Birmingham, Alabama
“You’re getting my display window dirty with that big hand of yours. Also, Ella’s bound to leave soon, and she’ll catch you spying.” Savanna tsked and set her palms on the Brazilian cherry countertop inside her café.
Jesse quickly removed his hand from the glass and pivoted around to face her, an adorable hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar look on his handsome face. Which was fitting, not merely because he was obviously spying on her friend, but also because he was clutching one of the cookies she’d baked this morning and arranged in the front window, all frosted in orange, black, or Casper-white in honor of Halloween next week.
She not only sold her signature baked goods created from recipes passed down by her grandmother, but mouthwatering artisan coffee drinks brewed with the best imported espresso beans she could afford.
“I am not spying. I was just doing a perimeter sweep. Making sure no one tries to rob you as you close up shop.” He bit off the black hat of the witch cookie. “The butcher had a break-in last week. Didn’t you hear?”
“The butcher, the baker . . . any news on the candlestick maker?” She shot him a cheeky smirk.
Cheeky? Oh. Right. I just read a book by a British author. Hell, she’d even begun thinking with the accent the other day too. British accents were hot—who could blame her?
“Hilarious,” he grunted, polishing off the cookie and wiping the remnants of the finger-licking-good frosting onto the sides of his jeans.
Savanna winked and snatched one of her pink-and-white hand towels, which matched the striped sign hanging outside the brick storefront. She’d chosen her own name for the café. Her parents had wed in Savannah, Georgia, and it was her mother’s favorite Southern city. But her mom had dropped the H from her name on the birth certificate. And owning a place like this had always been her mother and grandmother’s dream, so she’d recently decided to take the plunge in their honor.
The café had been a bakery before she’d purchased the building, so it already had the bones for what she needed. And it was conveniently located near Rhodes Park, which happened to be within walking distance of her townhouse. She could barely afford her rent after sinking every last dime and nickel she had into the café, though.
She was already a month past due paying her landlord. And she didn’t want to borrow money from the business to pay her bills, but she was running out of options.
Well, there was a last resort option, but it was strictly a last resort. She couldn’t touch that money . . . could she?
Was the café doing well? Yes. Well enough to survive? Barely. But that was the nature of it, wasn’t it? She didn’t know anyone who’d gotten into this sort of business expecting to be rolling in dough. No pun intended.
Annnnd focus. What were we discussing? Not my bills.
“So, what happens next? Does Ella call or text you to let you know if she’s met Mister Right?” Jesse unhooked the Ray-Bans that clung to the front of his gray V-neck shirt, fiddled with them, then latched them back in place.
Well, hell. The man was a nervous wreck.
Savanna lifted her chin, her attention lingering on the wall of espresso beans off to her left—Central American beans with caramel undertones were her favorite—before looking out the window to view the restaurant on the other side of Highland Avenue.
The building opposite hers remained frozen in time. The large white mansion harkened back to the days of Gone With The Wind, its Greek pillars gracefully guarding the wide porch and the quintessential Southern rocking chairs on which to sit and enjoy a cocktail or two before or after dinner.
“Ella always picks the Italian place across the street to meet her online dates since she knows I’m here. If it goes well, she texts me. If it doesn’t, she’ll fake an emergency and jet over here.”
Jesse’s light blue eyes studied Savanna as he tapped a fist against his lips for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor. He was wearing black boots, which were a change from the brown beat-up cowboy ones he normally donned. The boots also matched the leather jacket he wore, giving him a hot “bad boy” look. Not that he probably gave a damn about fashion, which was the opposite of Ella, who designed clothes and shoes as a hobby. “And how often does Ella text?” he muttered, his brows coming together in a frown.
“So far? No texts. All extraction plans via fake calls.”
He looked up at Savanna, the faint creases at the corners of his expressive eyes crinkling deeper as he smiled with obvious satisfaction. Typical Jesse. Brooding one minute, smirking the next.
“So, why are you spying on her tonight? Why not the other nights when she’s had dates?” Why am I poking a bear? Mentioning the other dates?
