Page 15 of Ace (The Deuces Wild #4)

The pecan waffles weren’t that tasty after all.

They stuck in her throat and they were too sweet.

Savannah couldn’t seem to summon enough spit to swallow the dough, but worse?

She couldn’t wait to get away from Agent Boniface.

That annoying voice in the back of her mind kept telling her she’d been foolish to think this handsome white man could be attracted to her.

He was a professional federal agent, uptight and in strict control of everything he did.

He could never want a woman like her. The sooner they visited Sanctuary, and once he realized what she did for a living, he’d be long gone.

But that poor elderly gentleman across the aisle.

.. She couldn’t keep from eavesdropping on the turmoil in his mind.

Lyle Goldenrod. Former basketball coach at the local high school.

Recent widower. Going on seventy-seven with a heart condition.

A has been. Washed up. A burden to his daughter and her two sons.

Easily confused. Prone to wander off and forget things.

Like his car. Where he lived. Where he left his keys…

And enough. “Excuse me,” Savannah told Keller as she eased out of the booth, calling out, “Mr. Goldenrod? Oh my gosh, is it really you?”

That stopped his daughter cold. Made Keller look, too. But the sweet silver-haired gentleman’s sweet blue eyes lit up as if he knew Savannah. “Well, hi there, Miss—”

“Church! Savannah Church!” she interrupted as she crossed the aisle and slid into the booth next to him. “I meant to call earlier to tell you congratulations! You’re hired!”

“I’m hired?” he said the same moment his daughter spiked an imperious brow and asked, “He’s what?”

It took Savannah mere seconds to retrieve this unsmiling woman’s name from her overly organized, calculating, stress-filled head.

“Oh, hi, Virginia. Your dad told me what a help you’ve been.

Yes, I put an ad in the paper for a ground's assistant a couple weeks ago, and your father applied. I’m afraid I don’t have enough work for a forty-hour week, but I do need someone to help around Sanctuary while I tend to my dogs. ”

“And just what is Sanctuary?” Virginia asked.

Whoa. Could she get more condescending?

“Excuse me, I should’ve introduced myself better.

I’m Savannah Church, the owner and manager of Sanctuary, the only privately-owned dog shelter east of New Orleans.

It’s not far from here.” She turned to the elder Goldenrod at her side.

He’d already made room for her on the bench and had turned his shoulders to face her.

“Do you still want the job? Oh, I hope so. If you do, I’ll need you to start first thing Monday morning.

The job comes with free room and board, meals, plus plenty of fresh air and all the four-legged companionship you can stand. ”

He took her hand in his, which gave Savannah another chance to instill calming reassurance into him despite her out of the blue announcement.

His hand was cold to the touch and frail.

But she sensed determination and pride. “I’m afraid it isn’t technically challenging work, Coach Goldenrod, but I really need someone I can trust. Someone I won’t have to train.

Someone like you.” And he needed this opportunity to get out from his daughter’s domineering plan for the rest of his life.

An assisted care center? What a waste of an intelligent man’s life.

So what if he was a little forgetful? Savannah forgot things all the time. She ended with, “Please?”

“I most humbly accept, Miss Church,” he said, a light back in his weary blue eyes. “How about we negotiate wages and benefits Monday morning? I might have a few ideas for Sanctuary.”

What a charming fellow! Savannah could have hugged him for catching on so fast and playing along.

“Dad,” Virginia said sternly. “I don’t think—”

That was the problem. Her stern attitude.

She talked down to this delightful father of hers as if he were an errant child instead of her respected elder.

Which Savannah understood. Caretakers were the easily forgotten shadows in the waning years of their parents’ lives.

They suffered in silence as the joy and satisfaction of their lives was slowly sucked into the never-ending health issues of their aged mother and father. But that was the circle of life.

“Ginny,” he replied just as sternly. Go, Lyle! Go! “I need this, and that’s all there is to it.”

“But Dad…”

Lyle Goldenrod’s left brow lifted.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

He cocked his head.

Reaching across the table, Savannah laid a hand over Ginny’s white-knuckled fist to infuse her with a titch more trust in her father.

“I’ve looked up to Coach Goldenrod since the first time I saw him.

” Which was true. Lyle’s projected grief and loss for his wife were what snagged her attention about fifteen minutes ago.

