I remember the day she left. I thought her momma was joking when she said they were moving, so when they packed their bags and got into the car, I was left standing there, stunned. I was so hurt that I refused to say good-bye. We didn’t promise to write or even call each other. We were too young for those types of commitments. Watching her being driven away from me is my most vivid memory and one that has been replaying in my mind for the past week.
I was fifteen when she left. We’d grown up together, attending the same school, church and having Sunday suppers on her uncle’s wrap-around porch. Our mommas always joked that we’d end up married to each other as soon as she turned eighteen and we’d start spitting out babies. After a while, I just believed them. It seemed like destiny. That was until my teenage hormones kicked in, and when I discovered girls, Savannah wanted nothing to do with me. She caught me a time or two with my hands in places they shouldn’t have been and each time she’d just pretend like nothing was happening.
Even though our mommas wanted us to get married, there is an age difference between us and I matured faster. Savannah was quiet and shy, never really showing any interest in anything but her horse. Living in a small town, people have expectations and there was one on her and me, but it wasn’t like I could take her out on a date or anything. Looking at her now, I wish I could’ve.
I climb into the cab of my truck and pull the door shut. She jumps in and clutches her purse tightly to her body. I let my hand dangle over the steering wheel thinking about all the things I want to say to her. Right now the only thing forming is the idiotic sentence of “damn, you grew up”, but I have a feeling that will earn me a slap and I’d rather save that for later in the barn. I instantly chide myself for thinking I’ll get her to the barn like that. She just got here and I’m sure she has a rich pretty boy waiting on her back home.
“Hello, Savannah. Long time no see.” She adjusts slightly, turning farther away from me, and stares out her window. Her mood has changed from somewhat friendly to icy cold. I don’t blame her. The warm reception I gave the other woman was probably what she was expecting and didn’t get.
“It’s Vanna.”
I want to laugh at how straight-laced she sounds but hold back. Something tells me she’s turned into a spitfire and that would be the spark to set her off. I’ve already pissed her off enough for one day. Her uncle said something about her getting into trouble one too many times at school and that her momma is too busy with her job to keep her under control. Apparently the answer was to send her back to where she got her start, even if she’s not going to fit in around these parts anymore.
“Savannah,” I reply purposely. There’s no way in hell I’m calling her Vanna after that middle-aged letter turner that my grandma watches nightly.
She huffs, but doesn’t say anything. I get the impression that she’s used to getting her way, especially with men. Sadly for her, life doesn’t work like that in these parts.
“How far ‘til my uncle’s house?”
I look out the windshield, pretending I need to gauge the distance. I shrug. “Twenty minutes or so.”
“Well, shouldn’t we get moving?”
I shake my head and mentally kick my own ass for how this day has started. I’d like a redo, please. Hell yeah I’d jump out of this truck and scoop her up in my arms if I knew what she had grown into, but I was remembering my reserved Savannah, not the model sitting next to me.
Cranking my key to start the engine, I’m happy for the loud roar to drown out my thoughts about her and us… in the barn. It’s never gonna happen so I just need to stop thinking about it. I need to remember mud pie, cow tippin’ and catching lightnin’ bugs.
“Hang on tight, sweetheart.” I press down on the gas as I throw my truck into drive. She slams back against the seat, her door barely closed. I’m trying not to laugh but her high-pitched squeal is cracking me up. She’s turned into such a girly girl that someone is going to have to break her out of it and it ain’t gonna be me.
The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire is available now!
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Roped In
L.P. Dover
Copyright 2015 by L.P. Dover
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by L.P. Dover
About Roped In
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
About the Author
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THE REEDUCATION OF SAVANNAH MCGUIRE
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