by Jamie Magee
Right when she went to tell Memphis goodbye, a phone call came for him, so she was stuck waiting for him to finish it.
She lingered near the pool table. Unable to stand still because of her nerves, she started to rack the balls up. Right when she was adjusting them she felt gravity wave over her and glanced over her shoulder to see Easton leaning against the table beside her.
“Hi,” he breathed.
She only nodded once.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re haunting me,” he whispered.
She pretended that it was important for all the balls to be turned the right way just so her eyes would not meet his. Just so he would not know that it was him that was haunting her. He was every reason she wanted to stay in Willowhaven, and every reason she wanted to run from it.
“Sorry to hear that, Mr. Ballantine.”
She heard him breathe a smile and dared to lift her gaze. He was only a few inches away. This was dangerous. Anyone with any sense would be able to see the sexual tension between them, and if Memphis’s hall backed up players, she wasn’t so sure how much respect she could have for any of them.
“I want to take you out, like a real dinner. Not a pub or wedding,” Easton said.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t take me to the pub, or to the wedding,” she managed to say without a hitch in her voice.
He pressed his lips together as his gaze dipped to her lips. “Can I take you to dinner Friday?”
“Pretty big day planned on Friday, not sure.” She was waiting for him to ask about the next night or the one before, but he only looked away.
“What do you want out of that dinner? To scratch an itch just so it will go away?”
He stood from his lean, moved closer, and dipped his head to where his breath would rain down on her neck. “If that was all I wanted, the itch would already be scratched, twice over. Dinner. Yes or no?”
Before she could answer, she had to catch her breath. She had to shut down the images of scratching said itch that were rushing through her mind.
Right as she opened her mouth, a horrible screeching noise echoed against every wall. A white flashing light blinked on and off, and he vanished from her side. Everyone in the hall moved at the speed of light. Memphis only had a chance to blow her a kiss from across the room before he rushed to the truck. Before she managed to walk the few steps between her and the next room, where the engines were, every one of them was dressed and on the trucks. Pulling out with lights flashing and sirens blaring.
Easton caught her stare as he pulled out. She should have nodded or shook her head no, but she was too star stuck seeing him in turn out gear to do anything but stand as still as a statue.
She’d always respected her brother’s profession, hands down, but this entire ordeal had left in her awe. How efficient they were and how everything was dropped without a single thought. How not one second was wasted and how each of them rushed to the call of someone in need.
She moved closer to the radio and listened for a few minutes, wondering where they were going. A few minutes turned into thirty, and she didn’t really breathe normal until she heard the all clear and gathered that they were on their way back.
She should have stayed, faced Easton, given him her answer—but she left. The runner in her, right alongside with the girl that didn’t want her heart broken any more than it already was, demanded that she did so.
Chapter Ten
Friday. That was the day a loan was going to be attached to her name. Or so said Henry when he called Georgia right as she left the fire hall.
For a few long minutes she sat in her brother’s truck at the park, watching Cynthia and Grace in the distance as she took in long deep breaths.
I can do this, she thought. I can at least try to live here.
The second the thought took root she grabbed her bags and power walked across the park.
When Grace saw Georgia, she struggled to get out of her stroller so she could get to her. Georgia unbuckled her and pulled her in for a hug. The thought crossed her mind that that was rude and crazy. She glanced up at Cynthia and gave her a guilty smile. “Sorry. I guess I have been looking at so many images of her, I feel like I know her. Didn’t mean to grab your granddaughter like a mad woman.” Like she’s the hope I need right now.
Georgia shifted Grace to her hip as if she had done so a thousand times. She reached in her bag, pulled out her laptop, set it on the table, and booted it up. “I have so many images—I just need you to click on the ones you want and we can go from there.”
Cynthia was grinning from ear to ear as she sat down at the picnic table. Only a few images in, she saw Grace slide down Georgia then pull her hand.
“She loves to swing. I’m sure that’s what she’s saying. Do you mind?” Cynthia asked, with a nod to the swings.
A week ago, leaving Georgia’s laptop with a lady she had only met a few times, no matter how sweet or older they might be, would have been a hell no, but Cynthia was trusting her with her granddaughter, so there was an odd balance there.
The night had fallen once again before Cynthia had to leave. Grace was asleep in Georgia’s arms. All afternoon, they had played on the playground while Cynthia narrowed down the shots she wanted and what sizes.
Georgia told her she could have them all printed and ready for her on Friday. She even found herself inviting Cynthia over to Memphis’s that afternoon when Cynthia told her it was supposed to pour down rain on Friday.
***
No matter how innocent the lie may be, Georgia was not a fan of speaking them, so she squirmed a bit in her seat when Memphis asked her to go out of town with him on Friday and Saturday. Apparently, he had some kind of training exercise he had to do and couldn’t push it back and didn’t want to lose time with her.
She told him she had plans to meet with a client on Friday, which was the truth. She also told him she would stay longer if that would make him feel less guilty, which was the truth, too. She just failed to tell him about the house or that she may or may not have a date with Easton on that night.
