Chapter Eight
The honey blond hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail, but it was her. He felt, more than visualized her, and his body quickened in response even after all these months.
Then she turned and presented her profile, and he felt every ounce of blood drain from his face.
What the everloving hell?
She was beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful than she was when they were together. Okay, maybe it was because he hadn't seen her for so damn long. But hell, she was stunning.
She looked simple, as she always liked to look, but somehow that simplicity made her stand out always. She was wearing her uniform, a short blue skirt and fitted white shirt, with a white apron tied around her waist.
He had always hated that skirt. Not because she didn't look good in it. It was actually because she looked too good in it, the skirt exposed her smooth, straight, shapely legs and all he could think about that moment was how good it had felt to have those legs wrapped around him when they made love.
Even now, he could see that a number of men were staring, some not even bothering to hide their hungry gazes. He had a sudden urge to take her out of the diner, but he remembered almost immediately that he had no right to do that and that Savannah hated it when he tried to make her quit her job.
His gaze lifted slowly from her body just as she turned fully and their eyes met. Shock widened her blue eyes as she stared across the room at him. Recognition was instant, but then why would she have forgotten him anymore than he couldn't have forgotten her?
Before he could react, stand, say anything, fury turned those blue orbs ice-cold. Her delicate features tightened and he could see her jaw clench from where he sat.
What the hell did she have to be so angry about? He was the one who had been betrayed. He was the one who should be angry.
But there she was. Her fingers curled into tight balls at her sides, almost as if she’d love nothing better than to deck him. Then, without a word, she turned and stalked toward the kitchen, disappearing behind the swinging door.
His eyes narrowed. Okay, that hadn’t gone as he’d imagined. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
A weeping apology? A plea to take her back? He damn sure hadn’t expected to find her this angry.
He took a deep, steadying breath. Anxiety took hold of his throat and squeezed until his nostrils twitched with the effort of drawing air.
He sat there and waited for her to come back.
She didn't.
Savannah Carson burst into the kitchen, struggling to untie her apron. She swore under her breath when she fumbled uselessly at the strings. Her hands shook so bad she couldn’t even manage this simple of a task.
Finally she yanked hard enough that the material ripped. She all but threw it on the hook where the other waitresses hung their aprons.
Why was he here? She hadn’t done a whole lot to cover her tracks. Yes, she’d left the city and at the time she hadn’t known where she’d end up. She hadn’t cared. But neither had she done anything to hide. Okay, maybe she had but it wasn't because she was running away from him, but because she wanted to let go move on.
That meant he could have found her at anytime.
Why now? After a year, what possible reason could he have for looking for her?
She refused to believe in coincidences. According to Vicky, Matt stopped coming to the diner after their break up. He couldn't just happen to be here now that she was back. His presence annoyed her. She wanted to spill something on him.
Wow, Savannah, bitter much?
She shook her head, furious with herself for reacting this strongly to the man’s presence.
“Hey, Savannah, what’s going on?” Vicky asked.
Savannah turned to see the her friend standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her brow creased with concern.
“Close the door,” Savannah hissed as she motioned Victoria inside.
Vicky quickly complied and the door swung shut.
“Is everything all right? You don’t look good, babe. Are you sick?
Savannah didn't know exactly how she felt. She just knew that she had to get out of here.
“No, I’m not well at all,” she said, grasping for an explanation. “Tell Lamar I had to leave.. If he asks. He's not here now so I should be fine. Could you just cover for me?”
Victoria frowned. “He’s not going to like it. You know how he is about us missing work. Unless we’re missing a limb or vomiting blood, he’s not going to be forgiving.” She said.
“Then tell him I quit,” Savannah muttered as she hurried toward the alley exit. She paused at the rickety door and turned anxiously back to Victoria. “Do me a favor, Vicky. This is important, okay? If anyone in the diner asks about me—anyone at all—you don’t know anything.” She said.
Vicky's eyes widened. “Savannah, are in you in some kind of trouble?” she asked.
Savanah shook her head impatiently. “I’m not in trouble. I swear it. It’s…it’s Matt. That bastard. I saw him in the diner a minute ago.”
Victoria's lips tightened and her eyes blazed with indignation. “Really?" she asked." He's here right now? "
Savannah nodded.
"You go on ahead, hon. I’ll take care of things here.” Vicky said.
“Bless you,” Savannah murmured.
She ducked out the back door of the diner and headed down the alley. Her apartment was only two blocks away. She could go there and figure out what the heck to do next.
She almost stopped halfway there. Why was she running? She had nothing to hide. She’d done nothing wrong. What she should have done was march across that diner and bloodied his nose.
Instead she was running.
She took the flimsy stairs to her second-story apartment two at a time. When she was inside, she closed the door and leaned heavily against it.