they’ll fly full speed into walls, fall, flop around, then finally go legs up. Bottom line is, I don’t want to get involved with her.”
Cam shrugged. “Then don’t. Tell Yenta the Matchmaker to look for another victim.”
“You tell her. She’s your wife.” Zach fingered a turkey feather on the work table and finally gave voice to the thought that had been rolling around in his brain. “Maybe sleeping with her would get her out of my system.”
Even as he said, he realized the idea didn’t sit well. It wasn’t just sex with Savannah that he wanted. He’d had plenty of sex. This was different. This was weird.
Dangerous.
Cam scowled at him and spoke with a bit of grump in his tone. “Let’s try to have a little more white space between the phrases ‘your wife’ and ‘sleeping with her,’ all right?”
That managed to get a smile out of Zach. “You really are bothered by the fact that Sarah and I dated, aren’t you?”
“No. Okay, maybe a little. And because of that, I think I’ll point out that from my perspective, your being able to sleep with Savannah is far from a sure thing. All those sparks I witnessed at the ball game could be plain old dislike. Maybe your charm isn’t as legendary as you like to think.”
“Nah.” The sparks were real. The kiss this afternoon had proved that.
The woman confused him, probably because even though he knew the facts of her conviction and prison sentence, the circumstances around it remained unknown to him. She’d committed a crime and paid her debt, but until he knew her story, he didn’t really know the woman. Layers again.
“You know, Turner, it occurs to me that you’ve said more about Savannah in the past five minutes than you ever said about your snow bunny. I find that little detail interesting.”
Zach found it annoying. He couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. “Are you about through? I really would like to get that beer.”
“Almost. I just need to get something from the supply room. Give me a minute.”
It took him three, and when he returned, he handed Zach a brown paper bag containing something cylindrical. Looking inside, he saw it wasn’t the beer he expected. “What’s this?”
“I know I don’t have a license to sell ammo, but I couldn’t resist. It’s industrial strength.”
Zach read the label on the can of flying insect spray and grinned. “Awesome. Thanks, man.”
“Hey, if you’re contemplating ninja rolls on deerflies, supplying a little firepower is the least I can do. Especially since I want to be there to see it.”
A long, scented bath was first on Savannah’s to-do list when she returned home, but she found a note from Celeste Blessing hanging on her workshop door. Celeste requested that Savannah phone her at Angel’s Rest at her earliest convenience in order to discuss a potential business relationship. Savannah was tempted to ignore it—for no other reason than the older woman’s resemblance to Francine Vaughn. But as a businesswoman, Savannah couldn’t afford to miss potential opportunities due to her phobias. Whatever Celeste suggested, she would consider it, study it closely, and do her level best to use business instincts, not emotions, to make decisions.
Savannah put off her bath long enough to make the call, which turned out to be an excellent decision. Celeste wanted a new custom scent for the toiletries used at Angel’s Rest, and she’d offered Savannah the opportunity to present samples and a bid to win the business. The bed-and-breakfast business was something Savannah had targeted in her marketing plan, and getting Angel’s Rest for Savannah Soap Company products right out of the gate would be huge.
Ideas and possibilities swirled in her mind. She decided to forgo that bath and glass of wine for a quick shower and a diet soda while she retreated to her workshop to experiment with scents. She lectured herself to leave her worries about Zach Turner at the door, and for the next three days, she managed to do exactly that. Most of the time, anyway.
Celeste wanted a signature fragrance that was “light as a cloud, fresh as springtime, soothing to the soul, friendly, and uplifting, with a hint of spice to make it interesting.” Creating that scent would require much trial and error.
Savannah spent one entire morning categorizing her essential oils with Celeste’s wishes in mind. After that, it was match, mix, toss out; match, mix, toss out; et cetera, et cetera. By the time she left her workshop three days