Chapter Thirteen

Savannah smothered a yawn, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. She didn't know why she bothered—nobody was paying attention to her. In fact, nobody was paying attention to anything. How could they, when it took all of their focus on simply breathing through the thick tension that permeated the SUV?

She glanced out the window, barely seeing the trees rush past as they raced down 295 toward Washington. Not for the first time, she wondered what she was doing here, why she had agreed to come along.

Especially since the tension had been brewing from the second she walked into Aaron's house to join them for breakfast. Brooke had taken one look at her, shot an accusing scowl at Aaron, then loudly proclaimed that she wasn't going if she was. Savannah had stopped where she was, in the process of closing the sliding glass door, and almost turned around to leave right then and there. What had she ever done to the teenager to make her talk to her that way?

Nothing that she could think of. She barely even spoke to Brooke, knowing her attempts would have been thrown back in her face with every ounce of attitude the girl could muster. She didn't need to subject herself to that, not today, not when she'd only had two hours' worth of sleep—

Because her mind had been going over and over every word Aaron had said. Dissecting. Analyzing. And it didn't matter how many times she studied them, she came to the same conclusion. Yes, his daughters came first, as they should. She didn't fault him for that, not in the least. But it was the underlying message that had been loud and clear: they were a package deal, and there wasn't room for anyone else.

At least, she thought that's what he was telling her. She wasn't sure. How could she be? Especially when, in the next breath, he was insisting she join them on this outing today.

Had she given him some sign, some unintentional indication that she was interested in something more permanent? No, not that she knew of. Because she wasn't interested in anything more permanent. Wasn't interested in settling down with a family.

So why did his words, spoken and unspoken, bother her so much? Why did simply thinking about them leave a small ache in the hollow of her chest?

Because she needed sleep, that was why. If she had been smart, she would have made an excuse and turned around to leave. But Aaron's mother must have sensed what she was ready to do because she came over and grabbed Savannah's arm and guided her to the table with a bright smile. Then she sat across from her, her ringed hands curled around a steaming mug of coffee, and started talking.

About everything.

Before Savannah knew it, she'd finished three slices of French toast, two cups of coffee, and was being herded out to Aaron's SUV with everyone else. The woman was sneaky, definitely sneaky.

Savannah loved her already. Too bad she wasn't joining them on this outing. There was no doubt in Savannah's mind that Carol Malone would have banished the suffocating tension with one simple command.

"I still don't understand why I have to go. This is stupid."

Savannah sighed and glanced at her watch. Five minutes had passed since the last time Brooke had said those same exact words—almost a record.

"We've been over this before, Brooke."

"You could have left me home."

"Not by yourself."

"I'm old enough."

"Not when you keep acting the way you are."

"It's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. Get over it."

Savannah glanced toward the front seat, saw Aaron's hand clench the steering wheel. Sympathy welled inside her, along with an odd burst of humor. Not at the situation, but at his comeback. It struck her as such a parent thing to say.

Maybe because she'd heard her own parents tell her the same thing when she was growing up.

Life's not fair. Get over it.

Couldn't get much simpler than that. Maybe that's what she needed to do: get over it. She liked Aaron, had been fantasizing about him for a year. They were neighbors. Casual friends, maybe even more than that—but still only friends. And they were having sex.

Steamy, hot, intense sex. The man had stamina—a lot of stamina. And he knew exactly what he was doing, even if he had been almost shy at first. No, not shy. Reserved, maybe. Or maybe even a little old-fashioned, like when he had stammered and blushed during their condom conversation last night, when she told him she was on birth control and was clean and asked him the same.

A small smile curled her lips at the memory, at the way he'd blurted out his admission. Definitely a little old-fashioned when it came to discussing those kinds of details.

But not with anything else. Even now, she could feel the tenderness in her muscles, a gentle ache between her legs that reminded her of the night before.

Her face heated and she turned back to the window, hoping nobody noticed her blush or the way she shifted in the leather seat.

