“He probably feels like he shouldn’t want you,” she says. “Clay told me he felt that way after we first met because of the age gap.”
“But Clay didn’t ignore your existence for a whole month.”
“No…” Savannah concedes reluctantly. “But he was super grumpy when we first met. I had no idea he was into me.” She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Trust me. I bet Brewer has been losing his mind ever since he set eyes on you.”
I want to believe her. There’s a flicker of hope in my chest, and I don’t want to extinguish it just yet. But it’s hard to reconcile what Savannah is saying with Brewer’s behavior. He’sbeen allergic to me ever since he started coming to the diner. Today was the exception—not the rule. He defended me because he’s a good guy and it was the right thing to do. It doesn’t mean he feels anything for me.
“I wish I had your faith,” I say, picking glumly at a string of cheese, “but I don’t think I’m his type.”
“Are you nuts?” Savannah frowns at me. “You’re gorgeous! Any man with eyes?—”
“Sav.”
“I mean it, Josie.”
I smile, feeling a swell of affection for her as I say, “I know you mean it. That’s what best friends are for. But not everybody sees me the way you do.”
Savannah opens her mouth, then closes it again. She looks at me for a long moment, brow creased like she’s thinking hard.
“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” she asks. “Take your mind off Brewer.”
It’s not what I expected her to say, and I try to hide my reluctance. I love spending time with Savannah, but I’m not sure that third-wheeling with her and Clay all evening will stop me thinking about Brewer. If anything, it will just remind me of everything I’m missing out on. But I guess it’s better than moping around my apartment all by myself.
“That would be nice,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Sav.”
“Perfect.” She smiles back at me, her eyes twinkling with something I can’t decipher. “I think it’s going to be a great night.”
The restof my shift passes uneventfully, aside from a few more whispered conversations with Willa about the sketchy-sounding auction. She shoots off to her next job the second we close, while I head for the bakery. It’s a Cherry Hollow tradition: when someone invites you to dinner, you bring a cherry pie for dessert.
It’s snowing by the time I head out of town, the still-warm pie on the passenger seat as I begin the drive up Cherry Mountain. The dark road snakes through the trees, winding upward, and I follow it cautiously, my windscreen wipers fighting a losing battle against the fat flakes tumbling from the sky.
By the time I reach Clay and Savannah’s, I’m seriously regretting my decision to come. I’m really not in the mood to socialize, and I’m dreading the drive back down the mountain in this weather. But it’s too late to back out now, so I park beside Clay’s ludicrously large truck and grab the cherry pie from the passenger seat. Then I get out of the car, wincing against the biting wind as I hurry toward the cabin and knock.
“Hey!” Savannah says as she opens the door with a grin. “Come on in.”
She gives me a hug as I enter the warm cabin, immediately feeling the cold in my bones start to thaw. Clay is standing by the kitchen door, and he grunts out a greeting, nodding at me. I’ve only met him twice; he tries his best to be friendly, but he’s usually too busy looking at Savannah to pay attention to anything else. I’d love to ask him more about his brother, but Clay isn’t much of a talker, and I don’t know how to steer the conversation without sounding obvious.
“Make yourself at home,” Savannah says warmly, thanking me as she takes the cherry pie. “Clay’s making lasagna.”
“Sounds great.”
“You want something to drink?” she asks. “Hot chocolate?”
“That would be perfect.”
There’s something off about Savannah that I can’t put my finger on. She’s buzzing with nervous energy, her eyes a littlewild, like she just drank ten cups of coffee all at once. Before I can question it, she shoots a glance at the front door, then disappears into the kitchen with Clay.
Once I’m alone, I sink onto the couch by the fire, melting against the cushions. The warmth of the flames washes over me like a hot bath, and my eyelids flutter closed for a moment.
Knock, knock.
The loud rap on the door jerks me back to life.
“Uh…Savannah,” I call, “there’s someone at the door.”
Her voice drifts toward me from the kitchen, sounding higher-pitched than usual. “Oh, that will be the other guest! Can you answer it for me, please?”
I frown as I push myself off the couch. Savannah didn’t mention that anyone else would be coming, and I reach for the door handle a little uncertainly. As I pull it open, a blast of icy air hits me like a slap in the face.
