Whisper's Edge (11 page)

“The artichoke and spinach dip is good,” Ben said, drawing a surprised look from Kate. “What?” he asked her with a grin.

“I had you pegged for a buffalo wings kind of guy,” Kate answered.

“Actually, I am,” Ben admitted. “But I guess there’s more to me than meets the eye.”

“Then we should share an order of both,” Tristan said with a nod to Sunny.

“Coming right up,” Sunny said and hurried off to place the order.

Over appetizers they chatted about the wine-tasting idea. Ben felt himself becoming more relaxed and joined in by suggesting that they add craft-beer tasting to please the men who might not enjoy sampling wine.

“I agree,” Tristan said with a nod. “And we’ll have to do some sampling of our own first.”

“For the sake of the event of course,” Ben said after scooping up some dip with a chunk of pita bread. He tried to convince himself that it was the Manhattan that loosened his tongue but in truth he knew it had a lot to do with the company.

“We’ll do a raffle for charity,” Savannah said. “I’ll hit up Mia Monroe over at the Cougars’ front office. I haven’t begged for baseball tickets in a while.”

“Didn’t her daddy marry Bella’s mama?” Kate asked.

Savannah took a sip of her wine and then nodded. “I heard it was an autumn wedding held right here beneath that gazebo. It must have been gorgeous. Cricket Creek is so pretty in the fall.”

“I have to agree with you,” Kate said with a glance toward the large gazebo at the far end of the patio.

Sunny returned to refill the wineglasses and take the entrée orders. They all opted for the pot roast special except for Savannah, who was determined to have her potpie. After it arrived conversation continued in between bites and moans of appreciation for the food.

“I remember eating a burger and fries here with my mother when I was a kid,” Tristan said, but then shook his head. “But wow, this food is off-the-charts good.”

Savannah nodded. “I think Guy Fieri should pay Wine and Diner a visit.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked.

“Host of
Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives
,” Ben explained and got another raised-eyebrow look from Kate.

“Who knew that you were such a foodie?” Kate asked with a shake of her head.

Ben chuckled. “What can I say? I like to eat.” When he reached for his glass of water his elbow brushed against Kate’s arm. It was just an innocent touch, not even against skin, but the soft material of her sweater sent a shot of male longing straight through him. He sucked in a breath, trying to clear his head but the subtle scent of her perfume befuddled him further. Ben took a quick swallow of the cold water hoping to cool his ardor but when he moved in his seat, damned if his leg didn’t press against hers.

He waited to feel guilty but he didn’t. He felt alive.

If she noticed, Kate didn’t react or at least she did a damned good job of hiding it. Of course, perhaps the attraction was one-sided. The only indication that she felt anything was that while Tristan and Savannah chatted about flying pigs of all things, Kate remained silent and seemed to be concentrating on cutting her pot roast. Throwing caution to the wind, Ben decided to test the water and, this time, with his heart pounding, he subtly allowed his leg to brush up against hers. But as soon as he did it, he felt silly and immediately pulled his leg away from any and all contact.

What in the hell was he doing? He decided to concentrate on his food as well but risked a sideways glance at Kate. How was it that he had never noticed how pretty she was? Sassy, funny…smart but never pretty.

And sexy as hell.

The realization was more intoxicating than the bourbon in his Manhattan.

When the sun sank lower in the sky, shadows danced on the brick wall opposite of where they sat. Suddenly, twinkling lights woven through several trees came on and illuminated the patio with a soft glow. Candles flickered in the evening breeze, which carried a hint of the nearby river and sweet summer blossoms. As Bella promised, a duo set up shop in the far corner.

The tall, gorgeous woman flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Welcome to Wine and Diner!” she announced in a smoky voice that sounded destined for singing. “I’m Rita and this is my husband, Rick. We’re the Watsons but we go by simply Rick and Rita. We take requests and we’d love to see y’all get up and dance.” Rita nodded to Rick on the keyboard and grabbed the microphone. They started out with a medley of Captain and Tennille songs that had many of the patrons tapping their feet and singing along.

“They’re really good,” Ben leaned over and said to Kate.

