough. But being in the presence of a former lover in a dim bar after a couple of drinks could wreak havoc on her common sense.
Not a chance. She didn’t intend to have more than one drink, if that. And she certainly wasn’t going to re-enact the mistakes of her youth.
She would go to see old friends. She’d have a good time, even if she had to fake it, and she was pretty darn good at faking it.

SHE DIDN’T WANT TO BE there. Sam could tell that about Savannah the minute she walked into the bar with Matt and Rachel. He could tell because she started wringing her hands like an old-time washer and her shoulders were about as stiff as Gracie’s old clothesline. She looked even more uncomfortable when a couple of people called out greetings as she worked her way through the rows of tables.
But damn, she still looked good. He’d almost forgotten how well she could fill out a pair of jeans. She filled out the black thin-strapped shirt pretty well, too. With her blond hair curling around her bare shoulders, those man-killing high heels, she’d make the grade as most men’s dream-girl fantasy and wish for reality.
He wasn’t the only man who’d noticed her, either. A group of young bucks seated at the bar gawked when she passed by, and so did a few guys who had come with their wives or dates.
In a country place full of country folk, in a bar with rough-hewn wood walls, a tin roof and seen-better-days furnishings, she stood out like tar against snow. But if those guys really knew her like Sam did, they wouldn’t give her a second look. And if they did, they ran the risk of getting burned.
Once the group reached the round table in the corner that Sam had claimed an hour earlier, Rachel and Matt moved ahead of Savannah and took the two high-back stools opposite him. That left only one option— Savannah was going to have to sit next to him, whether she liked it or not. He figured she wasn’t going to like it any more than he did.
Savannah confirmed his theory when she moved the stool as far from him as she could without landing in Rachel’s lap. She did turn to him to say, “Hello, Sam,” with a little too much formality for someone who once knew him better than anyone.
He returned her greeting with a less formal nod of acknowledgment, then followed with, “Where’s Chase?”
Matt hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We saw him at the pool tables with a group of women probably ten years his junior.”
No sooner had Matt finished the sentence than Chase walked up to the table and wrapped his ham-hock arms around Savannah. Sam couldn’t stop the harebrained thought “Hands off” when Chase looked her up and down like she was his favorite hot rod. “You’re looking mighty fine tonight, darlin’. Where have you been all my life?”
Savannah didn’t seem the least bit put off by the come-on and even grinned, which for some reason didn’t sit too well with Sam. “I’ve been avoiding silver-tongued devils like you, Chase. But it’s still good to see you even if you haven’t changed a bit.”
Sam disagreed with Savannah on that count. Chase was just trying too hard to convince people he was the same.
Chase took the empty stool on the other side of Sam and set it between Savannah and Rachel, causing everyone to have to shift position. That also meant that Savannah had to move closer to Sam. He might have found that amusing if her damn perfume didn’t smell so good.
“Has anyone ordered anything yet?” Chase asked as soon as he was seated.
Sam raised his hand to signal the sixty-something waitress who’d been a Barney’s fixture since the Confederacy rolled up the carpet. “Maybe she’ll be by to take our order before midnight.”
Savannah looked around before saying, “It’s sure crowded for a Wednesday. Must be the ribs.”
“It’s the band,” Chase added. “They come in from Memphis every Wednesday.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “And they let anyone who thinks they can sing have a shot. Nothing quite like spending the evening with a bunch of yahoos who erroneously believe they have talent.”
Matt nodded toward Sam. “He’s been known to sit in with the band every now and then.”
His friend could’ve gone all night without mentioning that. “Not in a while.”
Rachel rested her cheek on her palm and stared at him. “But you can sing, and I think you should give us a song tonight, just like in the old days.”
Sam held up his hands, palms forward. “No, thanks.”
“Come on, McBriar,” Chase said. “Do it for the six-pack.”
Luckily the waitress arrived to take their orders, halting the conversation. Normally he might perform a song or two, but he didn’t see any reason to take time away from his friends, except maybe Savannah.
She picked that moment to lean over, surprising the hell out of him. “What are you having?”
The urge to get the hell out of Dodge. “I ate before I left the house.”
“Why?”