Friday, closing on the house, the entire morning went by like a dream—a nightmare, rather. With her moving from one anxiety attack to another, it took her four tries and forty-five minutes to finally figure out how to sign her name. Bottom line, she may have to work her ass off for a hot minute just to get her nest egg right back where she wanted it, but at the end of the day this was an investment. As long as she saw it as a way to build her future and not a ball and chain, she could handle it.
When she met Grace and Cynthia later that day, she relaxed a bit, which gave her the courage to go and visit her ‘investment.’
It had poured down rain all day, like a monsoon, with constant sheets falling. The first time she stepped into the only thing she had ever owned, she was drenched from head to toe. Her bare feet made patterns of water across her path as she looked, really looked, at every detail.
“I’m home, Daddy,” she whispered into the house.
The rain made it seem priceless. It brought out a romantic vibe. There was a pain in her heart, one which took her a long moment to understand, and that understanding made her realize why she had waited so long to do something like this.
This. This was a moment you didn’t want to experience on your own; you wanted to celebrate this moment with someone you loved, someone you wanted to build a life with, at least she did.
Her phone in her back pocket made her jolt forward as if someone had screamed her name. Her stomach twisted and heat filled her cheeks. Here she was daydreaming about some future, knowing her mind was inserting a taken man in those scenes, and her phone rings. Not knowing what to hope for, she looked down at the Caller ID.
It was Memphis, calling to check on her, not Easton asking if he could take her out tonight. Yep, build your own life, girl, she thought as she prepared her most at ease phone voice for her brother, just like she always had.
Lying in bed that night, she felt t
he heavy weight of rejection and a fresh heartbreak as Easton danced through her mind like he did each night she fell asleep.
Once again, she knew it was just as much her fault. She was a bitch to him, but then again sometimes a girl wanted to be chased; if he chased her, then swallowing the ‘other woman’ element wouldn’t be as hard, or so she assumed.
To get over those dark thoughts her mind shifted to her house. She needed to figure out what to do, if she was going to go back up north in a few weeks, let it sit empty, or stay a little while. The way she figured it, she had until Memphis made it back in town on Sunday morning to figure that out because sure enough, if she did not have her mind made up by then he would convince her to stay. She wanted it to be her choice.
The next day Georgia quickly figured out that not only did you have to pay for electricity, you also had to call people and have them turn it on for you, which didn’t cross her mind until night had nearly fallen.
She was too excited about camping out to back out at this point, so she went to the store and bought as many candles as she could find, a can of soup, and a pot to cook her dinner. She’d spent the day buying paint and had already started to paint the master bathroom and wanted to finish her project.
She lit the candles, a few in each room, some going down her path in the main hall, and more than a few in the bathroom where she was working. Then went to warm up her soup on the gas stove that her soon-to-be rumbling tummy would be thankful for.
Georgia was in her zone, painting the trim in the bathroom, swaying with music she had blaring in her ears, when she thought she smelled something, something horrible; a second later, alarms started going off, loud enough for her to hear over her earbuds. In a panic, she took off in a sprint, sure that she was about to burn down her investment.
Her soup was gone, burnt to the pan, and the kitchen was filled with smoke. She tossed the pan into the sink, burning her hand, even though she gripped it with her shirt, then she opened every window and door she could reach. She was waving the air out the door right when she heard the fire engines screeching in her direction. Son of a bitch, she breathed.
***
Easton and his crew were dressed and in their trucks, chasing the call that just came in within record sharp time.
“Ah, fuck, man we’re going to your house,” Truman said to Easton as he turned the rig.
Easton’s heart froze and every part of him tensed as his wide eyes landed on Truman. Surely, he would not B.S. him about something like that.
Truman looked up from the radio. “My bad, my bad. I meant your dream house. Should be able to get it for a steal now,” Truman said with a deep chuckle.
Easton was breathing again. The panic had left him, but he wasn’t thrilled the historic frame house on New Beginnings Lane was on fire. In fact it made him sick.
That house meant more to him than he could ever explain.
When he was in middle school, he’d edged more to the dark side of his thoughts, rebelled a bit. All the men in his life that were trying to help his mom out with controlling him came forward. Beckett had him mucking out stalls, baling hay, riding, and tending to bulls. All that did was build Easton’s aggression, made him develop a body to match his attitude.
Lucas had a different plan—cars, working on them. At least three days a week Easton’s mom would drop him off at Lucas’s and they would work on something. The thing about doing so was that in most cases it was a silent process, you were concentrating, building something. Learning something, learning that one thing had to happen before another, and when everything was where it was meant to be you had raw power at your fingertips.
After dinner, Lucas would always walk Easton through town, down to the ice cream parlor. And each time, Lucas would move down a side street that was out of their way and stare up at that house.
“What’s with this house?” Easton asked one time.
Lucas smiled slowly. “I like it. It has character.”