He cursed under his breath, then ruffled up his already-tousled semi-short blond strands. “I was in town. I’m checking on you. Saying hi. Not spying on my . . .”
Savanna arched a dark brow, which no longer matched her hair since she’d gone mostly caramel blonde last week at the salon. She’d needed a change. “Not spying on your what?”
According to Ella last night, she was Done, done, done with Jesse. She’d texted Savanna some TikTok video lamenting that all men with J names were heartbreakers and then followed it up with her “done, done, done” text. No more waiting on that man. I’ll date every man from Birmingham to Boston before I think about Jesse again, she’d added a split second later.
“Let’s talk about Shep instead and how you slept with him the night of—” Jesse’s deep voice jolted Savanna back to the present.
“The night of what was supposed to be Ella’s wedding to Brian,” Savanna finished for him. “The wedding that didn’t happen because you told her not to marry him at the dress rehearsal dinner the night before. That night, right?” Savanna crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at her friend. She was close to both Jesse and Ella, but if push came to shove, she’d have to side with Ella. “And why are you bringing that up?”
Savanna vaguely remembered babbling about that oops-moment to Jesse when they’d had too much tequila a few weeks ago, commiserating over their mutual singleness.
Shep was a firefighter in a small town outside the city, and he was one of Ella’s four overprotective brothers. And then there was Jesse. Definitely not a brother, but according to Ella, the most frustratingly overprotective guy in her life.
Savanna didn’t think Brian was the right man for Ella anyway, and she’d been quietly thrilled when Ella had canceled the ceremony. Ella went ahead with the reception, though, insisting the party was paid for, so why not?
The guests had let loose in classic Southern style—drinking, dancing, and singing until late into the night of Ella’s would-be wedding reception. Savanna and Shep had been drunk that night when they had sex, and upon waking the next morning, had both quickly agreed it was a never-should-have-happened, one-time-only mistake. Savanna was pretty certain Shep was also worried that A.J. would knock his teeth out if he found out his brother had slept with Savanna. In addition to being another one of Ella’s brothers, A.J. had also been Marcus’s best friend.
Marcus . . .
Savanna closed her eyes as the memories of her late husband gathered in her mind, still vivid after all these years.
Their wedding had been small and quaint, held in the middle of an open field surrounded by friends and family. Well, almost all of their family.
Savanna’s dad had walked her down the makeshift aisle—a freshly mowed strip of fragrant grass strewn with wildflowers—to the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with, but then Marcus died in 2015.
“You danced with Ella that night. Too bad it wasn’t you two who’d had a drunken moment together. Yours wouldn’t have been a mistake, at least,” Savanna said a moment later after pushing through the pain of her loss.
She drew in a deep breath and was instantly comforted by the lingering fragrance of her favorite Halloween-scented candles, the zesty orange, pumpkin spice, and dark plum mingling with the rich aromas of espresso beans and sweet cookies.
She double-checked all the candles had been blown out as Jesse headed toward the bookshelf he’d handmade for her café.
While working on a concept for the café last year, she’d butted heads with her designer, Ella’s mother. Deb had proposed about thirty shades of pink along with colors Savanna had never heard of before, but Savanna had declared that the color pink was to be limited to the hand towels, the sign outside, and the frosting on cakes and cookies.
She’d opted to go darker instead, wanting the shop to have a more intimate, almost romantic vibe—a place where you’d expect to see Hemingway tucked away at a corner table with his typewriter. Jesse had helped with construction to cut the costs too, and his furniture and cabinetry skills were a major plus.
He’d agreed with Savanna and helped her match the woodwork to the color of the full-bodied Italian-blend espresso beans, as well as tie in the slightly lighter hues of the beans she imported from Nicaragua into her furniture selection.
Then there was her favorite part, a small nook that seated up to eight guests and could be closed off with a sliding barn-like door Jesse had refurbished in whitewashed wood with brown accents.
