Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(20)
“So, like . . . what if the completely unfeasible happens and Zane Larson falls in love with you on sight?”
Rowan barked with laughter. “Fat. Chance.”
“Stranger things have happened. Seriously, what would you do?”
“God, Savannah! There’s no sense in even thinking about that. I’m sure I’ll get all of thirty seconds in the same room with him. Besides . . . no. Tommy’s gone, but not from my heart, you know?” She could probably get more time with Zane if only she would be a little nicer to Michael, but that was none of Savannah’s business.
“I know,” Savannah said lightly. Rowan still wore her wedding ring; the diamond flashed in the sunlight even now. “It’s too soon for you. But, you’re young, extremely pretty—”
“Extremely pregnant.”
“Well, not extremely. Not yet.” She laughed, glancing down at Rowan’s still-flat stomach. Or her pooch, as she insisted. “I’m just warning you now. My parents are going to make it extremely hard for you to break away and have a relationship when you’re ready. Tommy was their baby boy, and my mother would have a coronary to think that you would even dare consider moving on from his memory. Look how she reacted to you going away with me for the weekend.”
Rowan sighed. “Too much to worry about right now. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I doubt we will for a long, long time.”
The wait for the flight was torture, but at least the flight itself was on time and short. Rowan cowered in the aisle seat, jumping at every little bump of turbulence and not wanting to be anywhere near the window despite Savannah coaxing her to take a look. Savannah gazed out at the clouds for most of the trip, her earbuds in, her thoughts on the night ahead. She had no idea what it would hold, but she bet it wouldn’t be boring.
Bush Intercontinental was a monstrosity. Savannah had texted Mike their gate number as soon as she knew it, and he assured her that a car would be waiting for them at their terminal’s passenger pickup. Not having any baggage to claim, they made straight for the doors, but they didn’t have to search; a man in a chauffeur’s uniform stood in the area holding a sign reading DUGAS.
“Fancy,” Rowan muttered giddily, and they scuttled over to him. He took both of their bags and led them out the bank of doors . . . to a blindingly white Navigator stretch limo parked at the curb.
“Wow,” Savannah said as Rowan settled for “Oh. Em. Gee.” She turned big green eyes on Savannah. “We’re going all high class.”
Savannah shook her head dazedly. Was this right? Must be; the driver popped open the door at the back and helped both girls inside. “All he said was a car,” she whispered to Rowan as they settled on the seat, taking in the sumptuous interior. It was all white leather, so immaculate that she was afraid to touch anything lest she leave a smudge, or dirty up the pristine white carpet beneath her feet. The clean smell of leather was heady and intoxicating. “I expected . . . you know, a car.”
“This is amazing! Do you think it’s Zane’s private limo? Probably not, right? But I mean, it’s really nice. Do you think he’s actually been in here?” Rowan was all over the place, taking in the wet bar, flat-screen TV, and all the overhead controls.
“I have no idea.” Savannah gazed up through the tinted sunroof for a moment, then lifted her cell phone and shot Mike a text. Just got in the CAR. Wow! We’re like two kids in a candy store. Thank you! Rowan wants to know if Zane might have been in here.
His reply came as the Navigator pulled slowly away from the curb. It brought us to the venue a couple of hours ago, so yes. And you’re welcome. Have fun.
“Rowan, my dear, get ready to squeal.”
“What what what?”
“Zane Larson’s ass was in contact with these leather seats no more than two hours ago.”
Which prompted Rowan to expire dramatically across the long seat that ran the length of the vehicle. Savannah laughed, enjoying seeing her have fun again. “This is so. Fucking. Unbelievable.”
“I need a drink,” Savannah said in agreement, staring at the wet bar across from them. She sent Rowan an apologetic look. “But I’ll abstain out of respect, I guess.”
Seeming to realize she was demolishing her hair, Rowan sat up and grabbed a compact mirror out of her purse. “I don’t mind. Knock yourself out. Even if I weren’t pregnant, I’d want all my senses about me. I don’t want to forget a minute of this.” After assessing the damage, she pulled a makeup bag out of her carry-on and set about touching up. For someone who only expected to see the guy for thirty seconds, she was sure trying to look hot for him. But Savannah couldn’t blame her. Who didn’t want to look their best when they were meeting a rock star? She might have some damage to repair herself.
“Oh please,” Rowan said when Savannah pulled out her own much smaller bag. “Like you need it. Some of us weren’t blessed with perfect complexions.”
Savannah didn’t comment that she was forever grateful for her complexion because she was hopeless with most makeup. It just wasn’t her thing, but then that was probably because she’d never needed it. Some mascara, a touch of eyeliner and lip gloss, and she was good to go. “Sorry. I would share if I could.”
“You have your mom’s skin. So did Tommy. I’ve always been so jealous.”