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“Oh, good! You’ll love Tupelo Grove. It’s the perfect place for your clinic.”
He cleared his throat. “I, uh, won’t be starting the clinic, though I might take on a pro bono case or two. I’m going to take a one-semester teaching contract at the university and see if I can still do some remote part-time work for Jimmy.”
Her lips flattened. “Oh.”
“I’ll be here for you until this is over, Savannah. Don’t worry about that. But I just . . . well, making long-term plans didn’t seem like a good idea in light of how things are between us.”
She smiled, but it seemed forced. “You’re right. It’s for the best this way.”
Chapter 8
Savannah’s living room was entirely too small to hold the animosity radiating between Hez and Beckett sitting at opposite ends.
“Here you go.” She handed mugs of strong coffee to both men, but even the happy sunflower design on the cups wouldn’t quell the tension.
Beckett wore a gray suit while Hez had opted for khaki slacks and a polo shirt. Had he deliberately chosen to dress down to show he didn’t need a suit to appear competent and in charge? Because in spite of the more casual attire, he was the one who drew her gaze.
She studied him for a quick moment. Was he feeling the weight of the impending anniversary of Ella’s death too? Every morning she awakened to a sense of dread that only grew as each day passed. Their baby girl had been everything to her. To Hez too. September first would be the third anniversary of that terrible day, and every year she’d thought it wouldn’t hurt so much when the calendar flipped to that date. Judging by the heaviness in her spirit, it wouldn’t be that way this year either.
Hez’s blue eyes looked shadowed, and she suspected he wasn’t sleeping any better than she was. In the old days she would have caught his hand and dragged him off for a nap that turned into much more. Her cheeks flared with heat.
He caught her gaze and sipped his coffee. “Good stuff.” He glanced around the room. “Cute place you have here too. It feels like you. Comfortable furniture, and you’ve painted it your favorite green-gray.”
“I was lucky to get it.”
At least he hadn’t been able to read her mind. When her dog stared at Hez’s pooch, Cody, with a challenge in his dark eyes, she moved her stockinged feet to Marley’s back and gave him a foot massage, which usually calmed him.
Cody yipped and showed his snaggle tooth before he lunged at her moving feet. “Hez, your dog is a maniac.” She snatched her feet back toward the sofa. “Where did you get him? He’s, uh—interesting.”
“He’s great, isn’t he? You never know what you’re going to get with a rescue. They’re like a box of chocolates—except chocolates usually don’t freak out if you walk past a statue or eat your five-hundred-dollar arguing-in-the-Supreme-Court shoes.”
“So you’re telling me to keep my new Jimmy Choo pumps in the closet?”
“And your jogging shoes and your sandals. I appreciate you keeping him until I find a place. The hotel manager hates dogs.”
Savannah eyed Cody again. “Maybe it’s just your dog.”
He grinned at her comment. “Hey, I’ve got a lead on a rental. It’s a condo in downtown Pelican Harbor. Jane Dixon owns it.”
“I know Jane,” Savannah said. “I could talk to her, put in a good word for you.”
“I’m meeting her at the condo at three on Saturday. You could meet us there.”
Beckett frowned and shifted in his chair. “You’re moving here?”
“I need to be near enough to help find who’s behind this.”
“I’m perfectly capable of helping.”
Hez didn’t speak, but his slightly contemptuous gaze flicked over Beckett. He focused his attention back on Savannah. “And get this, babe—the police chief owns it. I thought I might cozy into her good graces and find out who her detective actually suspects in Abernathy’s murder.”
That “babe” was entirely for Beckett’s benefit, so Savannah pressed her lips together and decided to ignore how the endearment caused butterflies to take up residence in her tummy. “You think I’m in the clear?”
“I wish I could say that, but no. I’m sure you’re their top suspect. It’s my job to point their attention in a different direction.”
She sipped her coffee and hoped it would help the headache that had been her constant companion since she’d awakened yesterday. “So where do we go next? I hope it’s somewhere without the crowbar someone used on my head.”
Beckett straightened in the brown armchair. “The guy hit you with a crowbar?”