“Does anyone other than you actually read these?” Jesse’s big paw of a hand abruptly snatched a novel from the bookshelf as if it’d somehow offended him.
The bottom three shelves were reserved for games. Who didn’t love to play Scrabble or a good old-fashioned game of Clue while sipping on coffee and munching on sugar cookies? But her favorite shelves were those designated for the book exchange. Romance novels lined the top three.
“They do, actually. And damn, Jesse. Dirty handprints on my windows—that’s one thing. Manhandle my romance novels and you’re looking for a fight.” She didn’t bother to hide her teasing grin when he peered at her, holding up a book whose cover featured a dashingly handsome man wearing a well-tailored suit. Billionaire bad boy. Alphahole. Office romance. All the sexy things.
He flipped it over and began reading the blurb as if he’d ever in a million years read the book. “The guy sounds like a real winner,” Jesse casually tossed out as if that was what he really wanted to talk about, then placed her book back on the shelf.
“Oh, he’s an asshole, actually. A dumbass who didn’t see a good thing right in front of him. And honestly, I wanted to smack him in the back of the head on more than one occasion.” The parallels between Jesse and the book’s hero had her smiling. “Like someone else I know.”
“So, you didn’t like the book?” he asked, ignoring the jab as well as the hint that he should quit dancing around his attraction to Ella and do something about it.
“Loved it. The woman brings him to his knees. Don’t worry.”
Jesse’s chin dipped ever so slightly as if he were about to launch into yet another denial of his feelings for Ella and remind Savanna not to hold her breath waiting for a romance book happily-ever-after because “it ain’t gonna happen.” Instead, he said, “I don’t understand women.”
“Clearly,” she couldn’t help but remark, eyes traveling back out the window, wondering if tonight would be the night that Ella’s date went well. And if so, would Jesse’s head explode? “She’s done waiting, by the way.” Savanna swallowed, feeling a bit bad, but she was angry on Ella’s behalf. “Probably.”
“Good. I don’t want her to wait for me. She needs to get on with her life. No idea how people got it into their heads we’re supposed to be together.” Jesse brought his knuckles to the side of his head and knocked as if everyone else was insane. Nope, that’d just be him for not making a move on Ella.
Savanna slapped a palm to her chest. “I swear, when it comes to that woman, you have no sense. I could swap you two nickels for a dime, and you’d think you’re rich. What is wrong with you?”
“Didn’t know it’d be comedy hour tonight. You charging for the show?” he returned with the same snark she’d delivered. “And also, I didn’t come for a lecture.”
“No, just to S-P-Y.” Did she really need to spell it out for him?
“I am here for you.”
“Mm-hm. And I’ll fall in love again one . . .” Her words trailed off, because well, they hurt. A little too much.
November was around the corner, the month her husband was executed by terrorists years ago. Marcus, along with Ella’s brother, A.J., had worked for an off-the-books team that ran special operations for the President of the United States. A team of ten Navy SEALs that the world didn’t know existed. Jesse probably had no clue his sister’s husband worked clandestine ops for Uncle Sam instead of handling security gigs for a private company, which was the story they told everyone.
“Savanna,” Jesse said on a soft exhale. “Marcus would be proud of you and this place.” His tone remained gentle, a sharp contrast to the overall ruggedness of a man who was once an Army Ranger and now worked with his hands designing beautiful pieces of furniture and cabinetry. “I only wish he was here to see it.”
And what if she lost this place? This was all she had left. That and Marcus’s red Ford Mustang, which he’d loved second to her, parked in the garage of her townhouse.
No way would she ever sell that car, either, even if it’d keep the shop open and a roof over her head. Nor would she touch the money hidden under her bed.
Savanna went back behind the counter to make sure everything was put away before she left for the night.
Tomorrow promised to be a long day. There were a few early Halloween activities happening, like the big candy-eating competition, which had been such a bad idea last year that Savanna was shocked the town council planned a repeat. Little Shawn Franklin won the contest by eating the most candy within five minutes, and then he immediately puked it back up, missing his empty candy bucket. To this day, Savanna still gagged at the sight of a Kit Kat bar or a piece of candy corn.
