by Jane Hinchey
"Hey guys," Georgia called to the crew, ignoring him. She wasn't sure exactly WHY she was angry with him, just that she was. It shouldn't bother her in the least that he was getting his jollies with the stunning Veronica, but somehow...it mattered. And she didn't like it, not one bit.
The work crew made lifting the massive table off the back of the truck and into her workshop look easy as if it weighed nothing. She'd cleared space in the center of the workshop for the dining table, allowing plenty of room to work from any angle.
Dressed again in her worn shorts and stained tank top, she kept her back to Zak, standing with her hands on her hips as she eyed the table and mentally plotting out her plan of attack. Strip it back first of course, but then she'd need to get the splits fixed, then sand back the dings and dents. Rather than a rustic effect, she wanted this table to be sleek, smooth and perfect.
A finger traced down the inside of her upper arm. She snatched her arm away, stepping away from Zak.
"What does your tattoo say?"
Her tattoo was hard to see, on the inside of her upper arm.
"What does it matter to you?" She was still annoyed at him for hitting on her. It was one thing to have a hot guy hit on you, but when he already had a girlfriend? What an asshole. Worse was that she had the hots for him. Her own guilt at wanting someone who was already taken notched her anger up.
"Doesn't," he shrugged, "just curious. I didn't notice it before."
"It's private."
"There are other places you could have put it on your body where it wouldn't be seen." His eyes raked her body, lingering on her breasts.
"Oh fuck off," she snapped, striding away, inexplicably furious.
"Hey," he followed her as she stomped up the path towards the farmhouse, "what's crawled up your butt?"
"Seriously?" Eyes spitting fire, she planted her palm against his chest and shoved him, forcing him to take a step back. Little did she know it wasn't often anyone got away with pushing Zak Goodwin; she didn't realize how much slack he was cutting her.
Georgia's temper was simmering, and when it blew, well, she hit things, or threw things, or broke things. Whenever her temper got the better of her, she got physical, and look out whoever stood in her way when that happened. Zak either didn't heed the warning or chose to ignore it. With a finger, he poked her in the shoulder in return, "Seriously."
"You're an A-class wanker, you know that?" she spat.
"I've been called worse," he drawled, "but it would be kinda nice to know why you're slinging shit at me."
"Fuck you! I'm not playing your games, so just leave me the hell alone."
"There are all sorts of games I'd like to play with you, Georgia, give me a hint here."
"Does Veronica know what a man whore you are?" she demanded.
"Veronica?" He appeared genuinely puzzled.
"Yeah, you know, tall blonde, lives with you? Ring any bells?"
"Veronica is my personal assistant, Georgia," he explained patiently. "Veronica lives in my house, yes, but we're not a couple."
"You're not?" Georgia's eyebrows couldn't possibly have climbed any further up her forehead.
"No," he chuckled, "I haven't been in a relationship for a VERY long time."
"Bullshit. Your face is always splashed around on the internet, dating bimbo after bimbo."
"I don't do relationships, but I do have sex. Often."
"So you're telling me you're a one-night-stand kinda guy?"
"Sometimes it's more than one night," he shrugged, "if the sex is good and the lady willing, I'll stick around for a while."
"So you ARE a man-whore."
"Have you lived your life so perfectly you've earned the right to judge me?" He threw up his hands in exasperation, turning away from her and heading for his jeep.
"You jerk!" she shouted after him, "I quit. Call your fucking team to get your fucking table and clear the fuck out!" Anger sizzled through her veins like lava, burning, twisting, poisoning.
"No, you don't." He started the engine and drove off before she could reply, leaving her standing with her cheeks flushed, hands on her hips and glaring at the jeep as it disappeared down her driveway.
6
What's wrong with me?
Georgia straightened the swinging punching bag, steadying it ready for another round of her unrelenting fists. She'd had anger issues in her teens but had learned to keep a handle on it once she was an adult. Today Zak reduced her to a hormonal teenager within minutes. And she didn't like it, not one bit.
