his attention.
Shit.
He hustled down the hallway into his bedroom and pressed his nose to the window. The faint pool of light spilling out from his room cast a large rectangle on the ground between the house and Savannah’s caravan, but not enough to see what caused the bang. Only Daisy’s black outline and the towering, swaying silhouettes of the trees behind it were visible.
Another gust blew around the house, and the little caravan shuddered.
Screw it. The world’s biggest sucker for Savannah-the-damsel-in-distress would have to go out in the pouring rain and check her caravan wasn’t falling in around her ears.
He could, at least, guarantee it wasn’t her awning, since ignoring her protests of independent womanhood, he’d manhandled the damn thing down earlier. Then he’d politely suggested she pack up her flamingos and butt-ugly gnomes before the wind sent them hurtling through one of the house windows. Her pretty green eyes had narrowed into her bite me glare, but she’d tidied away her crap without a word while he’d fought with the wind and awning.
He’d been tempted to invite her inside for the night, since Daisy was so ancient she probably leaked like a bastard, but after a “Thank you, Glen,” sweet enough to trickle through his blood like melted honey, she shut the door in his face. Glen grinned as he tugged on his jacket, imagining the look on her face if she’d spotted the jumbo sized box of condoms hidden amongst his groceries that he’d picked up that afternoon. Couldn’t blame a guy for dreaming…
Gumboots on, jacket zipped to the neck with hood pulled low over his eyes, Glen switched on his flashlight and stepped out onto the deck. Wind slammed into his face and blasted past him, chased by a volley of raindrops that stung like shotgun pellets. He strode off the deck and onto the grass, water splashing up over his gumboots as the ground struggled to absorb the deluge. Another gust howled past, and the flashlight beam located the source of banging—Savannah’s portable clothes-drying rack in a bent, tangled jumble of metal on its side behind the caravan. She must’ve forgotten to store it.
His gut tightened as rain continued to slant down, fat, cold drops that pelted against his jeans, soaking them in an instant. He’d had half an ear tuned for a knock on his door all evening, waiting for Savannah to swallow her pride and just ask if she could shelter inside for the night. Her stubbornness surprised him again. Surprised and irked more than it should’ve.
He dragged a hand down his wet face and shook his head, trying to gather some sort of composure. Though he’d discovered the source of the banging, he couldn’t, in good conscience, forgo making sure Savannah was okay.
Nate had already been up a couple of hours ago to try to convince her to stay with him and Lauren for the night. From the look on Nate’s face as he’d raised a hand in farewell to Glen before hopping back in the Range Rover, Savannah had sent her cousin away with a flea in his ear. Why she hadn’t wanted to go with Nate instead of toughing it out on her own…
Glen stumbled to a halt outside the caravan’s door.
Perhaps she’d been waiting for him to invite her into his house…maybe even into his bed. Warmth coiled around his chest and gave a little squeeze.
You are such a goddamn idiot, Coop.
Glen banged on the door. “Savannah?”
Shuffling noises from inside, then the snick of a lock unlatching. The door opened, and he grabbed it before it banged against the caravan’s side. Inside was pitch dark, except for her dinky penlight torch directing a fine beam of light onto fluffy pink socks. He aimed the beam of his bigger flashlight up legs covered in baggy white fleece to arms folded defensively across a pile of papers—her script. There was enough light now to see Savannah’s outfit had a white hood tugged low over her face…and droopy bunny ears attached to it.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he blurted.
“It’s a wo-wo-onesie. Lauren and Drew gave it to m-m-me. It’s the w-w-warmest thing I’ve got.” She took a half step back from the door. “Sh-sh-shut the door. You’re letting in m-m-more cold air.”
He didn’t need a thermometer to tell Daisy resembled a jumbo-sized icebox. His stomach clenched so hard it squeezed up into his chest cavity. “Jesus, Sav. Get your boots on and come inside with me.”
“No, I’m—”
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me