by Jamie Magee
Easton let out a curse, but he was already walking away. His truck was only a few blocks down the street.
***
Her house was full of men, Georgia thought, full of firemen, wandering from room to room, all because she had burned her dinner. Memphis still hadn’t called, which was a miracle in and of itself. She thought about just calling him and getting it over with, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she blew out half her candles, hating fire for no particular reason, and sealed the paint she had opened.
Exactly how long does it take to see the pan is not on fire? she thought as she decided to charge up the hall and ask them to go on their way.
She found Truman first, studying one of the outlets like it was an epic novel. He looked up. “Hey, so congrats. Lotta work in front of you.”
She gave him her best fake smile. “Yeah, did you call Memphis?”
He shook his head no as if he were wondering if he should have. Great, she just put that idea in his head.
“Told them you said you were checking it out on your own first,” she heard Easton say and spun around, only to slam into his chest. He had lost his turnout suit and was now in a fireman T-shirt and fatigue pants.
She stepped back, fighting the pull of him. “Right, thanks. I kinda want to see his face when he hears about it. It would suck for him to get a call like this.”
“Right,” Easton said, pinning her with a heated stare, one she couldn’t read. He was either furious with her or wanted to take her right there and then. “Listen, the house needs to air out. We have to check a few things, protocol and all. You want me to take you to Memphis’s?”
“Yeah, y’all do that,” Truman said. “Get some coffee or somethin’.”
Shocking Easton, Georgia nodded in agreement, though he wasn’t sure on which point.
“I’ll call you when the chief gives the all clear,” Truman said to Easton.
Georgia went to explain a hundred times about the house, her reasoning, but the words wouldn’t come, which was ridiculous. She wasn’t a child; she was just frazzled, the way Easton always made her, so much so that at first she didn’t even question where his truck came from. Halfway to Memphis’s house, she yelled a curse.
“How bad is it?” Easton asked, glancing to her hand. He’d watched her wince every time she brushed it against something. There was not a doubt in his mind that it was blistered at this point. She might have popped it considering the way she was wringing her hands in her lap and fidgeting in her seat. He was pretty positive that the mere fact they were within feet of each other was ticking her off.
Georgia didn’t even understand the question. How bad was what? “I forgot my key at the house. You have to turn around.”
He knew he couldn’t do that, that she would figure out the boys were not exactly going through protocol at her house. “I think I have a spare at my house,” he said before he realized that was the worst idea of the decade, having her there. Two worlds he knew shouldn’t collide, not yet, not without warning.
She didn’t say a thing at first, then squared her shoulders and drained all the emotion from her face. “Fine.”
Somehow, Georgia had traversed the threshold of hell. He was taking her to his house. His freaking house. That ass. He was taking the ‘other woman’ home. She knew for sure she was not cut out to be a player, or the other woman. She could never do something so cold.
Her stomach flipped when she saw a car in the driveway, and saw lights on in the house. She almost puked when she figured out she was going to come face to face with her. How was she going to look her in the eye and act like she didn’t know what her boyfriend’s lips and hands felt like all over her body?
Easton parked and waited for her in front of the truck, looking calm. She swallowed her fear and decided this would get her over him for good. No more haunting thoughts or erotic dreams of Easton Ballantine; this was the harsh medicine she needed to swallow.
He started walking a step before she reached him, clearly keeping their bodies as far apart as possible.
Player, playing like a pro.
When they walked in the back door, a pretty little brunette in a nurse’s outfit jumped like she wasn’t expecting anyone, then let a smile fill her face as her eyes landed on Easton, then Georgia.
“Oh, thank God you’re home!” she breathed as she propped her foot up on the kitchen table chair to tie her laces.
“Something happen?” Easton asked in a sharp, alarmed tone.
“It must be a full moon or something. I was called in, and there have already been three deliveries tonight. Four more are in labor. I called Mom. She was trying to get off shift, but they need her, too. I really need the OT.”
“I’m still on shift,” Easton said.
“Damn,” the girl said, shifting her eyes to Georgia like she’d just had a brilliant idea. “You’re Georgia? You are, aren’t you? I met you at the rehearsal dinner.”
She had met her, and she’d asked Georgia to take pictures of her and her husband. Right now it would be impossible for Georgia to be any more confused.
“Mom loves you. Oh my God, Grace loves you! Can you help us out? Just a few hours?”
“That’s not a good idea,” Easton blurted. Good thing he did because Georgia was speechless, utterly perplexed and dumbstruck.
“Quit being so overprotective. Mom said Grace liked her more than mom and me put together. Did you hear me? More than her own aunt and grandmother, that says a lot, Easton. Georgia is golden according to Mom—she’s Memphis’s sister for Christ sake.”
Now Easton was looking like he was lost as hell as his eyes fell down on Georgia.
“Just a few hours,” the girl said again, moving to Georgia’s side. “Either Mom or Easton can get someone to cover for them in that amount of time.”
Georgia must have nodded or blinked a yes because the brunette jumped in place.
