by Tessa Bailey
“Thank you for your honesty.”
Her sister gave a sigh of relief, giving a lazy spin in the newly vacated space around her. Vivian appeared disgusted as she handed Georgie a glass of champagne and orange juice.
“The Just Us League was formed by Rosie, Bethany, and I because we wanted to accomplish something. Individually and together. We have goals. If you can relate . . . if you need help doing the same—and are willing to actively support other club members—we’d love for you to stay.”
“I thought this was about saying sayonara to the menfolk!”
Georgie was pretty sure the woman who yelled that statement was one and the same with fuck them all lady. “That’s not all it’s about . . .”
“Careful . . .” Vivian murmured out of the side of her mouth.
“I mean, certainly, if there is a negative influence in your life, you should, um”—Georgie took a long sip of her mimosa—“examine that.”
A hand went up in the living room. She looked familiar to Georgie, but she couldn’t quite place her. Still, she smiled, encouraging her to proceed. “Kristin told us all that this club is about empowering ourselves. But she also confirmed the rumor that you’re dating Travis Ford. He was at a family dinner and everything.” She crossed her arms. “It’s no secret Travis goes through women like water. How are we supposed to listen to your advice when you can’t even follow it yourself?”
A murmur went up around the room.
Bethany took a position in front of Georgie. “Bad form calling her out in front of—”
“No,” Georgie said, patting her sister’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s right. But seriously, Kristin, you’re, like, two seconds away from getting voted off the island.”
Kristin slumped against the kitchen wall and stuffed an empanada into her mouth. “Oh,” she sniffed. “These are so much better than my corn muffins.”
No sooner had Kristin taken her second bite of the empanada than Stephen came striding into the house—once again with wet hair. He said nothing as he hustled his wife out the door. And his scowl ensured that nobody tried to stop him.
With the interruption over, Georgie faced the room again. Yes, the plan had been to convince the town, her family, and the press that she was dating Travis. She’d engaged in deception with open eyes. But standing in front of this room of women who were looking to her for guidance? She couldn’t find it in her to lie anymore. So she told the truth. “He cut down a branch from the tree I used to climb as a child. And when I got home yesterday, he was in my backyard sawing and sanding. Turning it into a new fireplace mantel for me.”
Gasps went up around the room.
“I know, right? So . . . people make mistakes. Like organizing a dating competition when the prize has no interest in being won,” she said, giving some of the offenders a pointed look. “Sometimes when you don’t know a person, it’s hard to understand why they do things, right?” The pounding started in her chest. “I’m not asking you to change your opinion of Travis, but I’m asking you not to let someone make it for you. That is the purpose of this club. We’re not about cutting people out of our lives. We’re about refusing to accept anything less than what we deserve. About realizing that we’re all important here despite mistakes or bad relationships or lackluster careers. Even someone with the nickname Two Bats. No one ask me if it’s accurate.” She refocused on the woman in the crowd. “To answer your original question, I’m not asking anyone to follow my advice. We’re all here to learn and grow. Starting now. Who is with us?”
Georgie almost fell off the stool when everyone started clapping. They were with her, Georgie Castle. Could it mean they viewed her not only as an equal, but as a mature voice of reason? She’d been fake dating Travis in order to force everyone to view her through a different lens, but she’d ended up doing it on her own without even realizing it, hadn’t she? She’d found a new way to make people listen.
She climbed off the stool, only to be wrapped in a bear hug by Bethany. “All right,” her sister shouted over her head. “Who’s ready to kick ass and take names?”
Everyone converged on them, champagne glasses lifted in a salute.
“If you’re serious about being a member,” Bethany continued, “you can all start by signing up for the Tough Mudder on Friday.”
Another dozen women blew out the front door.
Travis stared across the street at his childhood home.