“Because I was hungry.” He still was and she was looking pretty damn appetizing. Obviously he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.
“Then what do you recommend other than the ribs?” she asked.
“The burgers are okay.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do they have salads?”
He pointed to the chalkboard hanging on the far wall. “That’s the menu.”
“Oh.” Thankfully she straightened to study it, giving Sam some room to breathe.
After they placed their orders, the waitress returned with their drinks in record time. Chase and Matt each had a beer, while Rachel opted for iced tea and Savannah settled for a glass of cheap red wine. Sam had requested a cola, and he figured he was going to catch hell for it.
Chase was the first to notice. “Why aren’t you drinking tonight, Mac?”
“Because I had a beer before you showed up and that’s my limit.”
“Since when?” Matt asked.
“Since I had a kid.”
Savannah looked more amazed than anyone. “I’m impressed.”
At least he’d done something to impress her, not that he gave a damn what she thought of him. “People tend to change as they get older and have more responsibility.”
She rimmed her fingertip around the wineglass and looked away. “I suppose they do.”
Matt surveyed the group and shook his head. “Man, does this bring back some good memories, having us all back together again.”
Rachel hid a yawn behind her hand. “I still remember all those weekends we spent at Potter’s Pond.”
Matt chuckled. “I remember when Savannah and Sam got caught parking at the pond by that idiotic deputy. What was his name, Chase?”
Chase scowled. “Gordon. I never understood why my dad hired him. Not only was he a screwup, he had that brownnosing son named Brady.”
Savannah rubbed her forehead as if the recollection had brought about a serious headache. “Ah, yes, Brady. He told everyone at school Sam and I were ‘doing it’ that night when we weren’t doing all that much.”
Sam had been glad they hadn’t been doing much more, otherwise he would’ve been in worse trouble.
“Didn’t the two of you get grounded after your folks got wind of it?” Rachel asked.
“For a week,” Sam admitted before Savannah had the chance.
But the punishment hadn’t stopped him from seeing her. He’d prefer not to remember the details, but he did. Late at night, he’d sneaked out of his back door and right into her bedroom window. The thrill of getting caught had only stoked their ongoing fire. He’d never forgotten those nights, all the more reason to steer clear of her now.
Matt draped his arm around his wife. “We can’t forget the time we sent Rachel into the field house on the guise that the coach needed to see her about the cheerleading squad—”
“Shut up, Matthew,” Rachel snapped. “That wasn’t the least bit funny, walking in on all those half-naked guys in the locker room. I’m still angry.”
“Angry because she didn’t have a camera,” Savannah chimed in, causing a loud outburst of laughter.
The stories kept flowing while Sam stayed stuck on the memories involving his and Savannah’s former time together. He’d never had a relationship that intense before, or since. But when she left, he’d begun to realize that he’d never been more to Savannah than a temporary diversion and a teacher when it came to sex. She’d only intended to hang around town long enough for the ink to dry on her high school diploma. If he’d only been able to see back then what he knew now, he would’ve saved himself a lot of sleepless nights and second-guessing.
When the conversation and laughter quieted, Savannah sighed. “I just wish Jess could’ve been here.”
Rachel folded her hands atop the table. “I tried to convince her to come but she made up some excuse about Danny’s baseball game and that Dalton was too busy to pick him up.”
Chase looked as if he’d eaten something sour. “He’s probably too busy screwing around with some gullible woman.”
Savannah leaned forward. “You mean he’s cheating on her?”
For Jess’s sake, Sam felt the need to set the record straight in spite of his suspicions. “No one’s confirmed anything yet, and I hope like hell Jess’s boy doesn’t get wind of the rumors. He’s got enough troubles having Dalton as his dad.”
Rachel scooted closer to the table. “Speaking of that very thing…” She took Matt’s hand into hers and added, “We have some news.”
Matt looked to Sam as if he might bolt. “Yeah, we do.”
Sam stared down Chase, letting him know he was about to be twenty dollars richer, before he stated, “You’re going to be parents.”
Rachel’s mouth opened for a minute before she snapped it shut and swatted her husband’s arm. “I thought we were going to wait to tell everyone together, Matthew.”