How could she not admire a man who’d loved the same woman for more than fifty years?

“You’re so lucky your father lives with you. I never knew mine.”

Ginny’s gaze scrolled to her father. “If you’re sure…”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as if they’d forgotten how to do that. “I am. I know this comes as a surprise to you. Frankly, I’m surprised, too.” He squeezed Savannah’s hand. “Let’s discuss your plans for my future more after breakfast, Ginny. I’m not ready to be put out to pasture.”

Savannah took that as a good sign. Dialogue worked so much better than domination. She plucked Ginny’s home phone number from Lyle’s mind and said, “It’s been so good to meet you Ginny, but I’ve taken enough of your time. I’ll be in touch, Coach. See you Monday!”

“I’m counting on it,” he replied as he patted the back of her hand before she got away. “Until Monday.”

“Until Monday,” Savannah purred, pleased that Lyle Goldenrod had accepted her off-the-cuff offer. Just as pleased she’d thought of it. A groundskeeper was precisely what she needed. She wished she’d thought of it sooner.

Sighing, she eased back into her booth to face the self-controlled federal agent across from her.

She had herself convinced Keller was as uptight as an Army general until he stretched that clean, gentlemanly hand across the sea of dirty plates between them, took careful hold of her fingertips, and said, “You’re something else, Savannah. Why’d you name your place Sanctuary?”

Her heart nearly leaped out of her throat at the gentle contact. She used the same tactic to instill peace in her outcast cats and dogs. A calming touch worked wonders on frightened creatures, even that possum she’d rescued one time.

Only Savannah wasn’t frightened. Suddenly, she was mad at herself all over again for ever thinking a ‘woman of color’ like her stood a chance with a strong, handsome white man the likes of Keller Boniface.

Holy Mother, he was beautiful. Yet even his title declared their differences.

Special agents were highly skilled, intelligent professionals.

Men of the world. White collar all the way.

No doubt he had a college degree, possibly a masters .

But you’re just an enterprising woman with a high school diploma who cleans kennels and collects unwanted strays for a living. Someone like you has no business lusting after a man like him.

There was her nagging inner voice again, reminding her what the two of them must look like to the other customers in this restaurant.

Him in his elegant business suit and polished leather shoes.

She in everyday shorts, dirty denim shorts at that, ratty pink tank top, and wearing Gran Mere’s old canvas sandals.

Him from the civilized world, dining with a hick from the swamps who barely knew how to order breakfast. She hadn’t even combed her hair since that freakish windstorm inside Gran Mere’s.

Self-conscious now and aware of every other customer in the place, Savannah raked her free hand across her bangs just in case her hair looked as bad as she thought.

Somewhere along the line she’d inherited the straight hair gene.

What she wouldn’t give for a little curl right then to tuck her hair behind her ears and keep it out of her eyes.

Stretching forward, Keller traced the tip of his index finger over her forehead, then tucked another loose strand behind her ear. Clever man must read body language.

“I called it Sanctuary because animals aren’t any different than humans,” she told him earnestly. “Every living thing needs safe shelter. That’s where we heal best.”

Where on earth was Tyrone? She needed another sip of coffee, and she needed it quick. Her throat had gone sandpaper dry, and her poor heart seemed to be climbing up her throat and into her mouth. She could barely think with the warmth whispering off Keller’s fingertips.

“Are all your rescues adoptable or do you rescue them to keep them?”

“Every l-l-last one of them’s adoptable.” And now she was stuttering. Wait, is he leaning forward? No, I am! She promptly stiffened her back. Gran Mere always said guys didn’t like pushy women. “And, and, and…” And now I sound like a teenage girl with a crush.

Pulling out of his tender reach, Savannah cleared her throat to keep from scrambling across the table and into his arms. “I…I advertise. That way people know my dogs are healthy and safe.”

Man, this guy had thick, let-me-touch-you eyelashes.

She wanted to run her hands all over that intent, sexy face, her thumbs over his brows, not to mention what she wanted to do with that mouth.

Those lips. “I run…” Cough, cough, cough.

“…adopt-a-thons out of the local pet stores when they let me. Howie’s is the best. Mr. Howard even fosters some of my babies to help me find homes for them. ”

“In N’Orlinz?” Agent Boniface pronounced New Orleans like a local.