Not Over You (Healing Springs, Book 1) Page 2

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without the hope you’re offering.” Rick rubbed his eyes with his dry-skinned knuckles. “Your mother is grateful, too. Don’t let her crankiness fool you.”

  Her mother had nothing to be grateful toward Savannah for. They didn’t even know if Savannah’s bone marrow would be a match. With her luck, her mother would be worse off if she received the transfusion.

  She ducked her head. “Thanks for the keys.”

  “If you need anything, just holler.”

  Heart pounding, Savannah led Rocco to her stepfather’s gray sedan. Rocco happily jumped into the front seat, eager for another driving adventure, while Savannah tossed her bag in the back. So far her precious pup seemed immune to the negativity of the day.

  Not having a clue where she should go or what she should do, she found herself driving aimlessly through town. She fiddled with the radio when she was at a stop sign—she had no interest in the world news channel her stepdad had been listening to. She had enough trouble in her world without absorbing all the global negativity.

  The urge to drive to the highway was strong. Her feet itched for a run. Her mind begged for caffeine.

  “What do you think, my warrior? Are you in the mood for an afternoon snack?” Rocco wagged his tail stump at the promise of food. “A nice walk, a little nutritional boost, and then we’ll find a hotel for the night.”

  Two hours later, Savannah was hit with the painful reality that no hotel in the world (or at least in the greater Healing Springs area) would accept a Rottweiler as a boarder. Not even with the promise of an extra large security deposit. Her savings account didn’t have a very large cushion, anyway.

  She parked the borrowed car in front of the coffee shop and watched the sun set over the building. She pushed her seat back, propped her knees up against the steering wheel, and scratched Rocco’s ear.

  What to do, what to do?

  A vehicle pulled up beside her, and she tried to ignore it. Rocco refused to allow her, though, clambering over her to get to her open window.

  “What are you so interested in out there?”

  She hid her face in Rocco’s fur when she glanced out the window and saw who was walking toward her car.

  “Following me around, I see.” Quentin’s velvet tones washed over her, making her sink further into her seat.

  “I was here first. But yeah, twice in one day. How lucky for me.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “How’d you know it was me?”

  Quentin laughed. “I make it my business to know what all the beautiful women are up to in town.”

  She snorted. “I bet.”

  Quentin reached through the window to give Rocco the scratching he begged for. His clean, woodsy scent—a scent she could never erase from her olfactory memory—filled her with a longing she wanted to deny. Being close to her high school sweetheart, the one love of her life, was dangerous. Especially since he had clearly moved on and made a new world for himself, if the booster seat in the truck was any indication. She highly doubted he was a babysitter.

  “What are you doing out here at dinnertime, anyway? I figured Rick would be spoiling you rotten with his homemade mac and cheese.”

  “That arrangement didn’t work out.” Savannah rolled her eyes at herself. Why was she unloading her private business to him?

  Rocco chose that moment to move to the back seat, his attention drawn to something she couldn’t understand. Savannah was now open and bared to Quentin. No more hiding behind the dog.

  He leaned against the open window, his arms crossed and resting right there. She needed space. She needed oxygen. She needed to get away from his intoxicating presence.

  “You can stay with me.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m sure your wife would love that.”

  “There’s no wife.”

  A bubble of something—excitement? Happiness?—grew inside her gut, completely unbidden.

  “Girlfriend, then.”

  “Nope. Not even that.” He smiled, and gosh darn it, she wanted to jump through the window and claim those lips as hers before someone else could.

  “Well thanks anyway, but Rick gave me the key to the studio.”

  “That old place? It’s practically falling apart. And it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Has the crime rate risen in Healing Springs over the last decade?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned. “From what I remember, the worst thing that ever happened was stolen lawn ornaments from time to time. And those usually showed up on someone else’s lawn as a prank.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There’s always a first time for everything. Never know.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I have my own personal security system, anyway.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt her eyes crinkle in a smile. His unexpected protectiveness was kind of adorable.

  “Well I’m coming with you to check things out. No one has been there since your mom got sick. I’ll make sure no opportunists moved in.”

  “Really?” She sat up and leaned her elbow on the steering wheel. Was he serious?

  “There could be mice.” His arguments were getting weaker, but his expression was getting cuter.

  “I think I can handle it. It takes more than a mouse to scare me off.”

  “Okay, but if you get there and discover that skunks have decided to nest in the couch, feel free to call me.” He reached in to grab her cell from the dashboard. Without asking, he programmed his number in.

  After a quick goodbye, she pulled out of the spot and drove to the outskirts of town to the dirt road that led to the studio.

  She wasn’t a bit surprised to see truck headlights pull into the driveway behind her.

  Chapter Two

  “All is clear,” Quentin shouted from the creaky porch. He had insisted on going in ahead of Savannah, and since Rocco was doing the pee-pee shuffle, she let Quentin show off his manliness while she allowed Rocco to do his thing.

  “Are you sure? Did you check the closets?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you check the shower?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Did you check under the bed?”

