Cooper Banks peered around the raised hood of the Pagoda Green ’64 ½ Mustang to squint across the pedestrian-busy crosswalk heading to and from the Dove Harbor, Georgia waterfront. Slightly distorted by the coils of heat rising off the concrete, strolled the very reason he was there.
Savannah Jane Scott.
Bleached blond waves pinned in a loose ponytail over the left shoulder of a teal polo shirt. White shorts revealed toned, petite legs ending in nude flip-flops. She wasn’t your average twenty-five-year-old and was far and away the girl he’d last seen three years ago.
He found himself smiling despite himself. He would recognize that walk anywhere. Thumbs hooked to the messenger bag strap set in a diagonal across her chest, while those fingertips played absently over her stomach. The elbows jutting out just enough to strike anyone passing by too close. They’d been a hazard to ribcages since the second grade.
He took up a red, grease-stained rag and scrubbed his hands as he sauntered around the front of the car. He needed to be much closer than that, but after three years apart, there was something to be said for appreciating from a distance.
“Not exactly how I planned to run into her,” he whispered to himself, utterly transfixed. Confidence shored up in him like a ship to familiar land. “But who am I to ignore a cosmic setup?”
Decided, he took one step and felt an unbalancing shift as something invisible completely flipped his insides around. Having spent years being professionally checked by two-hundred-plus-pound hockey players, it’d been a while since he felt nervous about anything. Which was ridiculous because Savannah Jane was the equivalent to a warm drop of rain falling from the sky.
He chuckled derisively to himself. If that particular raindrop bounced off the ground in the form of a shark. He was pretty sure the moment Savannah set those gorgeous blue eyes on him he’d walk away with a huge bite taken from the middle of his chest. Pain he would suffer deservedly while charming his way back into her good graces.
Maybe his head was ready to head on over there, all thoughtlessly brave. But his heart was not yet prepared to suffer rejection. Neither were his feet, apparently, as they were rooted to concrete.
Fate intervened on his behalf, saving him from the humiliation of chickening out. The tow truck he’d called pulled up alongside Betty, the name Cooper’s dad gave the classic car two decades ago. A lined face peered through the passenger window, glancing down at where Betty had wheezed her last breath. The second those eyes set on Cooper, exhaustion deepened the man’s wrinkles.
Not the reaction he was used to these days, but not unexpected. Small towns like this remembered every mistake made by every resident, and Cooper’s was an unforgivable curse in most circles. This was another reason he was there. He was going to fix that, come hell or high water.
The man got out and meandered around toward Cooper, his name tag boasting the name BUCK in all caps. “You’re Andy Banks’ boy.”
It’d been a long time since anyone called him that, and it certainly wasn’t a question requiring an answer. More a statement of fact. Sort of like: No, you don’t use fireworks in a fireplace. Or: No, actually, the sun doesn’t set in the morning; it rises. Statements for idiots-like. And Coop was the idiot.
“That’s me. Andy Banks’ Boy. Friends just call me Andy’s Boy.”
Buck’s frown deepened. “What’s that?”
“Tough crowd,” Cooper murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What’s that?” the driver asked again.
Cooper’s gaze slid past Buck to where he’d been absently following the blond head. Savannah Jane had stopped in front of a bench and heaved the messenger bag over her head. She looked radiant in the late afternoon sun, and he felt an acute sense of longing. If she didn’t forgive him, he didn’t know what he would do.
One deep breath later, Cooper threw on his All-Star smile like a coat of armor, and jutted a firm hand forward with only a small concern Buck would bite first, shake hands later. “How are you, sir? Thanks for coming so fast.”
Buck flicked his gaze down to the grease rag hanging loosely at Cooper’s side. “Think you can rifle around a classic like that, get some grease on your hands, and that engine will just start itself?”
His father not only showed him how to keep Betty running but also taught him to be polite. That had to come first and foremost to his pride. No matter what.
Smile still in full force, he said, “No, sir. I plan to leave the miracles to you.”
The mechanic lifted a soft pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and propped one in the corner of his mouth. “Best idea you’ve had all your life, son. Your daddy’d be proud.”
One day someone would say that without a sarcastic tone attached. Because he may be long gone, but if there’s one thing Cooper was sure of, it was that Andrew Banks was proud of his son. Those were his final words, in fact. But the rest of town hadn’t been around for that parting conversation, and their assumptions otherwise had killed any chance Cooper had of a welcome homecoming.
Buck made quick work of writing up a service ticket, getting the ignition key, and hooking Betty to the tow. In fact, he barely gave Coop a chance to retrieve his bags and cell phone before hopping in the cab saying, “I’m not a taxi service. You’ll have to get his own ride.”
Bags at his ankles, scowling at the backend of his dead car moving away, Cooper released a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to go. He was meant to come home and take a quick look around town before going to the house. The drive was less about taking in the old haunts, and more about avoiding his brother Josh for just a while longer.
Cooper considered crossing over to Savannah. Not only for the ride he needed but finding out how much work he had to do to get her back. Then again, he’d just spent eight hours in the car under a hot sun. The first impression he made had to count.
Yes, he realized he was making excuses. Time to bite the lesser of two bullets.
Cooper thumbed through his contacts to “Joshua Banks” and tapped the little phone icon. Five rings later, his brother’s voice penetrated the hollow silence, sounding very far away. “This better be important, little bro. I’m busy.”
“Betty broke down, and I could use a ride. I’m on the corner of—”
“You’re an important guy. You need a ride? Call someone who cares that the Rajun Cajuns star leftwinger is stranded on the corner of I Could Give and Two Shits.”
The click on the other end had Cooper pulling the phone away to stare at the disappearing keypad with “Call Ended” at the top. “It’s the Cajun Rage, assmunch.”
“What’s an assmunch?”
Cooper followed the high-pitched sound belonging to a child. A woman steered her young daughter in a wide berth on the sidewalk, glaring at him. So much for his first first impression back home.
Cooper threw on his megawatt smile. “I apologize, ma’am. Didn’t see you there. I promise to be more careful in the future.”
He had to get off this street. And unlike the streets he’d become accustomed to in New Orleans, there wouldn’t be a single taxi happening by. And according to his Uber app, those were still nonexistent in these parts of the world. A quick internet search gave him the number to a taxi service, and he hit call. At most, he’d have to wait fifteen minutes. The benefit to small-town life.
As he waited for someone to pick up the other end of the line, his gaze drifted over the palmettos and cyprus trees sprouting up and around brick inlaid walkways along the shoreline. A raspy-voiced woman answered his call just as his attention fell on Savannah Jane’s white blond hair, the smooth strands glowing in the sunlight. She now sat facing the ferry currently dropping off passengers returning from Morgan Island.
He wanted to be next to her so badly that his lungs constricted. Watching her stare over an open laptop reminded him of their earliest days. The way they held pinkies instead of hands. Lying on their backs while the merry-go-round spun to a lazy stop, in which case he’d get back up to restart them. Those childish, infatuation-ridden notes they used to pass in class. Do you like me? Check yes or no. She’d always checked yes. So had he.
Always.
“Hello?” the woman on the phone inquired a second time.
He startled and tried gathering himself. “Never mind. Sorry.”
Cooper hung up and took a shaky breath. “You better not fuck this up.”
Braced for impact, he crossed the street.