Chapter 1
Twelve-Dollar Bourbon
The first time Savannah Cole kissed Luke Mercer, she stole his car keys.
The second time, he knew exactly what she was doing.
That was the trouble with Luke. He learned fast. And Savannah had always been attracted to men who were trouble.
At thirty-two, she owned a small cocktail bar in Columbus and had perfected three useful skills: remembering faces, spotting lies, and smiling at men she wanted to hit with a bottle.
She was polishing a glass when he walked in that Friday night.
Dark jeans. Muddy boots. White shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The little scar through his eyebrow looked the same, but there were new lines beside his eyes. He paused just inside the door, looking at her as if he had rehearsed this moment and forgotten every word.
Savannah remembered hers.
Don’t let him touch you again.
He sat across from her.
“Bourbon.”
“Plenty of places sell it.”
“I like the service here.”
“You left town four years ago without saying goodbye.”
His smile disappeared.
“Savannah—”
“Your bourbon’s twelve dollars. The explanation costs more.”
She poured it anyway. Her fingers brushed his when he reached for the glass, and the quick warmth of the contact annoyed her more than it should have.
“You still wear the necklace,” he said.
She touched the little silver crescent at her throat. “It goes with my earrings. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He nodded as though he deserved that.
The last customers had gone. Beyond the front windows, a couple walked down the sidewalk beneath a single umbrella. Savannah watched them rather than look at him.
“I came because I needed to tell you something,” Luke said.
“You remember how phones work?”
“Not on a phone.”
She finally met his eyes. Something in his expression made the back of her neck tighten.
Then the rear door banged open.
Her younger brother stumbled inside, one hand pressed beneath his ribs. Dark blood soaked his shirt.
“Sav,” Eli whispered.
The glass fell from her hand.
Luke caught him before he hit the floor and eased him down behind the counter. Savannah was already calling for an ambulance.
“Clean towels,” Luke said.
She grabbed them. He pressed one against Eli’s side while she knelt at her brother’s head.
“Look at me,” she told Eli. “Stay with me.”
Outside, an engine slowed.
Luke glanced toward the windows.
“Lock the door.”
Savannah heard the sharpness in his voice and obeyed.
When she returned, Eli had caught Luke’s wrist.
“I didn’t give them your name,” he said.
For the first time that night, Luke looked afraid.
