After their initial break-up at the end of high school, she’d refused his letters, wouldn’t return his phone calls. She’d had good reason, given that an arrangement had been made between her father and his. After her pregnancy scare, a surprise visit by his father the summer of their senior year clarified that she would be the one holding Justin back from a promising future. A few years later, after his father’s funeral, she’d told him the truth over drinks of what had happened. He hadn’t taken the news well and, though she tried to make him see her reasoning, he’d stormed out, believing the worst. Shortly thereafter, she’d heard rumors that his mother had moved to Montana, leaving the family home to Jake and his fiancée.
There were no more phone calls. No more letters. She’d convinced herself that the clean break was for the best and then dove into her responsibilities at the bar to overcompensate for her loss. It wasn’t but a few weeks after that she’d heard he’d taken a teaching position in Montana. Though her heart ached that their relationship had ended as it had, she wanted him to be happy and hoped he’d one day find someone his family would accept.
Georgia picked up the calendar and counted the days until the reunion weekend. For all she knew, he had a wife and a tribe of kids by now. Her heart twisted at the thought. She’d felt certain her sacrifice had been the right thing to do, but with the possibility of seeing him again, Georgia’s heart ached anew.
She let out a heavy sigh. Had it not been for the fact that Langley’s needed the money, coupled with Jolie’s dig that as a local she should participate somehow, she’d have ignored the event altogether.
Georgia sat back and stretched her arms over her head, working out the stress in her shoulders. She needed a breath of fresh air. Walking through to the connecting room, she felt the pang of guilt of her father’s sacrifice. When he’d gotten too ill to drive, he’d had the small apartment built at the back of the bar. He’d insisted on working every day at the bar—cleaning, visiting with patrons, taking care of the bills—all the things she now had taken on.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said as she picked up the last photo they’d taken together. They were both smiling, unaware of how the world would come crashing down around them in a few short days. He died two weeks after the photo, leaving her the bar. She’d found solace in the arms of a country western singer who’d played the bar while touring with his band. And less than two weeks later, she’d lost him, too, in a horrific accident.
The pang of loss threatened to overwhelm her as it did when she dwelled on it. She pushed open the door leading out to a small porch that looked out on the tall Georgia pine at the back of the property. Her father used to come out here when he had a problem, something he needed to work out alone. He built the porch purposely facing the west, so he could see the sunset each night. It was his favorite time of day. He’d insisted that he should be buried at dusk.
Georgia eased into the old rocker that was her father’s and looked out across the darkening sky. She’d spent a lot of sunsets since out here on this very porch searching the twilight sky, asking God for answers to her questions about Kolby’s illness and his father’s untimely death, as well as the disease that taken her father away too soon. She had no answers yet to any of her questions—perhaps she never would.
The scent of pork roasting in the smoker outside the back door tickled her nose. She leaned back and took in a deep breath of the night air mixed with the earthy scent of Georgia pine coming from the grove of trees that her father had battled to keep when builders suggested they be taken down.
Her Dad had chosen this location and built the bar in homage to “southern hospitality” he felt was lacking in the city. It sat on the outskirts of the posh Atlanta suburbs, and had over time become the favorite of both blue-collar workers and the business elite of Atlanta. They came from miles around to savor a place to relax, enjoy a little southern comfort, and tap their feet to the music of up-and-coming country-western singers crisscrossing the honky-tonks in search of fame and fortune.
Georgia had started washing dishes at the age of fourteen and worked her way up to waitressing, and eventually to the business side of the bar. It’s where she’d first seen Justin Reed at the age of eighteen, trying to sneak in with his twin brother and a couple of friends to see one of the bands playing one early fall weekend. Tank had thwarted their plan immediately, calling them on their ruse by threatening to call one of the fathers to confirm their ages. It would be a couple of weeks later that she’d see him again. Georgia smiled as her thoughts drifted back to that fall evening long ago…
***
Georgia had never hung with the popular crowd. In truth, she’d found them boring and the majority of them spoiled. She preferred the artistic variety—music and theater students who hung out after school in the art room. Which only lent itself to confusion as to why she seemed to have a weird obsession for Justin Reed, a senior. He was the quieter of the twin brothers—both on the football team. Jake was the star quarterback. Justin—quicker on his feet—was one of the team’s top receivers. She’d gone with a friend to the homecoming game—a first in the history of her school career—but it was curiosity that drew her to observe the guy who’d inadvertently tossed her a friendly if not entirely humiliated smile as Tank escorted him from her father’s bar. Her friend, who happened to know one of the players with whom she had a “study arrangement”, had invited her to the bonfire after the game. She’d begged Georgia to go at the last possible moment, planting the seed of possibility that Justin Reed just might show.
