Page 42 of Dirty Delivery

"I’d be an idiot not to," he replies, his voice filled with appreciation. "You look incredible, Savannah."

His words catch me off guard, and I quickly turn back to the rack of clothes, pretending to be engrossed in finding something else. The heat in my cheeks betrays me, though, and I can feel his smirk burning into my back.

After finishing up in the boutique, we wander into a small café for lunch. The scent of fresh seafood and baked bread fills the air as we settle into a cozy booth by the window. The decor is charming, with weathered wood tables and nautical accents that scream small-town coastal life. Rylan orders for both of us, his confidence somehow endearing instead of annoying.

"So," I say between bites of the most delicious crab sandwich I’ve ever had. "This whole hiding-out thing . . . how long do you think it’ll last?"

Rylan’s smile fades at the edges, and he leans back in his seat to study me. "Long enough to keep you safe."

I roll my eyes. "That’s not an answer."

He leans forward again, his elbows resting on the table as he locks eyes with me. "It’s the only one I’ve got right now. But I promise you, Savannah, I’ll make sure you’re okay. Always."

The intensity in his gaze makes my heart stutter. I don’t know what to say, so I focus on my food instead, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up my cheeks.

Rylan

Savannah’s quiet during the ride back to the house, her arms resting on her lap as she stares out the window, lost in thought. I can tell she’s still processing everything, but I don’t push her. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

When we pull into the driveway, she finally looks over at me, her expression softening. "Thank you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, turning off the engine. "Anytime, mo stóirín."

Once inside, the house feels warmer, cozier, as if Savannah’s presence has brought it back to life. I haven’t returned since losing both of my parents. As a child, we spent every summer here, and the place is filled with countless cherished memories of our time together. But the thought of returning here without them was something I could never quite bring myself to face.

I watch her quietly as she carefully sets her new clothes on the couch, glancing around as though still processing everything.

"What do you think of the place?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

She hesitates, then smiles softly. "It’s beautiful. It doesn’t feel real."

I step closer and brush a strand of hair from her face. "It’s real. And for as long as we’re here, it’s yours."

Her eyes search mine, and for a moment, the weight of everything fades. Standing here with her feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but one thing is certain: I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

Later that evening, after she’s tried on everything we bought and teased me for my overly generous taste, we sit on the patio overlooking the ocean. The sun dips below the horizon, casting the water in hues of orange and gold. Savannah pulls a blanket over her lap, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"It’s so peaceful here," she says softly. "I almost forgot what it feels like to just . . . breathe."

I lean back in my chair, watching her as much as the view. "You deserve that peace, mo stóirín."

She glances at me, her expression unreadable. "And you? When was the last time you let yourself breathe?"

The question catches me off guard. I’m used to deflecting, burying things deep enough that no one bothers to dig. But with her, the words come easier. "It’s been a while," I admit.

She smiles faintly and looks back at the ocean. "Then maybe we both need this."

The night deepens, the stars bright above us. For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us, sitting side by side in a fragile bubble of calm. And for the first time in years, I let myself imagine a future full of peace.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Savannah

The sound of the ocean outside is soothing, but even its calming rhythm can't wash away the unease lingering within me. This house, as beautiful as it is, feels too vast and empty. Rylan stands near the door, pulling on his leather jacket, and I watch him with a mix of curiosity and unease.

“I need to run back into town for a few things I forgot,” he says, his tone casual. “Won’t be long. No one will find us here.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What could you possibly need in town? We just went shopping.”

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