The rain had let up, but it still tapped from the roof of the rusted detached garage, probably due to a leak. Beer cans littered the yard, courtesy of local kids. A tree root came up through the walkway, cracking the concrete in half.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there. Only that he’d been restless as soon as Georgie left him this morning. So he’d gotten in his truck and driven there. To the scene of his nightmares.
Upon pulling up, his first thought had been a wish that he’d waited and brought Georgie along. His stomach would still be tied up in knots, but they wouldn’t be nearly as tight. She would say the exact right thing. Would read his mood and know when to push, to pull, to do nothing.
With a growl of irritation, he crossed the street and walked into his yard for the first time since he’d left for Northwestern. Since he’d walked out with a suitcase full of the essentials and never looked back. His boots kicked through the gravel, rain landing on his shoulders. Again, he wished for Georgie’s presence. But overall, it wasn’t so bad. Those nights he’d sat outside waiting for his father to get home—or for his mother to pick him up—the yard had seemed so huge and dark. Now? Now everything looked smaller than his memories. Like the set of a bad play.
Even though his name was on the deed, he didn’t have a key. Opening the door was no problem, though, since the hinges were disintegrating with rust. One kick of his boot and the thing swung open. A cat went streaking out through his legs, issuing a loud yowl. Travis took a few seconds to center himself and stepped inside.
The house layout never made sense to him—and still didn’t. There was no entryway or hall. The house simply began with the kitchen. All the furniture was gone, but the terrible green floral wallpaper had stood the test of time, and the floor was yellow with age. The house remained silent, except for the patter of rain on the roof, and Travis half expected to hear the tinny cackle of a television studio audience coming from his father’s room down the hall. That’s where the old man always stayed, leaving Travis to his own devices. Occasionally, they would cross paths on the way to the bathroom, and he swore the frown lines on his father’s face deepened every time, the bitter cascading off him in waves.
“Could I do better than this?”
A mental image of his wretched apartment before Georgie helped him clean made Travis doubtful. Something was prodding him, though. A need he’d never felt before to put down roots, without the visage of his youth haunting him and telling him it wasn’t possible. Why now? Why was he suddenly anxious to shed this final piece of his past so he could start building something new?
Georgie’s smile danced in his head, but he laughed it off. No, a lasting commitment to another person was next level. Wasn’t it? It was enough for now that he wanted stability. To win this job on the network and build a life he could be proud of. A lump built in his throat as he continued to think of Georgie. How she’d felt in his arms this morning. How natural and . . . perfect it felt to start the day with her. And it was impossible to pretend he was at his childhood home for any other reason than making progress within himself. To be better for her. To what end, he didn’t know yet . . . but with the deadline of their agreement fast approaching, the idea of letting her go threatened his sanity.
Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Travis snatched the cell phone out of his pocket, tapping the number he’d programmed into his favorites years ago. He didn’t get an answer, but the cheerful recording told him to leave a message.
“Hi. Yeah, my name is Travis Ford. I want to speak with someone about a property appr
aisal.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He’d decided to pick Georgie up in a limo at the last second.
It wasn’t a power play or a show of influence. No, if he was honest with himself, the eleventh-hour call he’d made to the limousine company stemmed from his need to soak up as much Georgie as possible. No more lying to himself. Since he wouldn’t be able to read her expressions—and, fuck it, touch her—with two hands on the steering wheel, he’d just pulled up in front of her house in a black stretch. Half the neighborhood was out on their lawns by the time he made it up the path. Tonight had a lot of the same merits as prom night. Travis was wearing a tuxedo, he was picking his date up at the door, and tonight was definitely supposed to signal the end of something.
That reminder caused a baseball to get stuck in his throat.
Travis wasn’t ready for this thing with Georgie to end.
In fact, calling it a “thing” was starting to get on his goddamn nerves. He was closer to Georgie than anyone else in his life. There had been a moment yesterday on the high school baseball field when Travis had dropped every pretense and just let her see everything inside of him. His love for baseball, his sadness over losing the ability to play. He’d forgotten to mask those always-present insecurities and laid them bare . . . and he was still standing. Better than still standing, actually. He felt unburdened. Stronger. Like a better version of himself.
