Footsteps on the stairs make all three of us look toward the hallway, and then Savannah appears in the kitchen doorway like she's walking into my personal fantasies without permission.
She's wearing dark jeans that hug her curves in ways that should be illegal, the denim fitting her legs and ass like it was custom-made for her body. Her cream-colored sweater is soft-looking, the kind of fabric that begs to be touched, and it brings out the warm gold undertones in her brown eyes. Her auburn hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, catching the morning light streaming through the kitchen window.
Her vanilla bourbon scent hits me like a physical blow, warm and sweet and complex, carrying traces of the floral shampoo she uses and something that's purely her. My alpha instincts sit up and take notice, every nerve ending suddenly hyperaware of her presence.
"Morning," she says, her voice still slightly rough with sleep, and the sound does things to my chest that I'm not prepared for.
She heads straight for the coffee pot like a woman with priorities, moving with the kind of unconscious grace that makes me want to watch her do ordinary things for the rest of my life. The sweater shifts as she reaches for a mug, revealing a strip of pale skin at her lower back that makes my mouth go dry.
"Anyone know if there's a decent office supply store in town?" she asks, pouring coffee with the kind of careful attention that suggests she's as aware of our audience as I am. "I need poster board and markers for timeline planning."
"Bennett's Hardware closed," Griff tells her, and I catch the way his eyes track her movements. "It's a coffee shop now."
"Of course it is." She takes a sip of coffee and makes a face that's equal parts adorable and insulting. "What about office supplies?"
"You'd have to drive to Denver or order online," Xavier says, adjusting his glasses with that precise movement that means he's cataloging information. "Small-town living doesn't include same-day access to professional supplies."
"Fantastic." She takes another sip and winces again. "This coffee is terrible. Who made it?"
“Logan,” Griff growls.
“Explains a lot,” Savannah replies.
“Hey, my coffee’s not that bad,” I protest.
She tilts her head, studying me like I’ve lost it. “Tastes like someone filtered it through gym socks.”
“Clean gym socks,” I snap back.
“That’s not the improvement you think it is,” she counters, raising an eyebrow.
“I was thinking,” I begin before I lose my nerve, “maybe you’d like a tour of the town. See what’s changed since you left. I’ve got the day off, and you look like you could use a break from wedding planning.”
She pauses, mug halfway to her lips, giving me a suspicious look.
"We did that the first day, you moved to the house," Xavier says. Trying to obviously fuck up my plans.
"Well, I was thinking maybe I can show you the new places, grab lunch somewhere," I continue.
"Are you asking me on a date, Logan Pierce?" Savannah asks.
Yeah. I mean we need to talk. Just Savannah and I. We're acting like the past didn't happen, and I wasn't that jerk that broke her heart.
"Call it whatever you want," I reply.
"Sounds nice," she says after a moment, and I catch the way her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip. "But I'm buying lunch."
"Like hell you are!" I say. She hasn't changed. She knows that by me paying it is a date. She's still trying to keep her distance.
"I can afford to buy my own lunch," Savannah insists.
"I'm sure you can. Doesn't mean you're going to," I counter.
Her vanilla bourbon scent shifts again, carrying something that might be amusement or might be arousal. The combination makes my alpha instincts purr with satisfaction.
"Still the same stubborn alpha, I see," she quizzes whilst lifting an eyebrow.
"Some things don't change," I confirm.