Thump, thump, thump. Left, right, jab, kick. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Her muscles burned from the strain. She'd been laying into the bag for over an hour, landing punch after punch, kick after kick, trying to eradicate the pent up energy of her anger.
Thump, thump, thump. Why? Why did he get under her skin, why did she even care who he was sleeping with? She didn't. Punch. Liar. Punch. It wasn't like her to judge; hell, when she had an itch that needed scratching she didn't hesitate to find someone willing and able. She didn't date, so why the double standard when it came to Zak doing the same?
Gasping for breath she stepped back, and leaning forward with her hands on her knees she drew in great gulps of air, her lungs burning. Sweat dripped from her forehead, making small raindrop shapes on the ground. The buzzing of her phone was a welcome distraction.
Straightening, she grabbed her towel, blotted at her face and snatched up her phone.
"Skye Blue," she puffed out.
"Hey! Caught you at a bad time?"
"Working out."
"Sounds intense, you're really puffing."
"Punching the shit out of the punching bag. Soothing."
"Who pissed you off?" Skye recognized the signs.
"Doesn't matter. I'll deal."
"Let me know if I can help." Skye's voice was gentle. She knew Georgia hated the battle she had with her temper. How it had gotten so bad as a teenager she'd almost landed in juvey. That it had been a constant source of friction between Georgia and their father, a law enforcement officer. How many times he'd had to bail her ass out of trouble, stop charges from being laid 'cos she'd lost her cool. Skye still remembered the shouting matches between the pair.
"Will do. What's up?"
"Tomorrow's the anniversary. I'm going to the cemetery...you in?"
Georgia closed her eyes against the sudden sweep of pain that threatened to crush her. Another year already? That made six years. Six years since her parents had died in that senseless car crash. Six years since she'd failed them.
"I'm in. What time?"
"Sunset. Seven o'clock. Mom loved the sunset."
"I'll meet you there." Georgia hung up, her chest tight. Six years wiped away as if it had been yesterday. Everyone told her it would get easier, that time would heal, so why did she still feel so raw? Why did it still hurt so damn much?
"Fuck it," she growled, dropping the towel to the floor and heading inside.
"Another round, Eddie!" Slamming her glass on the bar Georgia eyeballed the bartender. Just try and cut me off. I dare you.
Another double scotch, no ice, appeared in front of her. She tossed a handful of cash on the bar before slamming down the contents in one gulp. The alcohol burned down her throat but she barely noticed.
"I'll pour you another one, but only if you promise to take it slow." Eddie frowned at her.
Fine. Whatever. Bloody pussies the lot of 'em.
"Deal." She took a mouthful but stopped herself from downing the entire contents in one gulp. Instead, she set the glass down carefully in front of her, staring down into the amber contents as if they could reveal the secrets of the universe.
Satisfied that she'd keep her word and slow down, Eddie moved off to serve other patrons. The noise in the bar washed over her, seemingly muted, as if she was underwater. She wasn't sure if it was a result of the alcohol or the grief pouring through her, as fresh today as it had been six years ago.
As promised, she'd met Sky
e at the cemetery, a fragrant bouquet of pink lilies in her hand. Her mother's favorite. Skye had brought yellow daisies for their dad. The girls laid the fresh flowers on the graves, side by side.
"It's okay to forgive yourself," Skye had told her, clasping her hand as they stood in front of the graves.
"Don't."
"Georgia...it wasn't your fault. It was an accident. Just a stupid accident."
"I should have seen it. I should have been able to stop it from happening. I could have told them to take a different route that night, or not go out at all."
"Please don't do this to yourself," Skye had begged, hating the pain and anguish in her sister's eyes. "How could you have seen a car crash? A single moment in time, water on the road making it slippery?"
"They should be here, Skye!" Pulling away from her, she spun, heading back to her car, needing to drown the pain, to dull the sharp edges that stabbed at her.
"Hey beautiful, come here often?"