All because of this girl.
Now he was supposed to parade Georgie in front of some corporate assholes and say good-bye to her at the end of the night? A permanent good-bye?
Panic made Travis’s arm too heavy to lift and knock. Why had he decided to put a time limit on this . . . dammit, this thing with Georgie? Being alone had worked very well for him in the past. Answering to no one, keeping every short-lived relationship on his own terms. What he had with Georgie felt outside of his control, though. A flame that fed itself—and he had no fire extinguisher.
The front door of the house opened and Travis’s jaw almost hit the porch. This was not the girl who’d woken him from his self-induced mental coma all those weeks ago. Except for in the eyes. Yeah, she may be dressed to induce fantasies, but that classic Georgie authenticity shone back at him from a pair of green eyes. Unbelievable that her eyes were demanding his focus when she looked insanely hot. Her shoulders were completely bare in the dress, a skirt flaring out around her thighs. Thighs that seemed to stretch forever thanks to the high heels. She was sexy and guileless and there was no one like her.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “You, um . . . look very handsome. In that tux.”
Travis’s lower body responded so intensely to the husky quality of her voice, the proof she was attracted to him, that he could only stand there and breathe through it.
“You don’t like the dress,” she said, running her hands down the front of the dress. “I know I’m supposed to be the innocent small-town girl that has saved you from a life of debauchery, but they don’t really make nice enough dresses for that.”
“Georgie.”
“I tried one with a higher neckline, but I didn’t have the right bra, so the straps kept peeking out the sides and—”
“You look fucking perfect. You are perfect.”
The worry in her eyes melted away. “Thank you, Travis.” Her mouth popped open. “Is that a limo?”
“Yeah.” Travis stepped over the threshold and backed Georgie into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn’t stop walking until her ass bumped the entry table, rattling knickknacks and making her gasp. “Listen up,” he rasped against her mouth. “You stick by me all night.”
Her fingers curled in his jacket as if they couldn’t help it and he wished she would just rip it off and climb him, damn the dinner party. “What’s wrong?” She laid a tentative kiss on his chin. “Are you nervous?”
“No.” Travis turned his head and caught her mouth with a kiss. It was only meant to be a brief one, but her head fell back and he dove in, pressuring open her lips and rubbing their tongues together. “No, I’m just not sure what I was thinking. This plan. This . . . showing you off in order to get a job.” His thumbs stroked the hollows of her cheekbones. “I don’t like it. I didn’t think this far ahead.”
She was breathing with her eyes closed. “People do this kind of thing all the time.”
“Believe me, I know. That’s why it feels wrong with you.”
Those green eyes popped open. “I don’t understand.”
Travis searched for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t reveal this struggle he was having over tonight being the end. Georgie’s mouth distracted him, though, and all that would come out was the truth. “I don’t want you on display. I don’t want . . . us on display.”
The pulse in her neck visibly jumped. “Us?”
On the other side of the door, the limousine driver honked. Just a light tap, intended to let him know if they didn’t leave now, they wouldn’t make it on time. And thank God for that honk, right? He’d been about to tell Georgie he wanted their relationship to last beyond tonight. That he wanted it to be real. Wanted the right to kiss her, take her out, sit beside her at family dinners. Fuck her into the next stratosphere, take her jogging, show up when she performed at birthday parties, and, most importantly, tell other men to stay the hell away. Wanted the right to do it any time, any day of the week.
Ridiculous.
He didn’t know the first thing about being someone’s boyfriend. Jesus, though. “Boyfriend” sounded so much more accurate than “thing.” With her sweet body pressed up against him, possessiveness flowing in his blood, they were so far beyond a thing, he almost laughed. Almost. He was too unnerved by the ultimatum he was giving himself. He couldn’t just be her indefinite hookup—she deserved better than that. The prospect of letting her go made him feel submerged in quicksand, but she deserved someone who had a healthy outlook on commitment. Marriage. He was not that man. He would never, ever be that man.