“Yours is better, bigger garage,” Easton said not getting why anyone, especially Lucas, would stare at house like that, nothing could be more boring.
“Maybe so, but that house right there, it’s built for a princess. Built for family.”
“You thinking of moving?”
Lucas smirked, “My princess is all grown up, Easton, or at least on her way. Past the point of tree houses and hide and seek.” He put his arm across Easton’s shoulders as they started to walk away. “Look here, Easton, never believe your own bullshit, especially when you say ‘one day…’ You gotta go with your gut, it tells you what’s right and wrong.” He reached to mess up Easton’s hair. “So I don’t want to hear any more business about you acting out, you know what feels wrong—that means don’t do it.”
Easton let out a deep breath, half the time he didn’t even know what he was doing to cause anyone to worry about him.
Lucas laughed. “Well, son, at least think before you do stupid shit. You can push your luck all day long, but it will only take you so far in the wrong direction before it slaps you across the face with a nice fat reality check.”
Last year, when Easton thought to buy a house for the first time, New Beginning Lane came to mind; actually it was the only one that he wanted to consider. He just needed to get a few more things in line first, make sure his life was on the level before he took on that risk, took on that work load, and now look, he didn’t go with his gut like Lucas had always told him to do and it was on fire.
Maybe it was a false alarm. He knew it wasn’t, though, because most good things in his life had burned down—no, take that back; all mistakes and all almost mistakes burned down. Yeah, he was still furious that Georgia didn’t even try to call him about their date.
He almost asked Memphis for her number a thousand times over. Games, he didn’t have time for those because—“Mercy.” The word left his lips like a curse.
Standing in the doorway of his dream house in some brief shorts and a tank, waving smoke out of the house was Georgia Armstrong.
He was out of the truck before it ever slowed down. Most of the guys followed suit. Memphis was out of town, and if they let something happen to his kid sister they were dead men.
Of course, Easton is on shift, Georgia thought. Perfect. She’d bet her brother had already been called. So much for feeling this out, for camping out in her secret for a least one night, for being a big girl, making big girl decisions.
“It’s fine,” she said to Easton. “I burned soup. The alarm just went off. I didn’t call you.”
No, you didn’t, he thought as he saw her standing there with candlelight cascading over her body, her thin tank, and what some might call shorts. He wanted to put his coat over her, tell the guys to look away, but he would for sure look like an ass if he did. She was clenching her hand—he took her hand in his only to see a broad red welt across her palm. Before he could see how bad it was, she jerked it away, putting it behind her back, wincing as she did so.
“Can we look around?” the chief asked, pushing in past Easton.
Georgia nodded, already listening for her cell phone, for her brother’s call. She was humiliated, absolutely humiliated.
“Why are you here?” Easton asked her, looking at her like she was as crazy as she felt.
“I bought it, but, but it’s my secret. I wanted to…” She cursed. “I wanted to just spend one night, paint a room or two before I told Memphis, feel it out so, so that—”
“So that if you wanted to run, you could,” Easton finished for her with a sharp bite in his tone.
“Yeah, because I’m a runner,” she said with a glower.
Truman called Easton over to him, giving Georgia a reason to rush back to her room and pull on her jeans and shoes.
Truman had pulled Easton through the house, pointing out various points, gas lines, new and old hard wiring. Neither of them was thrilled with that many candles lit. Basically, everything about the house had them bothered.
“She said she jus
t bought it, was testing it out before she told Memphis,” Easton said to Truman and a few other guys that were gathering.
“I’m sure it passed standard inspections, but you know damn well it wouldn’t have passed Memphis’s inspection, not a house this old. He wouldn’t have let her stay here until he looked it over himself. You need to get her out of here for a few hours, let us make sure it’s safe.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Truman grinned sheepishly. “I was told by Wyatt, Harley, and Memphis to not hit on her, but you? They keep putting her right next to you. So clearly you’re the most trustworthy out of the pair of us, the safest bet.”
Easton nudged Truman back away from the others that were not paying attention to them anyway. “You were hitting on her?” Easton asked as his expression turned stone cold.
Truman grinned. “I knew it, you dig her.”
“Truman, I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m just playing, but for real man, I know I’m the rookie and all, but I don’t think she should stay here until it’s checked out. And I think she’s embarrassed, so we have to figure a way around that. Take her for coffee or something. If we don’t find anything too horrible, bring her on back. If we do, at least she’ll have space from it, you can take her to Memphis’s and we can sort it out tomorrow.”
Easton just shook his head, knowing she hated him. “I’m on shift, I can’t just bail.”
“I can call in the next shift,” the chief said as he walked up behind Easton. “You’d expect Memphis to do the same for your sister.”
Truman lifted his brow with an ‘I told you so smirk’ strapped across his face. The chief was protective over the town in general, but his crew, their families, there was no gray line.
“What do you want me to do? Put her in the rig, Chief?”
“Go get your truck, take her to Memphis’s or something. Tell her the house needs to air out,” he said in tone that clearly stated he was not going to budge on this.
