Chapter 8 Emmett
Emmett
“This is amazing,” I say, popping the last bite of crab into my mouth. “Like holy shit, Georgia.” I peer up at where she’s seated, staring down at her own untouched plate.
She brings her eyes up to meet mine in a brief smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks. I’m sorry it was late. It took me way too long to get it right.”
“Worth it,” Miles comments, stabbing his fork into his own crab cake. “This might be my favorite meal yet.”
“You say that every time,” I joke, rolling my eyes. “It’s getting old. You need to come up with a new compliment for our amazing chef.”
Brody lets out a grunt, and I raise my brows at him. He’s acted like he’s got a stick up his ass all fucking day. It’s grinding on my nerves. This is supposed to be a break from people and all their shitty attitudes.
Not an entrapment with a miserable asshole.
“I’m glad you guys are happy with my dinners,” Georgia says, her tone sweet and soft, but also lacking its usual fervor.
Something is wrong.
My eyes bounce between both Brody and Georgia—and I’m not an idiot. There’s something off in their dynamic. It’s like they’re avoiding acknowledging each other’s existence.
Well, Brody is anyway. Georgia continues to steal glances at him.
What happened? I purse my lips and scoop up a bite of the rice, watching the two of them carefully. The journalist in me wants to press and get to the bottom of it.
But that’s never a good idea.
“Are we going to have any more bad weather?” I ask Brody, as I swallow my food and reach for my wine. “I saw on the news there might be something further down the coast.”
“It’ll be fine,” Brody snaps, setting his fork down. It clatters against the plate, and I glance at Miles as Georgia cringes.
The expression he gives me tells me he’s not oblivious to any of this either.
“Well, that’s good. That storm we had last night—”
“Was nothing,” Brody cuts me off, shoving his chair back from the table and standing.
Well then, okay, Mr. Asshole.
Georgia lets out a little squeak and the closer I look, the more I see the moisture brimming in her pretty blue eyes.
And I don’t like that at all.
What the fuck did you do, Brody?
“It would be nice if we could stick to the schedule of meals,” Brody announces as he drops his plate into the sink, causing another obnoxious banging noise.
Is he seriously throwing a tantrum right now over dinner time?
Georgia turns slightly in her chair, meeting his gaze. “I’m really sorry. I know it was late by an hour… I didn’t—”
“You should plan your time accordingly.” His tone is sharp enough that even Miles lets out a cough.
Georgia’s reaction is subtle, but I know what’s about to happen. I have enough sisters that I’ve watched it a million times. She claps her hand over her mouth and stifles a cry and swallows the urge. Carefully, she stands from her seat and then takes her own plate to the kitchen.
“I’ll keep that in mind moving forward,” she mutters, giving him a nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” The words are anything but full of gratitude.
With that, Georgia gets busy cleaning up, Brody disappears outside, and Miles slips out to the main deck to work on a new case of his.
I turn to Georgia. “Can I help you clean up tonight?”
She shakes her head, not looking up from washing dishes. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.” I don’t want to put too much pressure on her, but on the other hand, it’s killing me to see her on the verge of losing it. She’s stuck at sea with a bunch of guys and has zero support.
“I’m sure.” Her response is terse, and so I let it go, finishing my own dinner.
Once I’m done, I stand up and bring my plate over. She holds out a hand for it, avoiding my eyes by staring at my nose. Normally, I might make a joke about it. But tonight? No. Not with Georgia.
I don’t want to do anything to make it harder on her. I back away from her and then find a book on the shelf, carrying it back to the couch in the lounge. I think about going outside instead.
But I don’t want to leave her alone.
I stare at the pages of the nonfiction historical novel, not really reading it. Instead, I sit there as the minutes pass by, and Georgia just keeps cleaning. Finally, when she’s wiping down the table, the lounge door opens again.
And in comes Brody.
I shift on the couch, unsure if he even knows that I’m sitting here.
“I want to change the menu for tomorrow,” Brody’s voice is still sharp.
Georgia straightens, clinging to the dish towel like it might save her. “Of course, just let me know what you’d like.”
“I think you should take the day off, get yourself together, and then come back. I don’t want your emotions affecting your ability to be punctual.”
Wow, what a fucking asshole.
