“So, I was thinking…” Her tone was cautious.
“What?”
She set her shoulders back. “I was talking with Ryder.”
“Now I’m worried.”
She whacked his shoulder playfully. “I’m thinking I’ll get my scars removed.”
Hunt stilled, his gaze on her face.
“I know they aren’t that bad, and you’ve helped me accept them, but he put them there. They’re a reminder of him, and he’s not a part of my life anymore.”
“Whatever you want, baby, I’ll support you. Leave them, get them removed, I’ll love you either way.”
“I love you, Detective Morgan. Boy, am I glad that I played my music too loud.”
Hunt smiled. “Me too, baby.”
He pulled that delectable mouth to his. As he kissed her, the world fell away and it was just the two of them. And the bright future they had ahead of them.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was probably Cam telling Hunt that he was close to arriving, but when Savannah climbed around to straddle him and kissed him harder and with great enthusiasm, all he could do was hold on and groan.
“Savannah.” He managed to break the kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “I know.” She purposely shifted on his erection, tearing another groan from him.
Over her shoulder, he saw a X6 pull up at the park.
He looked back at her beautiful face, the wind playing with some of her curls. He clamped a hand on her hip. “That’s not it, and that can’t be a surprise, since you just breathing seems to make me hard.”
She rubbed her nose against his. “I hope that when we’re both old, and gray, and our wrinkles have wrinkles, you still have that problem.”
He pinched her butt and urged her to stand. He stood and took a second to readjust himself. Hopefully he could get himself under control in the next few minutes.
He watched Cam circle the X6. He helped an older, blonde lady out of the passenger seat. The back door opened, and a tall, handsome, twenty-something man got out. The breeze tousled his dirty-blond curls. He scanned the park. A woman Savannah’s age exited last—tall, slender, with inky-black hair. She nudged the young man, searching the park as well.
Hunt turned to Savannah. “Here’s your surprise.”
Frowning, she turned, and took a second. Then she noticed the trio. Her body went stiff as a board. “Oh, my God.”
He slid a comforting hand down her arm. “I know you’ve talked with them, but they wanted to see you. And I think you needed to see them.”
She swallowed and looked up at him, her pretty, gray eyes shining.
“Go,” he urged her.
She walked toward the approaching group, then she was running.
Savannah and her mother collided first. Savannah was laughing and crying. Her mother kept touching Savannah like she was reassuring herself that her daughter was real.
Ezra claimed Savannah next. The young man wasn’t crying, but his face was filled with emotion.
Then Saskia Hawke leaped on Savannah. The women hugged, cried, and laughed. The sound of their happy laughter rang through the park.
Camden reached Hunt, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Nice work, bro.”
Hunt lifted his chin. “She needed it. Needed to reconnect with them. She was just afraid to close the gap.”
Cam nodded. “The gap can feel like a chasm sometimes.”
Hunt looked at his brother.
“I’m fine. My chasm lasted about an hour. You, Ryder, and Mom just leaped across it when I got back. It didn’t feel like that for long. So, thanks for being there.”
Hunt clasped Cam’s shoulder. “We’re always here for you.”
Savannah, holding her mom’s hand, led the group over.
“You’ve met Camden, but I really want you to meet my detective.” She smiled at Hunt.
Mrs. Hart met his gaze and nodded. “Thank you, Detective Morgan. For bringing her back to us and making her safe.”
“It’s Hunt.” He slung an arm around Savannah’s shoulders, and she leaned into him.
Mrs. Hart watched them, her eyes filling with happy tears.
Ezra nodded and shook Hunt’s hand. Hunt shook Saskia’s slim hand last.
“Your brother was a big help,” Hunt told her.
“He always is.” Saskia smiled. “He has his finger on the pulse of, well, everything.” She looked at Savannah. “Nice.” She tilted her head toward Hunt. “The men here in San Francisco…” Saskia fanned herself.
Savannah smiled. “There are more of them, but most of them are taken.” Savannah shot a sly look at Camden. “Except for Hunt’s brothers.”
Cam dragged in a breath and looked resigned.
Savannah laughed. “I’ve missed years of teasing my brother, so I have lots to catch up on.”
Ezra and Cam shared a look.
As Savannah laughed again, sounding carefree and happy, Hunt pressed a kiss to her temple.
All was right in his pocket of the world.
Chapter Twenty
“Oh, boy.”
Savannah brushed past Hunt, grabbed his glass of Blanton Gold, and chugged it.
“Easy, baby.” He stroked her back, trying to ease her nerves. He enjoyed that her sexy, red cocktail dress left most of her back bare.
She huffed out a breath.
“Just relax,” he said.
“You relax.” She dragged in a breath. “Sorry, I’m just really, really nervous.”
He cupped her cheek, careful not to wreck her makeup. “It’s your first art showing in years. You’re entitled to some nerves.” He lowered his voice. “Have I told you how much I like your dress?”
Her gray gaze met his and she smiled. “No, but you gave it away when I set it out on the bed and you took one look, then dragged me down on the floor and made love to me.”
He smiled. “I like the dress, and I like the way you wear it even more.”
She touched her silky hair. Over the last few weeks, she’d let it return to her more natural silvery blonde. Right now, it was up in a sleek roll.
She snagged a flute of champagne from a passing server and sipped. “There are so many people.”
There were. They were in a wing of the Hutton Museum. Over the last few weeks, Haven had worked her butt off, pulling the showing together. Savannah had worked her butt off, too, creating new paintings and sculptures for the show. Haven had also had several of Savannah’s sketches framed and displayed.
Thankfully, none were of him naked.
He’d turned his guest room on the top floor beside his master bedroom into an art studio for her. She loved it. She spent hours in there, her music pumping. She’d also hired Ella-Mae, who did jobs for Savannah—replenishing art supplies, packing up artwork, helping to keep the studio clean.
The teenager had fully recovered from her ordeal. Her parents had gotten her to see a therapist, and that had helped him convince Savannah to talk to someone, too.
Each day, she was lighter. Trusting her new life more and more, and leaving Andrew Walkson behind. The man had been sentenced, and was up on new charges for the additional women he’d murdered in Kansas, Colorado, and Florida. He would never see the light of day as a free man.