"Really? That's your pickup line?" Georgia eyed the idiot who'd just slid onto the bar stool next to her.
"Actually it wasn't a pickup line," he lied, "but a serious question. So? Do you?"
"I'm really not in the mood." She turned back to her drink. The idiot wasn't that bad looking she supposed: blonde, blue-eyed, nice build, strong shoulders.
"I bet I could get you in the mood," he purred, running a finger down her arm.
Seriously?
"I'm going to say this slowly, so you understand. Don't. Touch. Me. I'm not interested. Now go away." She shrugged away from his touch.
The idiot took no heed, raising his hand to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek, leaning in close to whisper in her ear, "You...me...naked...."
"Okay, I'm telling you twice. Don't touch me. Ever. Understood?"
His hand trailed down her cheek to her collarbone. Reaching up she snatched his hand with hers, squeezing painfully.
"I've asked you twice. Agreed? Eddie, you're a witness here. I asked him, twice, not to touch me, didn't I?"
"You did," Eddie agreed.
"Ok then."
A loud crack and he was lying on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. The sting in her knuckles told her that she'd nailed him a good one. Idiot. Without another glance she turned back to her drink, closing her eyes and letting the alcohol swirl around her tongue.
She sensed movement around her as his mates helped him to his feet, heard his muttered "bitch," as they led him away, but she paid them no heed.
"Eddie," she called. The bartender leaned toward her, a slow grin on his face.
"You did good there," he told her, "you didn't pummel him into next week."
"Must be slipping." She grinned back. "Eddie, you know what?" she slurred, the effects of the scotch kicking in.
"What?"
"I think I'm going to call it a night."
"Really? No dancing on the bar tonight?" he teased.
"Not tonight. Tonight I shall try and be rethsponshible. For mom and dad," her words thick and heavy.
"Want me to call a cab? Or Rhys?" Eddie offered.
"Neither!" she declared, sliding from the bar stool and steadying herself against the bar with one hand when the room swayed. "I'm going to walk."
"Walk?" Eddie laughed. "Georgia, you live miles away. Too far to walk, girl," he chided.
"Nevertheless..." and off she sauntered, weaving her way to the door.
"I'll call Rhys," Eddie muttered.
Outside the fresh air sobered her somewhat, and she took a moment, leaning against the outside of the building, to study the star-filled sky. Where her parents up there now, looking down on her? Proud of what she'd made of her life? Or still shaking their heads at her, wanting her to do better? She hoped her dad wasn't angry that she'd punched the idiot. She'd done what he'd taught her. Ask them twice. Make sure you ask them twice and then hit them. See dad? I remembered.
7
Georgia successfully avoided Zak for three days. Rhys had turned up to question her over the assault at the bar. No charges were pressed, and she supposed she should be grateful, but Georgia couldn't bring herself to care. Of course, she'd been busted leaving the police station, and the local rag had posted a status update about her on Facebook, along with a picture of her scowling and flipping the bird to the camera.
Skye had texted her, "It's ok, I'm not mad. Rhys filled me in."
Zak texted her, "Everything ok?"
She ignored both. That is until the timber arrived for Zak's bed and she had no choice but to face him.
Face like a thundercloud, she climbed the steps to his front door and rang the doorbell. Frank let her in, handing her a key.
"Might as well let yourself in in the future," he told her before disappearing towards the back of the house. Slipping the key onto her key ring, Georgia headed straight upstairs to the master bedroom and got to work.
She didn't see any sign of Zak all morning and had successfully managed to put him out of her mind by the time he showed up in the afternoon.
"Is it safe to come in?" he asked from the doorway. Georgia turned off the bandsaw, pulling her dust mask down around her neck and her protective ear muffs and goggles onto the top of her head.
"You need something?"
"I need all sorts of things," he insinuated. Sighing in frustration Georgia glared at him.
"Can't you ever be serious? Does everything always have to be a come-on with you?" she grumbled.