“Heck yeah! My husband’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted that OT to get him some fishing stuff he’s had his eyes on.” She looked up at Easton. “Do you want me to keep Grace here on Monday or at my house? The way Mom’s shifts are working out with yours, that would only mean one sleepover night for Grace if you let her stay with me.”
“Talk about it later,” Easton said gruffly.
The brunette reached up, kissed Easton’s cheek, and hugged Georgia. As she opened the door, she said, “She went down early tonight so she might get up in a bit. If you stay quiet though you should be good.”
Silence blared through the room for a few long seconds, long enough for them to hear his sister’s car pull away.
“How do you know my daughter?”
His deep voice vibrated through her body, right down to her core. How did he manage to make ‘daughter’ sound like a sexy word? That’s what Georgia wanted to know.
She had spotted the folder of prints she had given Cynthia sitting on the kitchen table a second or two before with a note that said: ‘Easton call me as soon as you see these, Love Mom’ on it. Georgia walked to the table and opened the album and slid it to him.
Easton’s gaze, which was somewhere between angry and confused, glanced to Georgia’s wounded hand before the folder.
The second he saw the first image his stare turned to silk. She turned the pages for him. He would reach to stop her, let his fingertips trace Grace’s smile. There was pride in his gaze, the kind of pride only a father could have.
“She smiled for you,” he breathed. His daughter hated women, hated a camera even more, yet she smiled for Georgia. Easton was speechless.
“She’s precious,” Georgia said with a hitch in her voice. “Where is her mother?”
Easton’s gaze shot to her. “Why do you want to know?” he asked, squaring his shoulders. The very thought of Grace’s mother brought fury to every inch of him.
“Because I don’t play games, and I’m not the ‘other woman’ material.”
“What does that have to do with this?” Then it cl
icked for him, all of it, and his brow tensed in anger, in disbelief. “You thought I was stepping out? That I just wanted to hit it and run?” A pissed smirk emerged as he shook his head. “I guess you really did think I was a male whore back then, and now, too.”
Georgia rocked back on her heels, dumbfounded that he not only remembered something she said in passing years ago but was also was using it as a weapon tonight. “What was I supposed to think? You have me pressed against the wall, hands and lips everywhere, and someone tells you that your girl’s on the phone and you freeze. Then I asked you about her, and you said she had nothing to do with us.”
He stepped closer to her, glared down. “Wyatt said my girl was on the phone looking for her daddy.”
“Yeah, so I took that the wrong way, but it’s not like you explained!” she said in a harsh whisper.
“Explained? What the hell, Georgia!” He had to deliberately take a breath and tell himself to lower his voice. “You come out of nowhere, act like you don’t even know me—at all—then refuse to talk to me. And I’m the bad guy?”
She pushed him back in fury, which only made her bite her lip to halt a squeal as she nearly knelt to the floor holding her hand. “You bastard!”
Easton reached down and grabbed her by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. He marched her down the hall to the bathroom and plopped her down on the vanity, then gripped her hand as he jerked a drawer open and pulled out a first aid kit. “Sit still,” he demanded.
Georgia’s chest was heaving. She was a breath away from crying and she didn’t know why. She loved Grace, absolutely adored her. She had been in love with Easton since before the word held relevance—but this ripped her in half. Somehow knowing he had begun a life with another woman made her feel far more betrayed than Hunter stepping out ever did—which was ridiculous.
“You didn’t call,” she finally said.
Easton looked up from her hand, from the medicine he was easing onto her wound.
“You played me,” Georgia rasped.
Easton clenched his jaw and looked deep into her luminescent eyes, which were shimmering with tears. All he could do was slightly move his head to the side, denying her statement. If he spoke his emotion would surely show, and this girl had already seen him broken twice.
With her good hand she pushed him back, but he didn’t budge. “You took it away—all the pain. You made me feel real then you just vanished. Like it didn’t fucking matter.”
He leaned in an inch from her face. “I don’t recall ignoring a call that came from you.”
Georgia looked away. She’d met Hunter two weeks after she had gotten back from her father’s funeral. She’d used him as a solid distraction—fixing him helped her forget the grief her father left her with, the anger her mother stirred, and the heartbreak Easton delivered. If she wanted to, if she were insane, she could easily blame Easton for the last four jacked up years of her life—but all of that would be bullshit, Georgia knew that. She made every choice that led her to where she was.
A stinging silence filled the air as Easton started to wrap her hand.
“You were seventeen.”
“Eighteen. Almost.”
“You were Memphis’s sister.”
She smirked. “Still am.”
He moved his body between her legs, leaned down to look her dead in the eye. “You reminded me of a grief I wanted to outrun—a pain I didn’t want to think about.”
The tears that were welling in her eyes spilled down her cheeks as her stare moved over him. “I could say the same.” And she meant it. Memphis may resemble her father, but Easton reflected his stoic persona, right alongside the ability to see right through the wall Georgia had always put up.
Easton looked down. “I guess we both grew up a little.”
Georgia moved her head side to side. “I’m not letting you hurt me again.”
Easton narrowed his stare on her, the idea that he had before, that she felt the pain he did, was killing him. “I won’t.”
“You have a family…a life,” Georgia said. “I’m still trying to figure me out.”
