The Temptation of Savannah O'Neill. Molly O'Keefe

Savannah actually smiled. “Is that another word for pain in the butt?”

      “I was thinking precocious.”

      Savannah nodded, calm and cool as if it wasn’t a million degrees outside and suddenly Matt felt every drop of sweat on his body. “Everything okay?” she asked. “You…ah…finding stuff?”

      He looked down at the ancient sledgehammer and even older hand tools that he’d found in the shed. An upgrade would be needed if he was going to get this courtyard done with the skin of his hands intact.

      “Sure,” he said. “But I think tomorrow I’ll go into town and get some supplies.”

      “You’ll need money?”

      He shook his head, guilt eating away at him. He was lying, and now he was taking their money. “Margot gave me a deposit.” Not that he would ever cash the check.

      She paused, standing there as if there was something more she wanted to say. It made him nervous, the way she simply stood, watching him, as though she saw right through his bad smoke screen. As though she knew why he was here.

      And frankly, he was dying to ask about Vanessa. The questions were beating against his teeth, but it was too soon. Savannah was so suspicious already, and there was no way he could bring the subject of her mother up and make it seem natural. He needed to bide his time, wait for his moment.

      “What’s your plan out here?” she asked.

      “Well, I’m going to start on the stone wall next.” He wiped his forehead and pointed over to the corner where the wall had crumbled.

      “You’re bleeding.”

      He glanced down at his arms and found a hundred little cuts and slices that he hadn’t even felt until this moment. “It’s fine. Glass.”

      Savannah looked as if she were going to argue, but then she nodded.

      The silence was thick. Uncomfortable. The tension more dense than the humid air.

      “There’s nothing to steal here, you know that, right?” she asked and he nearly dropped the shovel.

      “I’m sorry?”

      “If you’re thinking about robbing us, I’m just letting you know, in case you missed it, there’s nothing worth stealing. Hasn’t been for years.”

      There was something very sad behind her eyes, behind her words and he tried to resist it. “You always this forthright?”

      “Saves time,” she said, shrugging, and stepped over to the rock slide that made up the closest corner of the wall. She kicked at a small stone, sending it clattering across its larger brethren.

      “I’m not here to rob you,” he assured her. Forthright, sure. And suspicious as all get-out.

      “Then why are you here?” she asked, watching him through her thick fall of hair. Straight as glass that hair, like a curtain, and he got the distinct impression that she spent a lot of time watching people from behind it.

      “I thought we already covered this,” he asked, not wanting to go back over his lies. Not wanting to talk to her at all, actually. It made him feel slimy, less righteous and more like a liar. He didn’t need that.

      “Right.” She nodded and climbed up on another rock and turned to face him. Her daughter had done the exact same thing a few hours ago. This was a new side to Savannah, something he didn’t expect. Something playful. Young. “You’re a good Samaritan here to help Louisiana one crumbling courtyard at a time.”

      Her wit matched her sharp beauty and he liked that. Liked that more and more about her, but wondered what softness, what sadness that sharp wit protected. “Something like that. You want to help me move some of those rocks?”

      She shook her head, climbed up higher. “It’s what we’re paying you the big bucks for. You know, people leave their homes because they’re running from something.”

      Matt’s sweat dried up and went cold. “I assume you’re talking about me?”