"I can be serious," he told her, "deadly serious." With a deadpan face, he moved toward her, stopping within arm's reach.
"Seriously Zak, you give me a headache. Can't you just leave me alone to get this job done and I can get out of your hair?"
"What if I like you in my hair? In my house. In my bed...room."
Slipping her safety equipment back over her face she turned the saw back on, ignoring him. Sawdust flew and the saw whined as it ate through the timber she fed it. She didn't hear him leave the room but felt it when he'd left the radius of her senses. The tension slowly eased from her shoulders and she focused on her work, blocking all thoughts of the sexy celebrity from her mind. At five she heard the mass exodus of the construction crew and, not keen to be left in the house alone, she packed up for the day, escaping without seeing anyone.
She'd arranged to meet Skye at the gym after work and they'd made plans to grab a bite to eat afterward. She stopped in at the farmhouse to change into her gym gear and pack a bag with a change of clothes - she'd shower and change at the gym after her workout.
"Hey Georgie Girl," Skye was standing outside the gym when she pulled up.
Pulling her sister in for a hug, Georgia teased back, "Skye Blue". The aerobics class had already started, so they decided they'd do their own routine on the bikes and treadmill.
"How's it going with Zak Goodwin?" Skye asked as they sat side by side on stationary bikes, leg pumping as they peddled to nowhere.
"I'll be glad when it's over," Georgia admitted, "Zak Goodwin might be sex on legs, but he's got an ego to go with it," she grumbled.
"Oh? What happened?"
"Oh, nothing really, he just hits on me all the time."
"Geez Georgie, you must be the only woman on this earth who'd complain about having Zak Goodwin hit on them."
"Hate to burst your bubble, Skye - he's made it very clear he's a love 'em and leave 'em type of guy. While he didn't come out and say, 'let's have no strings attached sex', that's the vibe I got. And I'm not interested in becoming another notch on his bedpost."
"Oh yuk. Creep," Skye agreed. "Rhys called into the shop today, asked if we wanted to see the band playing at the pub this weekend."
"Yeah? That'd be cool. You in?"
"I guess. I don't want to be the third wheel though."
"Errr, hang on a minute, genius. He came in asking YOU. Why would that make you the third wheel? If anything, I'd be the third wheel."
"Maybe he asked me first because he saw me before he saw you. It's you he's
interested in."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Skye."
"Seriously Georgia, how can you not see he's got the hots for you?" Skye protested.
"I think he's confused. Don't get me wrong, I think he's the perfect guy, the perfect catch, but he's in my friend zone. I don't want to lose that. If we try something and it doesn't work, I'll have lost a dear, dear friend. A friend I really don't want to lose."
"You're not having much luck with men these days are you?" Skye commented, switching to the treadmill, making chitchat difficult.
Wrapping up their workout, the girls showered, then hit the local pizza parlor before Georgia headed home around nine. She'd had a good night. She and Skye were close. Their parents had died when Skye was eighteen and Georgia twenty. It had brought the sisters closer than ever.
They'd used the small inheritance to get the shop started and as a down payment on the farm. Skye had lived with Georgia for a while, but Skye hadn't liked living so far out of town and they'd decided to do up the apartment above the shop for her.
Skidding to a halt out in front of the farmhouse, Georgia climbed out of the truck and took a moment to enjoy the star-studded sky. With a happy sigh, she turned and made her way to the front door. She'd unlocked it and was just pushing it open when her senses fired and someone made their presence known by pushing her in the middle of the back, sending her sprawling across the floor. The front door clicked shut ominously behind her.
Picking herself up and dusting herself off, she turned to face her foe. Blue jeans, faded red t-shirt, well built, solid. His hair was closely shaved to his scalp, and the bulging arms crossed over his chest were covered in tattoos. All in all a very scary-looking vamp. Too bad she'd only felt him a second before he attacked.
"My boss has a job for you," he told her.
"Sorry, I'm all booked up. He'll have to look elsewhere."
