On The Rocks

“Totally exciting,” I tell her with sympathy.

Savannah is a photographer, and she’s really, really good. She does some freelance stuff for wildlife magazines and such, but her main job is with our local newspaper, which doesn’t pay all that much. She’s struggling but determined to make her way.

I met Savannah when I moved back home after dropping out of Carolina three years ago. The obvious choice was to move in with my mom, but I really wanted to be out on my own. If I was going to take over my dad’s business and make a go of it, I wanted to really make a go of it. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a successful business owner, and that meant being able to fully support myself.

But I really couldn’t afford a place on my own and Casey was unemployed and living with her parents, so I put an ad in the paper and Savannah responded. She’s a year older than I am, and she wanted to relocate to the Outer Banks in order to explore the amazing wildlife and scenic opportunities the beach held. Luckily, we hit it off wonderfully and were content as roommates, although she’s a little bit shy and withdrawn.

“I won’t be home until late tonight,” she says. “After work, I’m going to go help Alyssa out at The Haven for a bit, and then I’m doing some wedding portraits tonight.”

Savannah is one of the busiest people I’ve ever met. She never slows down and spends most of her time trying to pick up extra odd jobs in order to help pay her bills. I grimace in distaste at her mention of doing wedding portraits tonight. She started working part-time as an assistant for this sleazy photographer who keeps trying to cop a feel on her. Luckily, she’s been able to rebuff him, but I don’t like her being in that position.

“Just be careful around that douche,” I warn her. “Don’t get stuck there with him alone. I don’t trust him.”

Giving a small laugh, Savannah slings her camera bag over her shoulder. “I don’t trust him either. I’ll be careful. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” I tell her with an encouraging smile as I watch her walk to the door. Glancing over at the wall clock, I note it’s getting close to eight AM and I need to get moving. I’m working on some custom bathroom cabinets for one of my mom’s poker buddies. Yes, my mom plays poker, and she’s quite good at it too.

I turn toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms when I hear Savannah open the front door and exclaim in surprise, “Uh… hello.”

Turning around, I see Hunter standing there with his fist raised to knock on the door. He’s surprised to see Savannah, and then his eyes move past her and on to me. His gaze slowly slides down my body, and it’s at this point that I realize I’m in my pajamas… which means I’m wearing a tight tank top that doesn’t even cover my stomach fully and a pair of bikini underwear. Definitely not clothing I’m embarrassed to wear in my own home and in front of Savannah, but totally a different matter when Hunter is standing in my doorway.

He eyes me appreciatively, and a smile curves those lips upward. Dragging his gaze back up to mine, he says, “Nice outfit.”

I could be embarrassed, flub out some type of apology, and then scamper to my room. But that would give him power over me, so instead, I push my shoulders back, tilt my head proudly, and walk up to him. His smile just gets wider as I approach.

“What do you want, Hunter?”

He does a quick rake of his eyes down me one more time now that I’m standing close, and then turns to look at Savannah. Sticking his hand out, he says, “I’m Hunter Markham.”