So she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, especially since she was providing all of the cookies for the frost-a-cookie contest, which turned into the eat-as-many-of-those-cookies-as-you-can (another dumb idea) competition afterward. But the winner won a thousand dollars and . . .
Hell, maybe I should enter? I could use the cash.
She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead when money frustrations crept back up. It was going to be another sleepless night worrying, wasn’t it?
Might as well read. Maybe a good fantasy romance? Paranormal? Hm.
“Your café closed five minutes ago,” Jesse said while checking his watch. “Does she always stay this long?”
“No, but she’s fixin’ to catch you here.”
A second later, Ella pushed open the door but caught it mid-swing with her palm and stopped in her tracks because she’d set her sights on the one and only Jesse McAdams standing but a few feet away from her.
I swear if I am only ever a side character within their epic love story . . . She wasn’t ready to give up on the idea of a “them” and assumed one day Jesse would remove his head from his ass, and Ella would forgive him for taking so long to make a move. But would she herself ever be able to feel anything for another man again?
There’d been no spark between her and Shep, and she was almost disappointed by that, which was a shame because she loved the feel of a man’s body against hers. The smell of cologne wafting in the air. Even doing laundry after a guy’s sweaty post-lift workout. She just couldn’t seem to actually feel anything in her heart for another man since Marcus died.
She knew Marcus would want her to move on. But she felt his presence everywhere. It was as if he were always watching over her. And she loved that, but she also felt as though she’d be cheating if she were to develop feelings for another man. So, fictional boyfriends were where it was at for now.
Savanna focused back on what seemed like a showdown between her two friends.
Jesse’s back was to her, but from his rigid stance, she knew his eyes were thinned and focused on the woman he loved standing before him in her skinny jeans and brown boots, paired with a fitted white top beneath a leather jacket, very similar to the one he wore.
“Not go well?” Savanna spoke up, hoping to break the awkward silence.
Ella finally stepped all the way inside and let the door swing shut, but she kept herself near the exit.
Done, done, done my ass.
The way she was looking at Jesse wasn’t a look of adoration. No, Ella’s eyes burned with anger.
And how would a romance author describe what was currently happening between them?
Palpable tension? The air crackled? Or something like that.
She wasn’t a writer, just a fan of the written word. And she was fairly certain their story was no longer going to be a friends-to-lovers romance but more like enemies-to-lovers at the rate they were going.
After all, the man did ruin her wedding and then basically ghosted her, breaking her heart just like the TikTok video had warned.
“Not go well?” Jesse repeated Savanna’s question when Ella’s lips remained glued shut.
His arms hung like dead weights at his sides, but his hands were tightly clenched like he wanted to go hit Ella’s mystery date.
Ella ignored his question and turned her attention to Savanna. “Same time tomorrow, okay?”
“What?” Jesse gasped, his strangled tone clearly conveying his shock. “You dating everyone with a pulse in town? How many dates has it been this week?”
Oh, oh, oh. I need some popcorn for this. Yup, I’m a side character.
Ella stepped closer to Jesse, menace in her eyes, and set her manicured forefinger to his chest and jabbed. “None. Of. Your. Damn. Business.” There was a hell of a lot more bite to her tone than even Savanna had expected.
“I’m walking you to your car. Make sure you get home safe,” he relented without adding more fuel to the fire, which was almost surprising. “I’ll be right back to walk you home, Savanna.”
“You don’t need to. I’m fine,” she returned.
Ella shook her head. “No, he’s right. There was that break-in the other day.”
How come she hadn’t heard about this break-in? Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.
Jesse brushed past Ella, then took a step back to hold the door open. If Savanna had a dime for every time that man pissed off Ella in the last two years, she’d be able to pay off her business loan twice over.
Ella was almost out the door when she turned and cut a hand through the air. “Oh shit, I almost forgot I promised to help you with the baking competition tomorrow. Want me to cancel my date?”
