Chapter 13 #2
“Things are fine between us. Whatever’s going on here tonight, it’s a mistake. So where’s her table?”
She snorts. “Cash, I’m not interested in being the reason you make a scene and embarrass her. She’s too sweet.”
“When have I ever made a scene?”
“It would be faster if I named all the times you didn’t make a scene.”
“Or I can prowl the restaurant like a weirdo until I find her. Can you save me ten seconds and just point her out?”
She gives a big, dramatic sigh. “Back left corner, second table from the wall.”
I peer over her shoulder. A single man occupies the table in question, his back facing me, and Georgia is nowhere to be seen.
My blood pulses in my veins at the sight of the guy’s head, at the idea that if he gets his way, Georgia’s fingers will be twisted in his hair by the end of the night. “What’s he like?” I ask Jade.
She seems unsurprised. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to be nice?”
“I didn’t know you were capable of the latter,” I tease, trying to soften her.
“He’s cute. Polite. Clearly very into Georgia. He’s not the greatest running back Shafer’s ever seen, but I like him.”
I swallow. “Does she?”
For the first time, she hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m not sure. Georgia’s hard to read.”
Not for me. I know my girl. But the possibility that she might feel a shred of interest for any man other than me is unbearable. “Does she look at him like she looks at me?”
It’s not often I see Jade soften, but she does now. “No.”
That’s all I need to hear. “Thanks,” I say and give her a nod. Time to get my girl.
I expect Jade to call after me and warn me not to do anything stupid as I stride across the restaurant, but she lets me go. She must approve of my methods.
I ease down into the seat across from my only enemy, throwing my elbow up on the chair casually. “What’s up?”
The guy stares at me while I look him over. He’s not a small dude, but it’s obvious he doesn’t spend twelve hours in the gym and dozens more on a football field every week.
“Having a nice night?” I ask when he still hasn’t spoken.
“Uh…do I know you?”
“Not a Shafer fan, huh? Too bad. No, you don’t know me.”
Still wide-eyed, Georgia’s date looks over each of his shoulders like he expects to find an explanation as to why some random dude has crashed his date.
“Thing is,” I say when he faces me again, “I know you.”
At this, he leans back an inch or two, squaring his shoulders.
“You’re the guy who’s out on a date with my future wife.”
His body stiffens, but his expression makes up for it, transforming as surprise takes over. “What the—”
“Cash?”
I lift my head to find Georgia staring down at me, as wide-eyed as her date.
One glimpse of her in her pale-pink skirt and low-cut black cardigan, her makeup and hair perfect—the lost look in her eyes the only thing out of place—and the guy in front of me is forgotten because here she is.
My girl. And I need to tell her something.
“Georgia,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “Honey, I—”
“You’re engaged?” her date demands, and I swivel toward him, hating his tone of voice.
Georgia’s beautiful blues fill with confusion, and then she shoots me an accusatory look. “Excuse me?”
“Did I say engaged?” I growl to her date.
“You said she’s your future fucking wife,” he says with a short, bitter laugh.
I meet Georgia’s expression, a blend of shock, confusion, and irritation, but I swear I catch a glimmer of amusement too. Giving her a sheepish smile, I shrug. “I couldn’t lie.”
In the silence that follows, I realize half the restaurant is staring at us, which I like and would probably love if I wasn’t certain Georgia absolutely hated it.
Her date stands, his cloth napkin balled in one fist. “Is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on?”
“Aaron, I’m so sorry. I’ll explain, just give me a sec.” Georgia touches his chest, and possessiveness surges through me. Then she turns to me, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She pushes past me toward the front of the restaurant, and I know I’m expected to follow.
As soon as we reach the privacy of the front lobby, she turns on her heel and glares at me. “What are you thinking showing up here like this?” she demands.
“I’ve made no secret of what I’m thinking when it comes to you.” I reach for her hand, my heart stumbling when she pulls away.
“You have to leave. This is too much.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“No. You’re not allowed to do this.”
“To do what? I can’t protect what’s mine?”
“I’m not yours, Cash!”
A dark feeling overtakes me, and Maisy’s words fill my head.
What if I’ve got Georgia all wrong? What if she really doesn’t feel it for me?
“Don’t say that. You are mine.” My fists clench with the effort not to reach for her again.
“Georgia, you are everywhere. Inside me, all over me. My eyes, my ears, my brain. All I see is you, all I hear is your voice, all I smell is your skin. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but you’ve infiltrated every last piece of me.
How are you going to tell me you’re not mine?
You’re in me, Georgia, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. ”
The shine of tears in her eyes cuts right through me, shredding my insides to pieces and building them right back up because it tells me she knows.
She feels it too, and she wants this. Yet when I take her hand in mine, she allows it for only a second before she untangles her fingers and pushes me away.
Her gaze has iced over, and she steps closer so our bodies are inches apart.
Despite the fact she has to lift her chin to meet my eye—and that I have several inches and a few dozen pounds on her—it’s intimidating.
“I’m not going to say one more word about us,” she says tightly.
“Not here and not now. You want a chance with me, Cash? Then leave.” She flicks her gaze toward the door behind me. “Now.”
Oof. So the hard side of Georgia finally shows its sexy little face.
I shouldn’t be turned on, but I am. “If that’s what you want.
You know nothing matters more to me than what you want.
” I take a step back. “But fuck that dude. You’re mine, and you always were.
And tonight, after you’ve gotten rid of him and you’re all alone and you definitely don’t have a man in bed with you, we’re going to talk. ”
I wait for her to walk back to her date, but she stands her ground, so I turn and head out the doors.
Because that’s what she wants me to do, even if it kills me.
Just for now, I can walk away from her and let her handle her shit.
After this moment, though, we’re in it together.
She wants me, she’ll have me. If she wants anything, I’m making sure she gets it. Her problems are mine.
And so is she.