She let out a breathy laugh. “I am.”
That was all he needed.
Because in the next second, Chase pulled her against him, crashing his lips to hers in a way that told her—no more running, no more regrets, no more what-ifs.
This time, she was his.
And this time, she wasn’t letting go.
15
Mallory Knows Best
Laterthatnight,duringthe drive back into town, Chase was dropping Savannah off. She couldn’t help but steal glances at him from time to time. The way the dash lights illuminated his stormy, gravel-colored eyes. The way the passing streetlights traced over his tattoos like whispered secrets against his skin. She was coming undone, entangled in Chase Montgomery in a way she hadn’t expected.
Every shift of his hands on the wheel sent a slow curl of heat through her. He drove with the same quiet confidence he had always carried, the same ease that made her stomach flutter. The space between them felt small, electric. Her skin tingled, overly aware of the way the air crackled with something unspoken, something charged. Every second in the truck felt like the build-up before a storm.
As his truck rolled to a stop in front of the Monroe house, he turned to her, his expression unreadable yet intent. The air in the cab felt heavier, warmer, wrapping around them like a cocoon. His voice was low, rough, and sent shivers down her spine. “Savannah, I don’t know how long you’re in town for, but I want to take advantage of this. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. All the things we should have experienced first, together—I want to do them with you.”
Savannah’s heart slammed against her ribs, her lips curling into a slow, teasing smile. “I’m in town for two weeks,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “And, Chase—I’d like that too. Can I call you tomorrow?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she leaned across the console, her fingers sliding up the back of his neck as she pulled him in. His lips met hers instantly, the kiss slow but deep, consuming her in a way that sent a pulse of heat down her spine. He tasted like whiskey and something inherently him—wild and steady all at once. His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, like he wanted to pull her closer but was holding himself back. The restraint in it, the promise, made her ache in ways she hadn’t expected.
When she finally stepped out of the truck, she turned to watch him drive away, her pulse still hammering in her throat. The warmth of his lips still lingered, tingling against her own like a ghost of something unfinished.
When she walked into the house, Mallory was waiting in the living room, arms crossed, an empty wine glass in her lap.
“Since when does car-shares drive diesels?” Mallory asked, her brows raised.
Savannah frowned, kicking off her shoes. “What?”
“I heard a vehicle in the driveway and looked out the window. I expected to see a small car or an SUV. Instead, I saw a gorgeous, lifted 2500 that did not have a glowing sign in the windshield.”
Savannah narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you know trucks?”
Mallory scoffed. “Honey, we live in Asheville. Remember?” She grinned, "You can't go anywhere without smelling that burnt diesel."
Savannah sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Okay, fine. I went on a date with Chase.”
Mallory’s mouth dropped open. “You did what!?” she screeched, nearly knocking over her wine glass.
Savannah barely had a second to brace herself before Mallory’s face transformed, equal parts shock and excitement. “Bitch, what the fuck?! Where did he take you?”
Savannah hesitated, then sat down beside her, tucking her legs under herself. “His house.”
Mallory’s brows shot up. “His house?”
Savannah nodded. “Yeah. It’s on the sound. The most beautiful house I’ve ever seen—midnight blue, honey-oak shutters, a wraparound porch. It was like something out of a dream.”
Mallory stared at her, stunned. “Oh, he’s serious about you.”
Savannah swallowed, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “You think?”
Mallory rolled her eyes. “Savy, men like him, don’t just take women to theirhomes like that—especially not a home like his. He’s showing you his world.”
Savannah chewed on her lip. “We had dinner on the dock. He cooked. And not just any meal—he put effort into it. Seared salmon, risotto so creamy it melted in your mouth, roasted vegetables with just the right amount of crisp. There were lanterns, a firepit—the whole thing felt like something out of a movie.”
Mallory let out a low whistle. “Jesus. That man is trying to ruin you for anyone else.”