That was all the incentive she’d needed. Still, she wasn’t about to reveal her hand entirely, even to her friend. “Okay, fine. I’ll hate it. All those snotty kids thinking they’re so much better than everyone, getting by with their kegs and coolers.” She glanced at her friend and chuckled. “Guess someone has to keep their eye on you.”
Her friend had smiled.
Later that night, Georgia had begun to regret her decision. She sat alone on an old log near the bonfire. The hoodie under her jean jacket barely covered enough to keep her warm from the chilly autumn night. Everyone around her was drinking, it seemed, laughing and nudging one another with dares to go visit the old house in the woods reported to have once been used as a hospital during the Civil War and was now haunted by those who’d died there. But Georgia knew it was primarily a dark, private place for kids to go make out. That’s where her friend and her study buddy had run off to, deserting her at the bonfire.
Georgia huddled as close to the fire as she could, watching the marshmallow on the end of her stick blacken to ash.
“Hey, it’s about damn time the rest of you got here,” came a yell from the shadows.
Jake Reed, as handsome as he was vocal, hopped from the old pickup truck and punched his fist into the air, emitting a tribal yell of victory. Those who’d been riding in the bed of the truck leapt over the side, following suit. The letter-jacketed cluster of athletes left one of their own in their wake.
Justin Reed.
Georgia watched as he stepped out of the driver’s side and pocketed his keys. She’d been there for nearly forty minutes without so much as a nod from anyone and had all but convinced herself that she was invisible to those she had no social connection to, so why would he even notice her staring at him? She staked her life that he was the designated driver tonight for his rowdy brother and his friends. They all beelined after Jake, who was heading for the keg.
She observed Justin stuff his hand in his pocket and scan the crowd of fifty or so homecoming revelers before pulling out his cell phone glancing at the time. She caught his heavy sigh followed by an eyeroll as he watched his brother, red Solo cup in hand, drop his arm around Jolie, the head cheerleader.
She was about to go back to her dying marshmallow when his gaze crossed path with hers. Okay, she might have claimed creative license when it seemed his eyes locked with hers with the heat of the fire crackling between them. Georgia’s heart faltered—what the hell? —whi
ch was an absurdity given that this guy was not in her league. Not even close. Oh, sure, she was worth it. She was a badass. Daughter of the owner of one of Atlanta’s hottest honky-tonks. She chuckled softly, doubting Justin Reed had ever met anyone outside his upper crust, country-club status.
Georgia held his gaze as he walked over and sat down on the log next to her. She looked away, then focused on tossing her burnt blob of marshmallow into the fire—stick and all.
“Some game, huh?” he said. He looked around as though mildly curious if anyone noticed him slumming it with the ghost in their midst.
Georgia didn’t respond, but poked at the fire, waiting for him to decide to leave.
After a moment, he chuckled as though she’d said something funny. “I can’t believe that last play, can you? Damn, I was lucky that Jake found me after I screwed up the play.” He shrugged. “I guess the important thing is we won, right?” He glanced at her. “You remember the play I’m talking about, right?”
He was adorable. Sweet. Probably lived in one of those ritzy districts where they had scheduled neighborhood potlucks every Friday night during the summer. “I don’t like football as a rule,” she said, forcing herself to look into those amazing blue eyes.
She wanted to kick herself for the flicker of hurt she saw pass through his gaze. He frowned and eyed her.
“Really, you don’t ever go to any of the games? Who doesn’t go to football games—especially homecoming?”
He gave her a lop-sided grin to show he was teasing her. This time, however, she was close enough to see the cute dimple that accompanied the smile.
“You do go to this school though, right?
Yeah, okay, maybe she deserved that. Still, it pissed her off. She pushed to her feet, ready to walk back to town if need be. He grabbed her arm.
“Hey, come on. It’s just that you seem familiar.” He slid his hand in hers, tugging on it until she sat back down. “I promise, we don’t have to talk about football.”
Georgia glanced at his handsome face. Those crystal blue eyes all but twinkled in the firelight. She wasn’t sure he’d keep his promise, but it was for certain that, right then and there, she’d fallen for Justin Reed—hard.