“No, it should wrap up by five. You can use my place to shower and get ready for your date afterward.” Savanna caught Jesse’s murderous glare as he stood behind Ella, a total contradiction to his bullshit claim that he wanted Ella to move on . . . but move on from what? They’d never even kissed. But hell, everyone knew they belonged to each other.
“Thanks, babe. See you tomorrow.” Ella’s smile dissolved as if in preparation to face Jesse.
Once she and Jesse were gone, Savanna went to the framed photo she kept tucked away on one of the shelves behind the counter of baked goods and held it. The picture was of Marcus in his dress whites when he’d been with his platoon before joining Ella’s brother to work the top-secret ops that ultimately led to his death.
Her hand shook as she stared down at the photo and let out a soft sigh, but a sudden noise in the kitchen area startled her into nearly dropping it. It sounded like someone had opened the back door. But there’s no one else in the café . . . is there?
She hurried to the window and searched the street for Jesse, but no one was out there.
Maybe she was hearing things, or damn, maybe someone was going to rob her?
After carefully setting down the frame, she decided not to be some dumb girl in a horror film that calls out hello and seeks out the noise.
She snatched her iPhone from the counter and slowly walked backward, keeping her eyes on the closed door to the hallway, which led to the kitchen where she’d swear the noise had come from.
Savanna’s eyes grew wide as she watched the handle slowly shift down and the door open an inch. The voice inside her head was yelling, Run. But before she had a chance to escape, the door opened all the way, and her shoulders fell with relief.
“Jesse Freakin’ McAdams, you’re going to be the death of me!”
“Why in the Sam Hill was your back door unlocked? Didn’t I just tell you about the recent burglaries?”
She huffed out a breath. “And why were you creeping up on me?”
“Ella’s car was on the street behind your place, and I thought I’d just double-check since I was back there. I didn’t think you’d be careless enough to leave that damn door open.”
“You’re grouchy. Wonder why? First name, Ella. Last name, Hawkins.” Now that her heart rate had returned to a normal rhythm, she walked over and playfully swatted him on the chest with the back of her hand. Then she grabbed her purse and keys to lock up the front so he could be his overbearing, protective self and walk her home.
“You should consider finding a better place to live,” Jesse said a few minutes later as they passed Rhodes Park, speaking up for the first time since they’d left the café. “Not that this is a bad location. But your townhouse is a bit more Motel 6 than Marriott. And at the very least, I think we’d all feel better if you had a security system.” He hip-checked her as they neared her townhouse, which had maybe seen better days. Like in the ’70s.
“Oh sure, I’ll go lease one of those fancy condos on Arlington. I’ll get right on that tomorrow after a bunch of kids puke up candy and cookies right outside my bakery.”
She slowed in front of the short path leading to the two-story brownstone townhome with a small fenced-in side yard and a one-car garage.
Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the place, wondering how in the hell she was going to avoid the property owner another month without paying her rent.
The suitcase of cash beneath her bed in the master bedroom was beginning to call her name louder and louder each day.
But her principles and morals quickly shut that voice up.
“Don’t tell me you left this door unlocked too?” Jesse fully faced her with a humorous scowl, which looked a little scary in the nearby streetlight that blinked as if on the verge of dying.
“You’re the comedian now, I see.” She brushed past him, drawing up the to-do list in her head for tonight. A hot shower. Some sulking about her lack of money. Then she’d drown her sorrows by reading. Hot alpha or beta?
Who am I kidding? Alpha. Always.
“Stop,” Jesse hissed urgently, his voice pitched so low she almost missed it as she inserted the key in the lock.
Savanna looked back to see him sprinting up the three brick steps to get to her. “I think someone is inside.”
She smiled. More joking, huh? Ignoring his antics, she turned the key and opened the door.
Within seconds, Savanna was grabbed, hauled through the doorway, and thrown against the staircase wall. She cursed when her cheek smashed against the plaster just before rough hands spun her around in one fast movement and hoisted her up, her feet dangling in the air.
