by Emma Lea
Georgie bit the corner of her lip, trying hard not to mess up the lipstick and get it all over her teeth, because that is something that would definitely happen to her, before nodding.
“Okay, one drink.”
“And one dance,” Millie reminded her.
“Fine. One drink and one dance.”
“Whoo hoo!” they both chorused as they dragged Georgie up the stairs and into the pub.
It was dark inside and smoky and the music was so loud that the bass line made her chest vibrate. The coloured lights pulsed and the crush of people was a little claustrophobic. All of it combined made her want to head for the nearest exit, but her two so-called friends had a strong grip on her arms and she had no hope of escape. If someone had asked her what her idea of hell was, she was pretty sure that this would be it. This exact thing. And yet here she was, voluntarily entering the lion’s den.
The girls pulled her through the crowd and up to the bar where Millie ordered them three shots of tequila.
“So this is my one drink, right?” Georgie yelled over the noise.
“God, no,” Millie replied, “This is just the warm up. Shots don't count.”
Kendra showed her how to lick, sip and suck and she tossed the shot back with a grimace, thankful for the lime to suck on to remove the vile taste from her mouth.
“That was awful!” she said, but no one was listening to her. Millie was ordering a pitcher of margaritas and Kendra was looking for a table.
“Look! Over here!” Kendra yelled and then started dragging her through the crush.
Georgie fell gratefully into the newly vacated seat as Millie put the pitcher in the middle of the table along with three glasses rimmed with salt. Kendra splashed the icy cold liquid into each glass and then lifted hers for a toast.
“Here’s to finding Georgie a social life!”
“Hey!” Georgie protested.
They clinked glasses and drank. The fresh, crisp citrus taste with a hit of salt buzzed over Georgie’s tongue and she licked her lips in bliss.
“Wow,” she said, “I really like that.”
“Then drink up, girlfriend!” Millie said, topping up her glass.
Georgie took another big gulp, giving herself a brain freeze which made her whine and giggle at the same time. Her knees felt fizzy, like the blood was bubbling through her veins and her body felt warm. She knew her cheeks must have been flushed, but she didn't care. Her mind was loose and she felt giddy, not in a bad way, but in a ‘let’s party’ kind of way.
How long had it been since she’d let her hair down - figuratively and literally? Moving to Oxley Crossing, setting up her shop, and getting Book Club off the ground seemed to swallow all her time. She loved what she did, she loved her shop and Book Club and her little apartment, but they were all time sucks and she was left feeling like she was always busy but with little to show for it. She had never been very much of a party girl, but before coming here she’d at least had a social life, hadn't she?
“Finish your drink,” Millie said as she filled Georgie’s glass once more, “And then we’ll hit the dance floor.”
Georgie drank her margarita down, swallowing the whole thing and then she jumped to her feet, swaying a little bit on the unfamiliar stilettos.
“Let’s dance!” she cried, shooting both hands in the air like a prize fighter. The girls yahoo-ed as they followed her through the crowd to the small patch of floor that was designated for dancing. Georgie shook her hips and shimmied to the beat and wondered why she hadn't done this sooner.
The first thing he noticed was that she couldn't dance… but she was enthusiastic. He couldn't put his finger on just what was wrong with what she was doing except that it looked wrong, awkward, and a little off beat.
The second thing he noticed was her golden hair that shimmied under the lights as she shook her booty, a booty that was barely covered. Then his eyes dropped to her legs. She wasn't tall, but she had a mile of bare leg on display and he couldn't help but appreciate them as she moved to her own music, which seemed to be nothing like the music playing through the speakers.
When she turned around it took Connor a moment to place her. She looked familiar and she was pretty darn gorgeous, so it was unusual for him to not remember her. It was her eyes in the end that got him and when he recognised Georgie he nearly choked on his beer. That was not the same woman who had been sitting in his Gran’s sitting room only a couple of days ago. Who else could it be unless she had a twin?
He watched her with her friends, a smile on his face. She might not be able to dance, but she was having a hell of a time anyway. So much so that her unfettered joy was contagious and she had nearly every guy’s eye in the bar on her. His grip tightened around the neck of his beer bottle as he watched the other men on the dance floor ogle her. One even had the audacity to sidle up to her and start dancing with her. She seemed a little flummoxed at his attentions, but she didn't push him away and a knot formed in his gut.
Before he knew what he was doing, he'd put down his empty bottle and was heading towards the dance floor, Georgie in his sights. He moved in close behind her and moved the gold sheet of her hair to the side so he could talk in her ear.
“Hey kitten,” he said.
She jumped and then looked over her shoulder at him, her face spreading into a big grin when she saw him.
“Connor!” she said loudly over the music and threw her arms around his neck.
It was at that point that he realised she was drunk because there was no way sober Georgie would do something so forward. She was usually so discombobulated by him that she was a mess of nerves and awkwardness.