  Silence.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Laughing to herself, she entered the studio for the first time. The musty inside was a stark contrast to the woodsy loveliness of outdoors. Mixed in with the thick scent of dust and mildew was the unforgettable smell of her mother’s paint. Quentin had turned on all of the lights in the cabin, illuminating the easels and canvases around the room. Savannah didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see the depths of her mother’s artistic soul, yet she was drawn to a particular canvas near the window.

  Blue paint splattered in the middle looked like what may have been intended to represent a lake. That’s how Savannah interpreted it, anyway. Screaming faces, elongated and translucent, hovered around the blue. Tree branches extended toward the lake, pulling, rescuing, failing.

  “Hey, I found where she keeps the sheets.”

  Quentin’s voice pulled her away from the horrific painting. She couldn’t deny she was grateful for his presence—the perfect distraction.

  “Oh, good. That mattress looks like it’s seen better days.”

  He opened the sheet, parachuting it over the mattress. She grabbed a corner and together they struggled to finagle the musty smelling fabric into place.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay with me?”

  When he looked at her like that, with his brown wavy hair falling over his forehead, she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. In his bed. On his kitchen table. In his truck. However he wanted her.

  But she wasn’t here to drudge up memories.

  “A little perfume and some airing out will do the trick. But thanks.”

  “This bed holds special memories.” His voice was deeper, huskier. Was he flirting with her?

  She didn’t respond. She knew exactly what memo
ries he was speaking of.

  He continued, seemingly oblivious to her silence.

  “If I remember correctly, and I’m positive I do, you gave me the greatest gift here on this bed.”

  “Oh hush, not in front of my dog.” She whipped a blanket at him, which he diverted away from his face.

  “The beautiful gift of your pure flower.”

  “My flower?” Savannah laughed. Was he kidding?

  “You wanted me to talk in code.”

  “I didn’t want you to talk at all.” She hadn’t smiled this much in ages. He had such a strange effect on her.

  “Well, that day was the best. I wasn’t even expecting it.”

  “I could tell…”

  “Hey, you can’t expect to catch a guy off-guard like that and have a miraculous experience.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him and let out a soft giggle.

  “Besides, it was my first time, too.” Defensiveness crept into his tone, but his body huffed up like he was ready to play offense.

  He moved around to her side of the bed, looking like a cat on the prowl. She searched for Rocco, her protector, who at the moment was too busy licking his privates to give a flying fig about her personal safety.

  Quentin was in touching distance. Distraction, distraction. She grabbed a pillow and attempted to shove the pathetic cushion into a threadbare pillowcase. Why won’t it go in?

  His breath warmed her ear as he leaned in, his words a caress. “I do recall you enjoying yourself quite a bit, though. I also remember something about whipped cream.”

  She cleared her throat. She was the one who seduced when she had a need to fill or a memory to drown. She didn’t like the powerlessness she felt at his intensity.

  But try telling that to her body, which was responding like Publisher’s Clearing House was at the door telling her she won the lottery.

  The sexy man lottery.

  The pillow and case slipped from her hand, tumbling to the bed. Her body turned toward him. She was powerless to stop it. Her heart raced, blood rushed south, her cheeks filled with heat. She couldn’t remove her gaze from his lips. His luscious, soul-crushing, heart-blazing, delicious…

  Rocco chose that moment to become the protector she no longer wanted him to be. Finally sensing Savannah’s unease, he leapt to her side, growling a warning to Quentin. At the same time, Quentin’s cell phone vibrated.

  He cleared his throat and licked his lips.

  “Peaches, I’m so sorry. I have to take this. I’m on call.”

  “Yeah, of course.” She shook her head to clear the lust-daze, turning back to the pillow. She’d never get any sleep tonight.

  “I have to run. There’s an emergency.”

  “Go, go.”

  He kissed her on the forehead, pierced her with his longing gaze, scratched Rocco right where he liked to be scratched (making Savannah painfully envious in the process), then left.

  She tossed herself on the bed, covered her face with the pillow, and cursed herself for being a fool.

  ***

  If the sunlight streaming across her face wasn’t bad enough, Rocco’s thick tongue lapping her eyelids made Savannah want to bury her head under the smelly sheets and never rise.

  Why did the bed have to be next to the one window where sunlight could peer through the trees? Savannah vowed to move the rickety bed if she had to spend one more night here.

  Rocco groaned and pawed at her arm. “Okay, okay. I’ll take you out.”

  Her needy pet jumped to the floor and pattered to the door. She stumbled across the way, shoving her feet into her tennis shoes but not bothering to straighten the heel.

  Normally she was up at the crack of dawn, ready to go for an early morning run before the families took over the beach in the ocean town she lived in. But being here with all the memories trying to fight their way into her mind and her heart… she figured sleep was a good way to fight off the emotions.

  “Let’s make this quick.” Rocco ran to the nearest tree. Savannah paced the small porch, noticing the aging and imperfections she had missed last night. The same little two-seater swing hung from the porch ceiling. Pots full of dirt and weeds lined the perimeter—clearly neglected. On the other side of the front door were two stacked plastic tubs. They didn’t fit in with the rest of the cabin… they looked new. Clean. Bright. Everything this cabin was not.

