Page 28 of Best In Class (Savannah's Best #7)

Luna

H e’s watching me when I open my eyes.

He brought me home and helped me take a shower. Then he put me to bed. Held me.

I let him.

I was feeling weak. Crushed. Devastated. And having the man I love care for me was a balm. I didn’t deny myself.

“What’s the time?” I ask.

“Ten.”

I close my eyes. I’ve slept for twelve hours straight. I needed it. The emotional toll of yesterday still sat heavy inside of me.

“Moonbeam.” He strokes my cheek.

I open my eyes.

“Say you love me.”

I narrow my eyes.

He smiles. “Say you love me. ”

“You don’t deserve the words.”

He kisses my nose. “I love you.”

“And you let my father run you out of town,” I accuse, pushing him away.

I get out of bed. I’m naked. I get my favorite Japanese-style silk robe from the closet and tie it around my waist.

He stays in bed, pillows stacked to raise his head, watching me.

“I need food,” I announce.

“Why don’t you take a shower. I’ll make grits and eggs?” he offers.

He’s a good cook. Not as good as Miss Abigail, but then no one is, but he’s pretty damn good.

I take a shower and change into linen shorts and a tank top. It’s hotter than Hades in Savannah, and I can’t wait for fall and some cooler weather to make an appearance.

We eat on the back patio.

The fan above us spins lazily, swishing the air just enough to cut the heat. The shade stretches across the flagstone like a protective veil.

Dom set the table with cloth napkins and matching mugs like he’s insisting on making this breakfast look intentional.

The grits are creamy, the eggs fluffy, and the bacon crispy. He remembered how I like my coffee—strong, black, no cream, no sugar.

We eat in silence for a few minutes.

My body thanks me with every bite, but my heart stays clenched .

I put my fork down. “Spill it,” I say.

He glances up, still chewing. “Hmm?”

“You heard me, Calder. All your secrets. Start talking.”

I pin him with my gaze, unfaltering. “ All of them .”

“Fine.” He takes a long sip of coffee, sets his cup down. “That day, when I told you I had a headache, I didn’t. I lied. I knew you’d ditch your plans with your friend and stay with me.”

I scowl at him. “Dom.”

“What?” He gives me an innocent look. “You said all my secrets . I’m starting at the start.”

I was fifteen and going to a party when he told me he wasn’t well. He’s right, I did leave my friends to stay with him. Stella had accused me of putting dicks before chicks, but I’d pleaded that Dom was ill.

“That time you were going fishing with Lev?” I remind him.

He waits.

“I lied that I was having trouble with calculus. I just didn’t want you to go.” I stick my tongue out at him.

He takes my hand and kisses it. “That’s not a secret, Moonbeam. I knew it then. Lev did, too.”

“Out with it,” I cry out.

“Fine.” He raises both hands, palms out in a placating gesture. “I never dated Camy…but I did bring her as a date whenever I knew you’d be somewhere.”

“Bravo,” I mutter. “Weaponized blonde privilege. Classy. ”

“You wouldn’t even talk to me,” he protests. “I…thought if I could make you jealous, I could win you back.”

“You’re insane,” I declare.

He’s about to respond but I cut him off, “You thought that parading around a blonde bimbo with fake tits?—”

“I told you the tits are real,” now he interrupts me.

I throw my napkin at him. He catches it.

“I thought you were with her…that’s why I ignored you.”

“Lev said the same thing.” He stretches out, arms behind his head. “But I never touched her. I don’t think I even like her.”

“You’re such a douche. That poor girl thought you were interested in her, Dom.”

He gives me an ‘ are you kidding me’ look. “She just wanted to ride a black stallion . Her words.”

“Ugh.”

“I know.”

“Go on,” I insist.

He regards me with quiet consideration. “You sure you want to know everything ?”

I give him a look that asks ‘ are you out of your fucking mind ’ without saying a word.

He drains his glass of orange juice. “Maybe I should add some vodka to it. Make a screwdriver.”

“I’ll screw the driver into you, Dominic Elijah Calder!”

He winces. “So bossy!”

I pick up a strawberry and shove it into my mouth so I won’t scream .

He finally says, “Don’t hurt me for this one.”

I growl in frustration.

“Tommy wasn’t going to give Savannah Lace the contract because you’re a bunch of broads playing architect .

His words. I told him he had to. You won the pitch fair and square.

He said,” he looks at me to make sure I don’t have a weapon in my hand, and seeing I’m only holding a strawberry, he continues, “he’d let you have the project if I’d supervise you. ”

I throw the strawberry at him. He catches it and pops it into his mouth.

“Supervise me, my ass.”

“You don’t need supervision, but I didn’t say that to Tommy. I stepped in, not to take it away from you, but to make sure you got it.”

“Well, let’s give the man the Feminist Of The Year award,” I mutter sarcastically, but I am touched.

Dom looks miffed. “I did it for you, Moonbeam.”

I snort. “Your grand feminist act was to attach yourself to my project and annoy the hell out of me?”

He pretends to consider my words and then nods slowly. “Yes.”

I stare at him, flat. “That’s both offensive and infuriating.”

“But true,” he points out.

“And”—I hold up a finger, deciding to give him a half an inch—“also kinda impressive, if I didn’t want to smack you for being such a goddamn martyr about it. ”

He laughs. I don’t join in, but I don’t give him a hard time about it, either.

It’s maddening, yes. But it’s also honest. No hedging. No dodging. Just Dom, laying it all out. Finally .

“What else?” I persist.

He shrugs. “I hate every man who looks at you, talks to you, even says your name.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Especially Devon.”

“Devon?” I am starting to enjoy this Dom who’s baring his heart to me. The hurt of what I learned yesterday is still there, but it’s not as sharp.

His eyes flick to me, his exasperation clear. “He wears fucking pink shorts.”

“You’re jealous of a man who sleeps with Rose Dixon and owns more linen than a bridal registry?”

He shrugs. “You smile at him.”

I shake my head, but my lips twitch. “Anything else?”

The fan hums above us. The trees rustle softly. It’s quiet. Easy. Too easy.

I glance at him again, and there’s a shift in his posture—an alertness.

“What?” I ask.

“Wait here. I need a minute.” He goes inside.

“Dom,” I call after him. “Don’t be dramatic?—”

He comes back out holding something small. A ring box. “I put it in the bedside drawer because it was in my pants.”

My breath catches .

“No.” I stand as silverware, the chair, and the table rattle at my speed. “Don’t you dare.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Do not open that fucking thing or I swear to God I’ll bean you with the”—I look around and see the cast iron skillet he served the eggs in—“ that .” I point to the heavy pan.

He grins—infuriatingly calm—and tucks the box into the pocket of his linen pants.

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

Am I disappointed or happy about this? Not sure.

“Nope,” he murmurs. “Not until you’re ready.”

I stare at him, unsure whether I want to punch him or kiss him.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” I admit, voice quiet now. “This…us…it’s still fragile.”

He looks at me, his heart in his eyes. “Then I’ll wait, Moonbeam.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

And that makes me love him even more.

Even if I won’t say it.

Maybe not for a while.

But I will.

Eventually.

He knows it, and I know it. And, I got to say, it feels damn good to have Dom back with me, to have the me who blossoms with him around .

Then, as if he didn’t just threaten to propose marriage to me, Dom sits back down and pours himself coffee.

I sit down as well, and he refills my cup.

Still, the man deserves to suffer a little, and I intend to make him.

I wonder how long Devon will be in town?