The dining room was elegant yet inviting—rich wood, low-hanging pendant lights, and a table large enough to fit eight comfortably.
“Imagine Sunday dinners here,” Mallory muttered. “I’d move in.”
Savannah laughed as they continued upstairs, moving from one beautifully designed space to another until they reached a closed door at the end of the hall.
Mallory shot her a look. “Is this his room?”
Savannah shrugged. “How would I know? First time in the house,remember?”
Mallory rolled her eyes before Savannah reached for the rustic doorknob, twisting it open.
Mallory gasped, grabbing Savannah’s arm in dramatic horror.
The bedroom was nothing short of breathtaking.
Deep navy walls. Dark gray bedding. Floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the water like a living painting. The bed was massive—king-sized, with a rough-hewn wooden headboard that looked like something handcrafted. It was the kind of space that felt private—untouchable.
Mallory smirked, tilting her head. “Soooo… this is where the magic almost happened, huh?”
Savannah’s cheeks burned. “Shut up.”
Mallory ignored her, stepping inside and spinning slowly in place. “Oh, I hate him. This is too good. I wonder how many women have been in this bed?” She flopped onto it, bouncing once.
Savannah wrinkled her nose, not particularly wanting to dwell on that thought. Instead, she pointed toward the massive walk-in shower. Dark tile. A rainfall showerhead. And—of course—candles lined up neatly on the built-in shelf.
Mallory groaned so loudly it was almost comical. “Oh my God. He has candles in the bathroom.”
Savannah slapped a hand over her face.
Mallory turned, hands on her hips, deadly serious. “Savy, if you don’t sleep with this man, I will.”
Savannah burst out laughing, shaking her head as Chase’s voice rang from the kitchen.
“You two done snooping?”
Mallory grinned. “We’re coming!” She smirked at Savannah, wiggling her brows. “You lucky bitch.”
Savannah just smiled, warmth curling in her chest. "Yeah."
She knew.
They returned to the kitchen, where Nate—who was tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably good-looking—was leaning against the counter, swirling a glass of bourbon.
When he saw Mallory, he grinned. “Well, damn. Chase didn’t tell me you were gorgeous.”
Mallory tilted her head, smirking. “And you must be Nate.”
“Guilty.” He extended his glass. “Want a drink?”
She took it without hesitation, taking a slow sip. “Depends. What are we drinking to?”
Nate’s smirk widened. “To distractions worth wanting?”
Mallory’s gaze flickered to Savannah briefly before she looked back at Nate, her lips curving in amusement. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chase leaned down, his breath hot against Savannah’s ear. “Should we be worried about them?”
Savannah tilted her head, pretending to think. “Eh. Let them have their fun.”