“They won’t…”
“They clearly have. We’ll have cereal in the morning, sandwiches for lunch, and then leftovers for dinner,” Brody’s voice is sharp. “Good night, Georgia.”
He storms out, not even catching my gaze as he passes. I watch him go, and as soon as the door slams, I turn back to Georgia. Her lower lip trembles, and then she suddenly drops the dish towel to the table, disappearing out to the front of the boat.
Oh shit.
I hear the sob echo behind her, and I’m on my feet before she can even manage to make it out there. “Georgia!” I call after her, sliding out to where she’s getting settled, her head against her hands.
“Just go away,” she cries into her hands, resting against the railing.
“No… I’m not going to do that.” I soften my voice and take a seat next to her. “How could I with a view like this?” I gently nudge her and then gesture out to the moonlight, glimmering on the calm waves. “It’s almost as beautiful as you.”
Georgia lifts her eyes to look at me. “You’re just being nice because I’m upset.”
“I mean, maybe a little,” I admit, chuckling and setting my book down beside me. “But also, Brody was a total dick to you, and you’re way too good at what you do to let him get to you.”
She shakes her head. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say, keeping my tone careful. “But you know, not everything has to be complicated. You can choose to just chalk Brody up to being an asshole, and not give it anymore thought than that. Some guys are just jerks.”
She lets out a light laugh, wiping the tears from her cheeks and finally meeting my eyes. “I think most guys are probably jerks.”
“From my experience, I have to admit that I agree with you.”
Georgia shakes her head at me, her ponytail bouncing against her shoulders. “I’m not sure that’s making me feel that much better.”
“Fair,” I say, reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone. “But do you wanna see something that might make you feel better?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “As long as it’s not a dick pic, then yes.”
I burst into laughter. “No worries, I will definitely not be showing you dick pics. That would be entirely unproductive when you’re right here in person to see it.” I shoot her a wink, and that gets a real giggle out of her.
I scroll to my photo gallery on my phone and then pass it to her. “Recently, I went to Paris, and I found this tiny corner café. It reminds me of the kind of food you make. I loved it so much, I went every day.”
Georgia takes the phone from me and starts flipping through the pictures.
“It’s so quaint, but also lovely.” She lets out a sigh.
“That’s the kind of place I’ve always wanted to have, you know?
I always wanted to grow up and have my own restaurant—like this.
” She takes in the small sitting area and the baguette in the picture. “It just feels so homey.”
“Well, not a lot about Paris is homey for me,” I chuckle. “But I have to agree with you. This place was something straight out of the movies. I loved it.”
“Maybe I’ll go there someday.” Her voice brightens, and her pretty blue eyes follow suit. “That would be a really fun trip. I’ve never been to Paris. My dad has gone quite a few times, but never took me with him.”
“Yeah, that seems to be a recurring theme for Robert. He likes to do things his way and only his way.”
“Exactly,” she blows out a breath, and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, turning her attention to me. “Thank you for following me out here. I had no idea how much I needed a good laugh.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I pat her hand where it rests on the railing. “I don’t ever want to see you cry.” A soft smile tugs at my lips, despite the words feeling pretty foreign. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who chases down a teary-eyed woman and tries to make her feel better.
But Georgia isn’t exactly just any woman either—even if I’m still trying to figure out the why behind that.
“What time is it?” Her question breaks into my thoughts, and I click the screen of my phone to light it back up.
“Almost ten. I bet Miles and Brody are already passed out,” I say, my shoulders falling. “You wanna split a bottle of wine?”
“I don’t know…” Her voice trails off. “I don’t want to do anything that might piss Brody off. He already forced me to take tomorrow off.”
“Well,” I nudge her, “First of all, it’s my bottle of wine, and if I want to share it with you, I will. And secondly, you have a day off tomorrow, which is absolutely a reason to stay up late, enjoy the wine, and have a few laughs with me.”
She presses those plump lips together, causing my dick to twitch to life. “Well… I guess you have a point.”
“Perfect,” I grin. “I’ll be right back.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m sipping my wine and watching Georgia in total awe. There’s just something about her, and I can’t exactly put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the way she looks out on the dark water with a respectful admiration.
Or maybe it’s the three glasses of wine I’ve had over dinner and now this.
“You know…” Georgia lets out a sigh, swallowing the wine in her mouth. “I really appreciate this opportunity, even if it’s not going exactly the way that I want it to.”