Southern Storm (Southern 3) - Page 23

I walk over to him and see that it has the word bitch painted in red.

“I’ve been called worse.” I try not to let it get to me. I wonder what everyone would say if they knew I’ve had sex once in my whole life. We walk to the other room, and I see another brick. This time, I pick it up, and I see it has whore painted in red.

“Well, I’m sensing a theme.” I shake my head, and my stomach sinks. The burning starts in my eyes and then moves down to my nose, and I wonder how I can pull off the whole “I have allergies” in the middle of the house. We walk into the kitchen, and I see both back windows with holes in them. One brick has slut, and the other one has nothing.

“I guess they ran out of words.” When I try to laugh, a sob rips through me, surprising me. The brick falls out of my hand, making the loudest sound when it lands by my feet on the broken glass. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to keep the sound from echoing.

Grady walks over to me and takes me in his arms. I want to tell him I’m fine, and it doesn’t bother me, but the only thing that comes out is another sob.

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly, and before I can say anything, I hear the front door open and Beau shouting my name.

He comes running into the kitchen and sees me in Grady’s arms, and I think I see him glare but I’m not sure. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks, looking around and then he spots the bricks that Grady put on my counter. His eyes fly from the bricks to me, and I step out of Grady’s arms. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” I say, walking to the side of the couch and grabbing a tissue. “I got here, and I saw the window.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. I shrug, but I don’t make eye contact with him.

“Not much you can do,” Grady answers. “I’m going to make a report and check to see if there is anything out of place in the bedrooms.” I nod as he walks back to the bedrooms.

“Savannah.” Beau calls my name, and I look at him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I called Jacob,” I say, and he just looks at me.

“Why?” he asks. I look at him and then quickly look away. It always hurts to look at him after he was on a date or whenever I hear the rumor mill going full force on his conquests.

“I figured you were busy,” I say and walk to the fridge to get a bottle of water. Grady comes back from the bedrooms.

“It looks like everything is in its place, but I’m going to need you to confirm it.” He looks at me. “Jacob said that he is going to send someone to board up the windows, but he doesn’t want you spending the night here.”

“I agree,” Beau says, and I look at him. “Until the windows are replaced, you need to pack a bag.”

“I’ll be outside,” Grady says, and he walks out.

“Fine. I guess I can stay at the motel in town,” I say, pissed that I’m being run out of my home.

“Savannah.” He calls my name when I look down, blinking away tears. “You aren’t staying at the motel in town.” I bring the water bottle to my lips and take a sip. My mouth drier than the desert in the summer. “You can stay with me.”

I’m about to tell him that I’ll be fine and that I don’t want to stay in his house. Standing here in the kitchen with him, I wonder if he was with someone just now and if I maybe interrupted his date. Knowing it is one thing but seeing it? Two different things. “I don’t want to cramp your style,” I say, leaning back on the counter and putting the water bottle on the counter. “I can call Jacob and see if I can crash on their couch.”

“Cramp my style?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t even know what that means.”

I’ve had a really shitty day, and whatever patience I have is gone. “It means that you have women who obviously like to stop by, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

“One,” he says, walking toward me, “you never get in the way, and two …” He stands right in front of me, and I really hope he doesn’t touch me. “That’s the first time anyone has come into my house.” My heart speeds up, and I try to make sure that I have my poker face on. I’m not supposed to show him that it bothers me, and I hate it. He isn’t supposed to know. “So pack your bag, Savannah.”

Tags: Natasha Madison Southern Romance
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