  She moved closer to study the mysterious tubs. No dust, no dirt, just one random pine needle that had probably blown off the rail.

  She opened the tub. She recognized the handwriting on the note before she even lifted it. Ten years later and some things stayed the same.

  “Since you didn’t want to stay with me, I thought you might at least be able to use some fresh linens. But if you change your mind, the offer is always open. Forever, Q.”

  Savannah hugged the note to her chest. Why was he being so nice?

  Rocco came bounding up the stairs, running to her legs, back down the stairs, around the trees, back to her. Over and over. She smiled at his energetic burst.

  “I know. You want your morning run. Let me see what we can muster up for breakfast first.” She had enough of his food in her duffel bag for a couple of days, but she’d need to make more soon. As for her, she might have a granola bar in the bottom of her purse. She had planned to stay with her parents and hadn’t thought far enough ahead last night to realize she should pick up some groceries.

  She dug through the tubs, smiling at Quentin’s generosity and thoughtfulness. He had packed luxurious sheets, pillow cases, two fluffy towels, a stack of washcloths, a coloring book with a baggie of crayons (with a note attached saying, “in case you get bored”), and she thought she’d run to wherever he lived to kiss him when she got to the bottom tub. Her stomach growled when she started digging through the stack of breakfast bars, apples, instant oatmeal, bottles of water.

  On the very bottom was another note, written in red crayon. “I hope these things can sustain you for a little while. If you’d like a home-cooked meal, give me a call.”

  Was he offering to cook for her? The only time she could remember him cooking was one time when he had tried to make her a romantic dinner and he burned the pasta so badly the fire department had responded.

  She grabbed a granola bar and bit into it as she went back inside to change. Rocco came running in beside her, looking at her like she was betraying him for eating without him. She dutifully filled his travel bowl before going about the rest of her morning routine. Fifteen minutes later, they were ready for their exercise.

  At home, she preferred to run on the beach. The ocean waves always soothed her soul and invigorated her. Here, however, the lake held too many memories—toxic, painful memories. Memories of her brother’s death.

  Her feet hit the wooded path in the opposite direction, carrying her away from the pain. Her ear buds blocked out the sound of her own screams from ten years ago. She dodged low-lying branches, leapt over rocks and roots, and did her best to become one with the forest.

  If she had to be back in this town, she might as well make the best of it. She’d run by that old house she had grown up fantasizing about—the giant Victorian with the purple shutters. It was always so out of place on the wooded lot. The yard had been filled with gorgeous gardens, and the lake was only a short walk from the back yard. Back then there had been a private beach area for that house.

  Rocco alerted her that someone was nearby by nudging against her leg and then moving behind her. She slowed her pace, not wanting to knock anyone over by accident. She yanked her buds out of her ears when Rocco went running ahead. She called to him, but he didn’t stop; he refused to listen.

  She ran to catch up, surprised to see Quentin bending down to greet Rocco. That little traitor… he ignored her for him?

  “What are you doing out here?” She panted, bending over with her hands on her knees, desperately trying to ward off a cramp. She forgot to grab water in her haste to get running.

  �
�I was on my way to check on you, actually.” He stood to his full height of six foot two. She straightened, too, brushing the hairs that had escaped her ponytail out of her sweaty face.

  “This is kind of a strange way to get to the studio. Why didn’t you drive over? Or call?”

  “It’s easier to walk—I live right there.” He nodded toward the very house of her dreams.

  “No way. Did they turn it into apartments?”

  “No. I bought it.”

  He bought it? He bought that gorgeous mini-mansion? The one she had cuddled up to him and told him they would live in one day? The one he had promised he’d buy for her?

  A lump clogged her throat. She didn’t quite know how to react. Did he remember those summer nights sneaking onto the private dock? Did he remember how she’d write naughty short stories about the gardens and leave them in his locker?

  Or did he just like the house?

  His intense stare penetrated her all the way to the deep ball of regret and remorse lodged in her gut. Scar tissue had grown over the parts of her heart capable of loving and being loved, but that didn’t stop the erratic organ from pumping more than it should.

  She caught her body leaning forward and quickly corrected her posture.

  Quentin cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Anyway, I wanted to see if you needed anything. Groceries, a place to stay,” he smiled around his words, “a kitchen to use. Does that old microwave even work anymore?”

  “I haven’t tried it yet. Thank you for the special delivery, by the way.”

  Quentin picked up a stick and threw it for Rocco, who caught it then settled down to chew it to bits.

  “He’s not much for fetch, huh?”

  She laughed at the suggestion. “Um, no. Definitely not.” She watched Rocco chomp and chew for a few moments, not sure what to say. “No work today?” Lame, but what do you say to the man who commanded such mixed emotions and past regrets?

  “I’m pretty much always on call since I’m the only paramedic. We don’t have much go on around here most days, but I do respond to other towns when there’s a big trauma.”