Easton moved back, giving her space, hoping if he did so, she wouldn’t know she had just ripped his heart out. “If Grace is a deal breaker between you and me there is nothing I can do about that. She’s my world, she’s me.”
Georgia reached for him but he stepped back farther, even raised his chin a bit, keeping emotion at bay. “It’s just me and her, Georgia. No mom.”
“You lost her,” Georgia said as a sick feeling washed down her. She was acting like a heartbroken teen and he was surely grieving for this woman.
Easton clenched his jaw as anger flashed in his eyes. “On purpose.”
When Georgia gasped, he looked away as he rushed his hand through his dark hair and paced. “No lost love, Georgia. Grace’s birthmother is a manipulative addict that thought it would be a stellar idea to trap me. When she figured out detox and pregnancy at the same time sucked she tried to kill herself, the baby—almost did. She had Grace at twenty-six weeks.” He looked right at Georgia. “Grace was still in the hospital, fighting for life when Trish signed over her rights and bailed.”
Georgia was speechless, completely stunned that she’d had no idea any of this went down. She knew her brother wasn’t one to air other people’s drama, but Easton was his best friend and this was a hell he endured.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?” Easton snapped.
“Because she hurt you, left you to carry this alone.”
He shook his head and stepped up to her. “She didn’t hurt me, Georgia. Nothing. I didn’t feel anything. There is only one woman that has ever reached me, that haunts the hell out of me—that has crossed my mind every single day for fucking years.” He leaned back. “Now you know it all, Georgia. I won’t blame you for running from this—me. There’s someone better out there for you.”
“You’re lying.”
Easton narrowed his gaze on her. He may have left out the brutal details of his past with his ex, but he was honest.
Georgia swallowed nervously. “No one sees me but you. There is no better.”
One breath later he stepped forward and pulled her to his lips. His kiss was deep, carnal. Her reaction was much the same as she clasped his shoulders and pulled herself up, wrapping her legs around him.
Chapter Eleven
She had no idea where he was taking her. In all truth, she only vaguely realized he was walking with her body wrapped around him. She was too busy inhaling the rush of him—mesmerized by his power to pull her out of reality and place her in a world that was all their own.
Seconds later, he laid her across a bed, but she couldn’t still her body into the sensual rhythm he was trying to slow them down to. She clasped her thighs around his waist, rolled him to his back, and rocked into him.
He would stop this in a minute. That’s what he told himself as his hands slid up her thighs, and his thumbs dipped between her legs before easing up and grasping her hips, then sliding up her shirt.
He grinned as his hands rushed across the heat of her flesh and she moaned softly.
She struggled to feel his flesh, pull his shirt up. In the process she unclipped his phone and radio and tossed them away. The second she leaned down and moved her lips across the part of his chest she had uncovered he rolled her to her back.
Their stares fell into one another, and as if he could hear it, his hand settled on her chest where her heart was hammering out of control.
“You’re going to have to tell me to stop, Georgia. I’ve waited too long to hold myself back.” His hand moved across her chest. “I can’t think when I’m this close to you.”
“Then don’t,” she said as she leaned up and took his lips with hers. Innocently at first but then her kiss became fierce¸ demanding.
He rocked forward, causing their bodies to collide, the fire in him to explode. He could feel every part of her pressed against him, but that wasn’t enough, he want
ed to feel every inch of her satin skin, devour every sensation then beg for more.
Before he could act on the notion her hands slid down his chest, resuming her previous task, removing his shirt so she could feel the heat of him against her.
She swayed her touch across his back. Every other sway her hands would make their way to his chest. Then all at once, one hand dipped lower, claiming the long, hard length of him. He hissed, feeling pure rapture as he rocked into her touch.
Easton broke away from her kiss and moved his lips down her neck. His powerful hands pushed up her shirt and his lips settled above her pounding heart, as his hand moved across the mix of cotton and lace of her bra.
She arched her back, begging to be set free, touched. When he pulled the lace away and when she felt the fire of his lips cover her, a moan escaped her throat. She could feel every detail of his tongue and the sweet agony of his mouth, which was biting, caressing, and awakening her body.
His mouth drifted across her chest, teasing one nipple only to claim the another. His hand moved down her stomach and dipped between the heat of her legs, only to lift back up to fumble with the button on her jeans.
With one swipe of his hands he’d pulled them from her hips, like they were never there. It was blowing her mind how someone as strong as him was able to be so careful, so sensual.
His eyes met hers, stilled, but his hands didn’t, she felt the palm of his hand sway across her stomach, down her thighs.
Holding her stare, his fingertips slipped into her fiery core. She wanted to slam her eyes shut and ride out the sensations that were building in her body, but there was something about how he was looking at her. His penetrating stare that reached past the surface, past the point of what she let the world see of her. It was pulling her into a world where she had never been, one she never wanted to leave, where the only thing she felt was him.
She moved her hips with his touch, felt accomplished when his eyes grew even hungrier, when they slid down her body only to return just as she was daring to close hers.
He leaned in and took her lips, biting the bottom one as his body moved against hers, and his fingertips claimed a fierce rhythm.
