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Thank me later.
Carter.
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I look up at him. He gives me one last smile before turning and walking off toward the exit, and my, those jeans he’s in are snug.
“Don’t stare, Hannah,” Irma says. “It’s not becoming of a lady.”
“Bless your heart, Irma,” I reply.
Her head snaps up.
“When did I ever say I was a lady?” And then I stare back down at the note. Is he serious? All the books? We talked about the initiative once when I was out on the ranch, but it didn’t come up after that. And his wife was a children’s book author, wasn’t she?
My insides twist with grief for him. How can he do this? Is he serious?
“Excuse me.” I get up and take the note with me to the bathroom. I slip my phone out of my pocket and shoot him a text.
Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take those books from you if you don’t truly want to donate them, because it’s a big deal, Carter.
SAVAGE
I want you to have them.
I don’t know what to say. Thank you, but I’m not sure I can accept. They have so much sentimental value.
It’s a good step for me to take. My therapist thinks so too. I want to respect Charlotte’s memory, but I also have to find a way to move on from the grief. She would have wanted me to donate these books. Her whole life was about giving to others and to kids in particular.
Wow. I’m so happy for you, that you feel like you can take this step.
You’re the reason, Princess. You are the reason I’m ready.
Tears well up in my eyes and my throat closes. He’s been through so much, and I can’t ever replace what he has lost, even if he wanted me to, but what he’s saying is just…
I don’t have the words.
Then I’ll have them for you. You are a life-changing, giving, amazing person, Hannah Taylor. You are the most special woman I have ever met.
I stare at the screen, shaking from head-to-toe, because he feels that way about me.
Get it together!
But I’m fast running out of reasons not to fall for him.
You can’t stay here. You won’t stay here.
It doesn’t matter that Franklin doesn’t text me anymore or send me flowers, or even that Cash has given me space. I wanted to leave Heatstroke for a reason—to experience life. To find myself and my independence.
I can’t do that here. Can I?
Thirty-Four
SAVAGE
I’ve been thinking about her all fucking day.
I park my SUV in a spot outside Bagel’s Bakery, enter it, and stand in line, my arms crossed over my chest. Nobody talks to me—people have learned to avoid conversation with the angry guy who lives out on his ranch—and I don’t mind it. The only person I want to talk to today is Hannah.
The inside of the bakery is cute. The type of place Hannah would enjoy spending time in, with squeaky polished wooden floors, and dark wood tables, wrought iron chairs, and a special board done in chalk with a crude drawing of a cupcake. The servers wear black aprons, the pockets on the front bearing slogans like “Bagel Today, Bagel Tomorrow” or “This is Knot Your Average Bagel!”
