She's the One (Lowcountry Lovers Series Book 2) by Kim Boykin Read Free Book Online

dozen bikes—along with Melissa and Savannah’s—were crushed under the Mercedes. The model gunned the car but it wouldn’t go. Finally, Shane went over and took her keys away. She got out of the car, screaming at him, her surgically-enhanced chest heaving. She snatched her keys back just as Shane slung her over his shoulder and put her in his truck.
    Melissa kept playing, maybe to shut out the crazy in the parking lot or the fact that Bo was still musically shagging her. Bo held her face again and sang the last verse of the song. He was sexy as hell, and gorgeous, yet, Melissa couldn’t stop pretending she was playing to the crowd while she was really watching Shane drive away.
    When the song ended, Bo tried to keep her on stage, but she begged off and sat down at the table with Savannah, who handed her the drink bartender had sent over for a job well done.
    “My God, you were amazing,” Savannah said. “And Bo is so hot, and hot for you.”
    Melissa shrugged, “It’s just the music.”
    “I don’t think so. Did you see the way he looked at you? How could you not?”
    “You mean the same way Jack’s looking at you now?”
    Savannah had her back to him. He was leaning against the bar, drop dead gorgeous in board shorts and a t-shirt that was strangely similar to Savannah’s. Her face was flushed, not like it was yesterday when she was demanding he vacate the island. Melissa wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the pull between them that even she felt. She could feel Jack Johns wanting Savannah from all the way across the lawn, and by the look on her face, she felt it too.
    “Talk to him, Savannah.” Melissa would need special protective glasses if those two got within ten feet of each other. “You obviously have feelings for him, and he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have feelings for you.”
    “It’s an oyster roast and a free country last time I checked.”
    “I—I told him you’d be here.”
    Savannah’s chin quivered for a moment and tipped up stubbornly. Then he was standing beside her, and the energy that passed between them looked like the finale of a Fourth of July extravaganza. Whatever had happened to them in the past, it didn’t matter. They were definitely soul mates.
    “Savannah.” He spoke but she turned away from him. “You still look good in my shirt.”

Chapter Five

    “G ive me your phone,” Shane ordered.
    Cassie threw it at him. He pulled off the road and looked at the recent call log.
    “Is this him?” He pointed to the last number she’d dialed.
    “Take me home, Shane. Please. ” Her fingers made a trail up his thigh and he put her hand back in her lap.
    “He live on the island?”
    “Go to hell, Shane.”
    Shane didn’t have time for this. He knew it looked bad when he hauled Cassie off, as bad as Melissa playing with that guy. He stabbed at the number and waited for the call to connect.
    “What?” The guy snapped.
    “Cassie screwed up. She’s sorry for whatever she did.”
    “I am not,” she hissed.
    “Who the hell are you?” the guy asked.
    “I’m an old friend of hers. I met you at Morgan Creek.” And he needed to get back to the damn oyster roast. Now. “Look, she’s in no shape to drive, and she messed up her car. Can I drop her off at your place?”
    “She’s your problem now,” the guy said and hung up.
    Shane raked his hand over his face and handed her phone back. “Where do you live?” He pulled back onto the road, headed up Palm Boulevard.
    “I’m renting a place on 182 East Bay Street, in the French Quarter.” She turned on her sultry smile and shifted in her seat until she was facing him, her skirt pushed up to the tops of her gorgeous thighs. “I’ve missed you, Shane, but not your country music.” She turned the CD off.
    The lone stop light on the island was red, he could hang a left and head toward the little area called Front Beach that had some trinket shops, a few restaurants and a hotel, or he could drive a half hour