Their shoulders touched, but just when he was about to pull back, Kate leaned even closer and said in his ear, “I’ve heard them before. Rita has an amazing voice. I’m so glad that we came here tonight.”

“Me too,” he said knowing that he wouldn’t muster up the nerve to ask her to dance but something inside of him shifted, softened. And when Kate briefly touched his hand, Ben closed his eyes and swallowed. Maybe he could finally find the courage to start healing.

N
O MATTER HOW HARD SHE TRIED, WHICH AT FIRST WASN’T
very much at all, Savannah could not stop thinking about Tristan McMillan. After the dinner on Friday, sleep eluded her pretty much the entire night. She’d tossed and turned for hours, getting all twisted up in the bedclothes while thinking about the way he looked, the way he smelled—which was very nice by the way—and the warmth of his smile. Savannah had chuckled in the dark while recalling funny things he’d said after he’d loosened up. She smiled at the memory of the promises he made to help Kate manage Whisper’s Edge.

Tristan had seemed to have a good time with them, laughing easily as the night wore on and even walking her to her door. He’d asked for her phone number, and for one heart-pounding moment Savannah even hoped he might kiss her! Or at the very least ask to do this again sometime. He hadn’t.

Yes, okay technically he was her boss, but Savannah decided to ignore that little detail.

Savannah wondered if thoughts of her were keeping Tristan awake. Would Tristan call or text to let her know?
She thought it would be incredibly sweet to talk softly to each other while lying in bed.

But her phone remained stubbornly silent.

When Savannah didn’t hear from Tristan on Saturday morning she cleaned every inch of her little house in an effort to keep him off her mind, but as she ran the sweeper, polished the furniture and, yes, even washed windows, his face kept sliding into her brain and refused to budge. Oh, and doing the laundry brought back such vivid memories that she finally had to walk away from the washing machine and go outside to cool down.

Now, here it was Sunday afternoon. Savannah had the day off and damned if thoughts of Tristan weren’t keeping her from getting into a perfectly good book that she had been dying to start reading.

“Well, hellfire!” Savannah grumbled, using one of Kate’s expressions. She tossed the book down onto the glossy magazines littering her coffee table, crossed her arms over her chest, tapped her toes that barely reached the floor because her legs were so doggone short, and well…she pouted. At least until she realized that her unconventional childhood meant she had never mastered the fine art of pouting, and after a few moments she felt silly and gave it up.

She glanced down at the coffee table and considered giving the book another try. But the shirtless guy on the cover sort of looked like Tristan and she groaned in pure exasperation. “This is stupid.” She needed to talk to somebody; get her mind someplace else. This was getting…weird.

Knowing all she had to do was walk out the door to find somebody to chat with, Savannah went in search of her tennis shoes. Of course she couldn’t find them and then remembered they had gotten muddy when she pulled weeds yesterday evening. Yes, she had weeded her garden on a perfectly nice
Saturday
evening.

Savannah put her hands on her hips and started to get well and truly grumpy. “I sure could use a glass of that Angel Food Cake wine,” she mumbled beneath her breath and
finally slipped her feet into her flip-flops, even though one was still missing the daisy. Of course, even
that
brought back memories of the day she met Tristan.

Savannah thought about changing from her tattered blue gym shorts and worn white tank top but failed to muster up the energy. Who knew that having an obsession would be so draining? Because Savannah wasn’t a down-in-the-dumps kind of person, this mood felt strange but for the life of her, she just couldn’t shake it.

“What in the world is wrong with me?” After a long-suffering sigh she looked at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. “Mercy.” Swallowing hard, Savannah reached up and touched the messy braid that was supposed to keep her hair tame but was losing the battle with curls that had worked their way loose. Without makeup her freckles stood out like sprinkles of nutmeg on custard, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, courtesy of her sleepless nights. “I am one hot mess.”

Savannah let her gaze slide down her body and then put her hand on her stomach, wishing it were flat as a pancake. After another sigh she turned and checked out her butt. “Not as big as Kim Kardashian but still…” She pivoted and cupped her full breasts but then had to smile ever so slightly at the memory of the crazy boobs-and-booty dance she and Kate did on Friday.