Say good-bye tonight or ask Georgie for more. Those were his only two options.
“Travis?”
Taking one final sniff of her hair, he stepped away. “We should go.”
Georgie scrutinized him for a moment and nodded, letting him open the door so they could step onto the porch, before she turned and locked up. Despite reminding himself he and Georgie couldn’t be together, he found himself taking hold of her hand on the walk to the limo, cataloging her blush, her silent Oh God, oh God when she realized the neighbors were staring. A gust of summer wind blew a strand of hair across her mouth and he almost tripped off the sidewalk where it ended.
God, she was gorgeous.
Despite Travis’s inability to stop staring at her, there was a definite strain between them on the ride to Old Westbury. He continued to hold her hand nonetheless, as if letting it go would make time go faster. They remained silent, facing forward in the rear seat, humming down the Northern State Parkway for half an hour before Travis couldn’t take the distance anymore and dragged Georgie sideways onto his lap. She went without protest, tucking her head underneath his chin with a wince.
The weight of her in his lap caused his eyelids to droop. “What was that about?”
“I did lunges this morning. A whole lap around the high school track.”
“More Tough Mudder training?”
She nodded, bumping his chin. “We have thirty-one new members and they seem to have made me their unofficial leader. I have no idea why. But now I feel compelled to set an example.”
Travis’s hand slipped under her skirt and ran a thumb along the outside of her right thigh. He decided not to be offended that her reaction was more rapturous than it was during orgasms. “First of all, thirty-one new members?”
“Yes,” she moaned, shifting in his lap to give him better access to her sore muscles. “My sister-in-law led them to believe we were starting a manless utopia. You should all be seriously alarmed how many women showed up.”
He applied more pres
sure to the spot just above her knee, laughing quietly when she went boneless, moaning without shame. “Yeah? I better release a man memo.”
Her eyes sparkled up at him. They were almost enough to make him forget the growing bulge between his legs. Almost. “A man memo? Is that just cave drawings on a napkin?”
“It’s a foolproof code. You’ll never break it.” He slid the hem of her dress higher and began massaging the inside of her thigh. “I take that back. You’re pretty good at making me break codes, aren’t you?”
“I assume you’re talking about the best-friend’s-sister code,” she said breathily.
“The very one,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down the center of her black panties.
“Do you regret it?”
Travis’s throat felt tight. All of him did. “No.”
He’d never been in this place. Torn between aching to fuck and needing to talk. To just . . . hold her. Doing all of those things at the same time seemed like too much. Like they would rip him wide open. So he continued to run his hands over her roughly and breathed. Memorizing the smoothness of her thighs, the dip of her belly, the curve of her hip. He didn’t know how long the touching went on, but eventually Georgie straightened up and stilled his hands with her own. She brought their mouths together for a long, torturous kiss. A slow one. His cock grew thick and pressed up into her backside, but neither of them seemed inclined to give in to the hunger. There was a need inside Travis to prolong the night, to hold time at bay—and the kiss succeeded in doing that. It was wet and endless and left them both shaking by the time they arrived at the sweeping Tudor-style mansion.
Georgie pulled away first, breathing heavily against his lips. “I—I meant to go over everything with you. Who exactly I’m meeting . . . anything I should talk about—”
“We’re having dinner with Kelvin Fisher. His father used to run the network before he retired, and Kelvin has stepped in and started making changes. I’ve never met him. My agent is meeting us here and that windbag never shuts up, but he’s a good buffer.” His hand moved on its own, stroking her hair, her cheek. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just be yourself.” Nothing could stop him from leaning in again and giving her some tongue, deepening the kiss until her ass started to flex in his lap. “Thanks for being here with me, Georgie.”