They talked, and Georgia found it surprisingly easy. So much so that later that night, when he’d dared her to go with him and a few others to the abandoned Stoneville house, promising he’d not leave her side and she didn’t need to be afraid, she agreed. The challenge that she couldn’t handle fear is what had pushed her to go. When, at one point on the dark trail through the woods, two of the guys veered off to create spooky noises for those going on, Justin pulled her behind a large oak and explained what was about to happen to those who’d walked ahead.
“And should I be afraid of what’s going to happen to me all alone with you out here in the dark?” she’d asked, touching her hand to his cheek.
He’d kissed her as she’d hoped, cautiously at first. Tentative. Unsure of his sexual prowess. Georgia had wondered if he’d ever kissed a girl before.
Maybe it was the night, the company, maybe the half cup of beer that left a pleasant buzz to her brain. But she grabbed the back of his head, infused with the need to taste his lips on hers. She’d pined after him silently for weeks, sneaking glimpses of him as he walked through the halls at school, their shoulders briefly touching once in the crowd between classes. He hadn’t noticed, but she hadn’t washed that shirt for a month after.
“Wow,” he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. He licked his lips and searched her eyes.
“I saw you that night at my dad’s bar,” she confessed.
His gaze narrowed. “That’s right, at Langley’s.” His hand slid down, drawing her hips to his. He grinned. “You were bussing tables, as I recall, that night. I knew we’d met before.” He touched his lips to hers.
“Not really met,” she said between his persistent kisses.
“Georgia, right?” he nuzzled the spot below her ear.
Chills raced down her spine, to her knees and everywhere in between. He knew her name? “Yeah, Georgia Anne,” she whispered, drugged by his charm.
“Georgia Anne,” he repeated with a smile as he studied her face. “I think you and I are going to get to know each other a whole lot more. What do you say?”
She fisted his jacket and dragged him closer, delighting in the low growl as she pulled him into another fiery kiss.
So began the season of their senior year—a year of unbridled, youthful passion. Oblivious to anyone but each other, they spent every moment together, defying anyone to call what they had anything but the “real deal.” That summer before he was to leave for college was seared in her memory. One rainy afternoon on an old deserted dirt road, they’d both lost their virginity in the cab of his beat up pick-up truck.
***
“Hey, Georgia.”
Shaken by her bartender’s authoritative voice, Georgia shook herself from the ancient memories.
“It’s that distributor again.” Tank held the side door open. “Wants to talk with you about the order you placed earlier this week.”
Her body tingled still from her previous thoughts. She blew out a sigh and looked up at the stars beginning to dot the night sky, realizing how she’d lost track of time. “I’m on my way.”
#-#-#
About the Author
Kymber Morgan lives in the shadow of the Canadian Rockies in the heart of cowboy country and writes both contemporary western and paranormal romance. When she’s not spinning tales of mystics, mavericks and mayhem, you’ll find her practicing to be a snowbird with her husband, sharing a love of photography with her son, or amusing a cat named Twitch.
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Also Available for Kindle
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Wild for Cowboy by Kymber Morgan
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Her Hero by Hildie McQueen
Hurricane Bride by Beth Williamson
The Wedding Charm by Susan Hatler
Sweet Love of Mine by Lindi Peterson
Moon Over Atlanta by Kymber Morgan
Georgia on My Mind by Amanda McIntyre
It Could Happen to Us by Lucy McConnell
SEAL You in My Dreams by Sharon Hamilton
Magnolia Mystic by Lisa Kessler
Anxious in Atlanta by Kristen Osbourne
Southern Secrets by Susan Carlisle
Out-lanta by Tina DeSalvo
From Now On by Raine English
Sweet Georgia Peach by Amelia Adams
Maybe Baby by E. E. Burke
A Kiss is Just a Kiss by Melinda Curtis
Heat Wave by Merry Farmer
Taste of Tara by Shanna Hatfield
Hit and Run Love by Jennifer Peel
Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Dumpster: Toccoa Metal Technologies, Inc.
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Ford F-350: Ford Motor Company
G.I. Joe: Hasbro, Inc.
Hyatt: Hyatt Corporation
Instagram: Instagram, LLC
Learjet: Learjet Inc.
Romantic Times: Romantic Times, Inc.
Teamsters: International Brotherhood of Teamsters
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