Savannah took a step back and frowned at her reflection. Having always worried about important things like putting a roof over her head and food on the table, she’d never worried much about her appearance.

Until now.

Oh, she’d dated here and there, mostly stemming from a grandson of someone who lived in Whisper’s Edge. Before landing the job she’d struggled to make ends meet, much less date. One dead-end job had led to another, and, thinking she needed another change of scenery, Savannah had packed her one suitcase and hit the road until she ran out of money.

Savannah remembered with a hot flash of shame that Kate had found her sleeping in this very mobile home, but instead of kicking her out or calling the cops, Kate had fed her a huge meal and they’d hit it off as friends right away. And after an acknowledged background check, Kate had offered her the social director’s position, which had morphed into Girl Friday when Kate’s assistant went back to college when the budget got tighter. The money wasn’t great, but having a home of her very own was a dream come true with the added bonus of home-cooked meals from residents who soon adopted her as their own.

Savannah gave her reflection a wobbly smile. Comfort food stuck like glue to her waistline but there wasn’t a night that went by that she didn’t fall to her knees and thank her lucky stars and heaven above that she’d stumbled upon this vacant home while on the never-ending road to nowhere. From that day forward her life had changed for the better. Kate turned out to be a mom and friend rolled into one. Miss Patty doted on her, and there wasn’t a home in the community to which Savannah hadn’t been invited on more than one occasion. And holidays? Savannah grinned. All of the Christmas mornings without presents and birthdays gone unnoticed were trumped by the showering of gifts that she received from the good people of Whisper’s Edge. She glanced at her bulging closet and had to chuckle. There was one entire rack packed with ugly sweaters and she wore each and every one. A gift, no matter how big or how small or unnecessary, Savannah wore it, used it, or consumed it with lavish praise. She never,
ever
regifted.

“Oh boy…” She brushed away a sudden fat tear at the thought and then sniffed hard. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of tears very often, and the recent frequency of her eyes misting over was becoming alarming. Savannah sniffed again and shook her head. She’d spent a lifetime tamping down her emotions and pushing away fear. With a lift of her chin she swallowed the hot moisture gathering in her throat. “Just think happy thoughts,” Savannah said sternly. “Oh,
Tinker Bell, sprinkle me with pixie dust!” What in the world was going on with her restless, blue mood, anyway? She flopped down onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling fan that Ben had kindly installed for her a few weeks ago. She inhaled deeply and tried to think things out.

Was it hormones? The biological-clock-ticking theory that Kate kept spinning didn’t really resonate with Savannah. Having a child of her own wasn’t something Savannah ever daydreamed about. The only babies she had ever been around were other foster care children, so she never felt that tenderness or longing. Rather she mostly felt annoyance at the messes they made. She’d only had one baby doll. It had been tucked into one of those random bags of Christmas gifts received from the kindness of some charity with tags labeled
girl
and
age
. Not quite knowing what to do with the doll, which was supposed to burp and cry, she had traded it for a book. Even as a child, books had been her escape. Her library card was still her passport to worlds of wonder and she gobbled up books and then hurried back for more.

Savannah’s thoughts went back to babies, and she frowned as she stared at the fan. Having only had the basics of food and clothing, Savannah had no childhood memory of being cuddled, rocked, or cared for. And she had learned early on that any show of weakness meant getting picked on, so she learned to stand her ground no matter how hard her knees were knocking. Perhaps it was the feisty redhead in her, but she got pretty adept at staring down bullies despite her small stature. “Sugar, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Kate announced one afternoon when she and Savannah were having a particularly stressful day.

“Well then, I should be able to bench press a boulder.” With a small smile Savannah grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. She darned well knew the reason for her blue mood. Tristan McMillan. She wanted him to notice her as a woman. She wanted him to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Ah, she would thread her fingers
through his hair, which she imagined would feel soft and silky, and then he would carry her off to bed and make wild and passionate love to her! She could have sworn he’d been making eyes at her too at dinner, but of course it could have been the alcohol. “Guess he had his beer goggles on,” Savannah mumbled with a lifeless laugh.