Matt raised his hands above his head, like he was set to surrender. “I swear I didn’t say a thing, Rachel.”
“He didn’t have to,” Sam said. “I went through all the symptoms with Darlene. No drinking, sick in the morning, yawning every five minutes.”
Savannah stood, rounded the table and hugged Rachel. “I’m so thrilled for the two of you.”
In the meantime, Chase pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty to Sam. “You win.”
Matt didn’t look too pleased. “You two were betting on my wife?”
Sam leaned back and grinned. “Yep. Chase didn’t think you had it in you after thirteen years of marriage.”
Chase chuckled. “Hell, I didn’t think anyone had sex after thirteen years of marriage.”
Once again, the group joined together in laughter, including Savannah. Sam had forgotten how much he liked her laugh. He’d always been able to make her laugh, even during some fairly rocky times. He’d also been good at making her cry, like he had that day in the diner. Right or wrong, at the time he’d figured she’d deserved it. He’d wanted her to feel as bad as he had, punish her for leaving him behind. But the past was long since dead and buried and didn’t deserve a resurrection. Once he left this hellhole, and Savannah, he swore not to give it—or her—a second thought.
After the food arrived, Sam tried to focus on the conversation but found himself watching Savannah eat her measly salad. He’d taught her to kiss, and she’d taken to his instructions pretty damn well. She’d been a willing student, even if she had made him work for the ultimate reward for almost two years. And if he didn’t keep his mind on the present and his eyes to himself, he could forget using a poker face to hide his fascination with her mouth, especially if she caught him with his guard down.
But as the talk once more turned to old times, Savannah seemed more relaxed around Sam, so much so she started to lean toward him whenever he tried to speak above the din. And when no one was paying him any mind, he’d inch his chair away from her. If he moved clear across the room, that wouldn’t be far enough away. He’d still know she was there, and he’d still be tempted to return to the past even if he’d sworn not to go there.
During a lull in the conversation, Chase slid out of his seat and stood. “Anyone up for a game of pool?”
Sam pushed away from the table so fast he almost knocked over the stool. “I’m in.”
“Count me in, too,” Matt said. “As long as you concentrate on the game, Reed, and not the kind that involves finding a willing woman while pretending to play pool.”
“Well, now that you mention it.” Chase leaned down and draped his arm over Savannah’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to be willing, would you, sweetheart?”
She removed his arm, much to Sam’s satisfaction, even if he shouldn’t care what the hell she did and who she did it with. “Not on your life, Chase,” she said. “That would be like kissing my brother.”
Chase grinned. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
Matt came to his feet and said, “While we’re gone, you two girls can talk about us all you want.”
Sam had no doubt he’d be the prime topic of discussion, especially if Savannah had a mind to rake him over the coals with Rachel for his less-than-friendly attitude.
Once they reached the tables, Sam grabbed a cue from the wall holder and turned to discover that the couple currently playing pool didn’t appear to be in a hurry to complete their game. When they kept kissing and touching each other, he almost suggested they give up and take it into the parking lot.
Matt came to his side and said, “You and Savannah looked kind of cozy back there at the table.”
He shouldn’t be surprised by the comment. To any casual observer, they might have looked “cozy.”
“Your imagination’s out of control, Boyd.”
Chase joined them to add his two cents. “I don’t know, Mac. Are you sure you’re not hankerin’ to take a little trip back in time with Savannah?”
Sam battled the images the comment created and the urge to curse his friends. “You two don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
Fortunately, the couple had finally cut out, providing a diversion. “Looks like it’s our turn,” he said.
While Matt gathered the pool balls, Chase leaned back against the table and regarded Sam. “Twenty bucks says you and Savannah will end up in bed together before the week’s over.”
Sam didn’t like the bet or the bedroom images running through his mind. “Go to hell, Reed.”
Matt offered his hand to Chase. “I say three days.”
“You’re on,” Chase said as they sealed the wager with a shake.
When they both looked at Sam expectantly, he picked up a cue and took his first shot, missing the pocket by a mile. “No good ever comes from repeating history,” he muttered as he straightened. “You can both make a hundred bets and neither of you are going to win.” If he considered what they were suggesting, he’d also be in line to lose.

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