“What the—” A gloved hand covered her mouth, and without a second thought, Savanna brought her knee up and shoved it into the asshole’s groin.
He let loose a painful grunt and released her, but only long enough to turn her around and lock his big arms around her chest, holding her still as she watched in horror while Jesse fought two other men she’d had no idea were there.
“Jesse,” she called out before the hand slapped over her mouth again, and the beast of a man held her squirming body tight in his arms, keeping her back to his chest so she couldn’t plant another wicked blow.
It took a second for her eyes to adjust in the dim lighting to realize Jesse was . . . a really freaking good fighter. It was like watching a scene from The Matrix or John Wick playing out before her with Jesse in the role of Keanu Reeves.
She continued to try and escape her captor as Jesse dodged the blade of a knife wielded by one assailant, then deftly took him down.
No guns? That was good, right? Or maybe they didn’t want to be heard by her neighbors, and Jesse could use that to his advantage.
The man loosened his hold of Savanna as if realizing his partners needed an assist before it was game over for them.
Jesse was barely breathing hard as he maneuvered left and right, dodging blows while connecting his fists with the men, almost like a choreographed dance.
The man freed her, then darted for Jesse.
“Look out!” she warned, but Jesse didn’t miss a beat.
He’d already stabbed one man with the guy’s own knife and drew the flat of the blade across the front of his shirt, wiping the blood free as an intimidation tactic to scare off the next enemy he was about to confront.
Savanna kept herself flattened against the wall, trying to stay away from the action while keeping her sights on Jesse. The blunt sounds of fists connecting to flesh and boots scuffling against the hardwood floor weren’t loud or dramatic like fights in the movies, though.
The intruder, who she’d kneed in the balls, was on his back in seconds, and Jesse knelt over him, holding the blade to his throat.
“Who sent you?” Jesse hissed, drawing his face close to the man.
With a growl, the guy wrapped his legs around Jesse’s back like some grappling UFC move she’d seen on TV, and he swapped positions with Jesse.
But only for a second.
They were back at the fight again, and the two other men . . . were gone. Shit.
The way Jesse moved, though . . . did they even teach that stuff in the Army?
Savanna slowly crouched to try and grab her purse when the big guy hit the ground with a hard thud by her feet. His eyes clocked her, but before he could make a move, Jesse dragged him away by the ankles, scraping his body across the floor.
She quickly seized the chance to snatch her phone just as the room grew dead silent—as in literally dead.
“Oh my God, Jesse. What’d you do?”
Jesse stood over the motionless body, his chest heaving with deep breaths. “Where are the others?” he growled out, obviously still charged from the fight and momentarily forgetting she was on his side.
“I think they ran away when they realized they couldn’t beat you. Must not have been carrying guns,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to piece together what happened. But it was messy and fragmented in her mind with a lifeless body by her booted feet.
Jesse knelt down next to the man, lifted his ski mask, then set his fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. “Are you okay?” he asked upon standing as if shaking away the anger that’d wound him up to the point he’d ended someone’s life. “I wanted to question him, but he was relentless.” Jesse slid his hand under his shirt, and Savanna flicked on the lights.
A pool of red blood spilled onto the hardwoods from beneath the body, but it was the blood on Jesse’s hand when he pulled it out from under his shirt that had her worried. “Oh my God.” She removed his jacket and lifted his tee. “He cut you.”
“Superficial. As long as you’re okay, I’m good.” His brows pinched as he offered her an easy nod.
“You told me not to come inside. How’d you know? And where’d you learn to fight like that?” She was dizzy. Her thoughts were spiraling. “That was more Denzel in The Equalizer than Army Ranger. I-I don’t understand.”
“Did they hurt you, did you hit your head?” Jesse reached for her chin with his non-bloody hand and angled her head side to side as if checking for damage. “No way are you making jokes after three guys broke into your place to do God knows what to you.”
“I’m not joking,” she said when he released her. “Who in the hell are you, Jesse McAdams?”
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