“Hey Georgie,” he said, resting his hands on her hips and trying to get her to follow the rhythm of the music. He wasn't Fred Astaire, but he knew how to hold his own on the dance floor, at least a bit better than her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he had managed to wrangle her into some semblance of dancing.
“My home girls dragged me here,” she drawled indicating Kendra from the Book Club and Millie from Bookish who had found partners of their own.
“You been drinking?”
She held her index finger and her thumb an inch or so apart and said, “Little bit.”
Unless she was a super lightweight, he imagined that it was quite a bit more than a little bit.
“How about we get you something to eat?”
He tried to lead her off the dance floor but she held her ground and pouted at him.
“I wanna dance,” she said, her big blue eyes pleading with him.
He sighed and stepped back into her embrace.
“Okay,” he said, “One more song but you have to promise me we’ll get something to eat afterwards.”
“‘kay,” she said, winding her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest.
He let his arms curl around her and held her close, breathing in the fruity scent of her hair. Because of her heels she fit under his chin so he could rest in on top of her head. He couldn't deny that they felt good together, like their bodies fit. Thankfully the song was a slow one and while he had her in his arms he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the feel of her pressed against him. He didn't think this would be a repeated opportunity, not with her nervousness around him. Again he wondered if it was just him or whether it was all men.
“You smell nice,” she breathed against him and he had to smile.
“So do you, kitten,” he replied.
She tipped her glazed eyes up to him, a puzzled expression on her face.
“It's Georgie,” she said, “I'm Georgie.”
“I know, kitten.”
“So why do you keep calling me kitten?”
“Remember the other day when I was in your shop and I said you were cute?”
Her brow furrowed as thought and then nodded slowly.
“Do you remember what you said to me?”
“I told you cute was something you called a kitten.”
“You still think I'm cute?”
“I think you're adorable.”
“Even with my Vamp Red lipstick?”
“Even with your lipstick.”
She pouted then and he wanted to dip his head and kiss those Vamp Red lips.
“I was kind of going for bombshell, not cute,” she said, “I guess I can't even do that right.”
“Oh honey,” he said, holding her tighter, “You are definitely a bombshell tonight, although I think I prefer my cute kitten Georgie.”
She bit her lip and he bit back a groan. “Yeah?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered as the song ended. He took a breath and stepped back, loathe to let her go but knowing she needed to eat to soak up some of that alcohol in her system. “Hungry?”
“Starved,” she replied.
He started to lead her through the crowd, but she pulled him in another direction.
“We have a table over here,” she said in explanation.
He let her lead and then seated himself beside her, close enough that she dropped her head on his shoulder.
“I'm tired,” she said, her eyes drooping.
“Eat first and then you can sleep.”
“‘kay,” she said and snuggled against him.
He grit his teeth against the need to pull her on his lap and hold her as she fell asleep in his arms. He needed to get some food and lots and lots of water into her. He reminded himself over and over again that she wasn’t his type and that he wasn’t attracted to her even as she seemed to burrow into him just like a kitten might. He lifted his free hand to snag a waitress and ordered all the greasy food he could and a pitcher of ice water.
5
Georgie woke up wondering what on earth had happened the night before. She still wore the clothes she went out in, her hair was a tangled mess and her eyes felt like they were stuck together with glue. Plus there was the pounding headache and the urge to expel all the contents of her stomach. She ran for the bathroom and did just that, wondering if she was dying and whether she should call the ambulance.
Fortunately, with her stomach now empty, she felt marginally better. She pulled herself up and stripped before stepping into the shower and letting the hot water do its thing. There was something very magical and restorative about hot showers and Georgie gave thanks to the universe for their invention.
When the water began to cool, she turned off the taps and dragged herself out of the shower, wrapping her wet hair in a fluffy towel and pulling on her terry cloth robe, feeling slightly more human but grateful that it was Sunday and her shop was closed. She padded back into her bedroom and spied a glass of water on her nightstand with two pills and a note.
Sitting on the edge of her bed she read the note:
Take these and make sure you drink the whole glass of water - C
Had she slipped down the rabbit hole and found herself in wonderland? And who was ‘C’?
She examined the pills and determined they were ibuprofen, so she took them as suggested and swallowed the whole glass of water. Her stomach growled, reminding her that it was now empty, so she shuffled out to her tiny kitchen, trying not to disturb her pounding head too much.
Another note was waiting for her on the sink.
Drink another glass of water before you have your coffee - C
Feeling a little weird to be following the advice of a mysterious note maker, she drank another glass of water while she waited for the kettle to boil. She didn't drink instant coffee or percolated coffee, so she made herself a cup of tea instead. Turning to the fridge for some milk she saw yet another note.
Greasy food will make you feel better. Eggs, bacon, hash brown, mushrooms… if you’re up to it, meet me at The Cow and Anchor at 8am for a full English breakfast - C
Angie looked at the time. It was a quarter to eight, if she rushed, she could make it to the English pub by a little after eight. But did she want to? Did she even know a ‘C’ and if she did, did she want to see him or her again? How much of a fool had she made of herself last night? She had obviously been drunk enough to let this ‘C’ person bring her home and allow them into her apartment. Nothing untoward had happened, but it could have, which scared her a bit. Was she so drunk that she went home with a perfect stranger?