Ninety minutes later, after driving around looking for a parking garage and walking an untold number of blocks, they finally reached the National Mall—at the wrong end. Brooke grumbled and muttered when Isabelle insisted on having their picture taken in front of the Washington Monument, then complained when Aaron told her they had to walk to the other end to reach the Air and Space Museum. For once, Savannah found herself agreeing with the girl.

At least it was a nice day out, the sky a bright blue, the air warm for early October but without the humidity. Isabelle and Brooke ran ahead, weaving around the joggers on the path before doubling back and telling them to hurry then running ahead again. Savannah shrugged out of her windbreaker and tied it around her waist, trying to match her shorter stride to Aaron's longer one.

He paused, turning to wait for her, his hand pressed against his side. She frowned and he immediately dropped his hand then resumed walking, slower this time.

"Does it hurt?"

"What?"

"Nice try. I might be tired but I'm not blind. Does your side hurt?"

"Not much. Just a twinge here and there."

"Liar."

A smile curved his lips. "I may have overexerted myself last night."

Heat filled her face at the memory and she forced herself to keep her gaze focused forward. "Is that a complaint?"

"Hell no. Not even close."

There was something in his voice, something low and needy, that made her stop and turn toward him. Her pulse soared, heat unfurling low in her belly as need coursed through her. How? How could he do that to her with just a look? And God, she wanted to lean up on her toes and kiss him, to thread her fingers through his and walk along the mall, hand-in-hand, like the dozens of other couples strolling past them enjoying the beautiful day.

Dangerous. So dangerous. She couldn't do that, shouldn't want it. They weren't a couple, not in that sense. Not in any sense.

Were they?

No, they weren't. They couldn't be. Aaron had given her that message in the dark hours of the morning. And that wasn't what she wanted, anyway.

Was it?

"Daddy! Miss Savannah! Come on, hurry up."

Isabelle's clear voice called out, shattering whatever spell had been weaving around them. Aaron jerked away from her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started walking again.

Savannah took a deep breath and followed behind, her steps a little slower now as she tried to calm the thoughts racing through her mind. She wasn't paying attention and lost track of time, but only minutes. It was enough. She looked up, only to see that Aaron and Isabelle were further ahead, the younger girl tugging on her father's hand, pulling him along.

But Brooke was right in front of her, walking backward, her blue-green eyes focused on Savannah.

"He doesn't love you, you know."

Savannah paused, trying to hide the shock she felt at the words. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. He doesn't love you."

"Brooke, really, this isn't a conversation I'm having with you."

"I know he was at your house last night. I know you were having sex."

Savannah couldn't stop the heat filling her face, any more than she could stop her mouth from dropping open in surprise. Did Brooke know, or was she just guessing? And how in the hell was she even supposed to comment on that?

Simple: by not commenting at all.

"We need to catch up to your father." Savannah lengthened her stride, hoping the girl would turn around and leave, run ahead of her and leave her in peace to sort out her shock over the unexpected words. But she simply matched Savannah's pace, still walking backward.

"Why don't you like me?"

Savannah stumbled, almost stopped. Changed her mind and kept walking. "What makes you think I don't like you?"

"Because you don't talk to me like you talk to Isabelle. You don't talk to me at all."

Savannah heard the confusion in the teenager's voice, the pain hidden behind the tough words. Her heart squeezed, sympathy welling inside her. Brooke was right: she didn't talk to her the way she talked to Isabelle. She stopped, her gaze softening as she looked at Brooke.

"You're right, I don't. I'm sorry. But sometimes you don't make it very easy to talk to, not when you're always running away."

"I don't run away."

"Sometimes you do."

Brooke's gaze darted away, but not before she saw the doubt flash in the girl's blue-green eyes. Savannah reached out to put a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Maybe we can change that. Maybe we can become friends."

Brooke jerked back, her jaw clenching in anger as she shook her head. "I don't want to talk to you. And we'll never be friends. That's stupid. And my father will never love you so you might as well just stay away."

The girl turned and hurried away, racing to catch up to Aaron and Isabelle. Savannah slowed her pace, finally stopped, needing to put more distance between them for a few minutes.

Needing those few minutes to sort through the sharp pain slicing through her as she tried to decide which of Brooke's hateful words hurt the most.