She sat down at her kitchen bench with her tea and tried to remember what happened. She remembered walking into the pub, she remembered drinking a shot and then margaritas and she remembered dancing. The rest was a bit fuzzy, but somewhere in the mix, she remembered Connor. She dropped her head to the table and banged it once and winced as her head pounded with the action. Serves her right for being so irresponsible. Had she really danced with Connor? Had she really thrown her arms around him and rested her cheek on his hard chest? Was he the mysterious ‘C’ that had brought her home and left her all these cute little notes?
There was only one way to find out. She drank the rest of her tea, scolding her mouth in the process and then raced to dress. She brushed her teeth and piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun that wasn't too tight in respect for her still tender head. She grabbed her bag and her keys and headed out the door, feeling a bounce in her step despite the hangover. The bright sun pierced her eyes and she fumbled in her bag for her sunglasses, then slid into her car and pointed it in the direction of the Cow and Anchor.
Connor sat in the booth of the dimly lit English pub and wondered if Georgie was even awake yet. Maybe he should have said nine? But then if he did that, by the time they ate it would be too late for the rest of what he planned for the day. He only hoped Georgie was up for it.
The big door of the pub opened and he looked up, but it wasn't her. He checked his watch, it was only just after eight, so they still had plenty of time, but he felt irrationally nervous. She might not even come. She might have been so freaked out by finding those notes that she’d think he was a stalker. Or she might not have seen his notes at all, she could very well still be asleep and he would be left sitting here like an idiot.
“Hey.”
He looked up and grinned. She came. He was flushed with pleasure at seeing her, although she did look a bit worse for wear. Her eyes were red rimmed and dark smudges sat underneath them. She wore no makeup today and all that glorious golden hair was still wet from her shower and pulled up in some sort of mess on top of her head. She was back in her jean shorts and t-shirt, which said ‘You read my t-shirt, that’s enough socialising for the day’.
“Hey yourself,” he said as she slid into the booth and put her head on the table.
“Just how much of a fool did I make of myself last night?” she mumbled, not lifting her head.
“Well, there was the dancing on the table bit—” she groaned and mumbled something unintelligible, “—then there was the buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub—” another groan, although it could have been a whimper, “and then last but not least, your karaoke performance.”
This last statement made her raise her head and look at him with mouth agape and eyes wide.
“Please tell me that's a joke,” she pleaded, and he laughed.
“Had you worried, didn't I?”
“Cruel,” she mumbled putting her head back down on the table, “You, sir, are a cruel, cruel man.”
He laughed again, inordinately pleased with himself and with her company.
“It's okay Georgie, none of it is true and you didn't make a fool of yourself in the slightest, although I must say, drunk Georgie is far less clumsy around me than sober Georgie.”
She groaned something that sounded like ‘I hate you’ but he just smiled. She was fun to tease.
A waitress approached and he ordered for both of them. After she left, Georgie raised her head.
“There's no way I can eat all of that,” she said.
He shrugged, “Eat what you can, you're going to need it for what I have planned for today.”
She sat back in her seat
and looked at him sceptically.
“I have plans for today,” she said.
“Not anymore you don't.”
“I can't just drop everything because you want me to.”
“I know what your plans were, Georgie, you told me last night. You had a big day planned of doing laundry and finishing off the book you're reading and then you were going to tackle the fun task of sorting out your lost sock basket to try and find mates for all your single socks.”
He watched as her cheeks pinked and her eyes dropped to the table.
“Have breakfast with me and then give me two hours of your day and I promise that if you really hate it, I will bring you straight home.”
“That's what Kendra and Millie said to me last night and look how that ended up.”
“I quite like how it ended up,” he said.
The waitress returned with their food and Georgie continued to stare at him across the table while he waited for her reply. He was nervous that she would turn him down, something he hadn't felt in a while.
She huffed out a resigned sigh and picked up her knife and fork, cutting into her bacon with gusto. “Okay, fine,” she said, stuffing the bacon in her mouth, “I’ll go with you, but I refuse to get changed so this will have to do.”
He grinned as he attended to his own breakfast. “I would never ask you to change,” he said and he knew it to the tips of his toes to be the truth. Seeing her all glammed up last night had been a surprise and he'd liked the view, but he preferred Georgie in her natural state. She was perfect just as she was.
Georgie couldn't believe that she had agreed to go with Connor on this mystery adventure. Just the thought of the outdoors gave her hives and it wasn't because she was some prima donna. She was just so clumsy and bad things could happen to clumsy people in the outdoors. And there were bears. Okay, there weren't any bears in Australia, but there were other things that were dangerous. Wasn't there a meme somewhere about everything in Australia trying to kill you? It wasn't far from the truth as far as she was concerned.
