Chapter 14 #2
He stops me, spinning my body in a way that has me suddenly pressed against him, his fingers threading through my hair. “No storms today, baby. Just clouds.” Brody tips my chin upward, his lips pressing to mine.
His kiss is intense, but short, leaving me breathless as he breaks away. He chuckles as I run my fingers along my lower lip.
“Maybe you should come to my room tonight.”
“Maybe,” I say, feeling the heat creep up my neck as we make it to a rental Mercedes that was dropped off earlier for us. He opens the passenger side door for me and helps me inside.
For a second, I imagine what it would be like if this were our life—living together—not just yachting down the coast.
And it feels too good to be true.
Brody jogs around the front of the car and then hops into the driver’s seat. “So, what’s so great about the markets?”
“Well…” My voice trails off as I gather my courage. “I used to go there growing up, and then I guess… I always imagined having my own café one day and going to the markets to find fresh foods for my daily menu.”
He nods, something in his expression softening. “Here,” he reaches into his wallet, and then pulls out his credit card. “Grab all the food you need and feel free to try some new things. I think we can all agree we’re open to trying new things.”
“Thanks,” I take it from him, and he starts the car.
“Anything for you.” He gives me a grin and then pulls out of the parking lot. He turns the radio to a country music station, and we drive with the windows cracked for the next fifteen minutes.
Everything about it is perfection.
“Have a good time,” Brody says as he comes to a stop outside the entrance. He reaches across the console and cups my jaw. With a gentle tug, he brings my mouth to his and gives me a sweet, short kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I finish my errands.”
I kiss his cheek. “Sounds good. I’ll try not to max out your credit card.” I smirk and then push the door open. I slide out and head into the market, the tempting smells making my stomach growl.
Maybe I should’ve eaten a cinnamon roll before I came.
I frown for a moment, but then smile. I’m literally complaining about not eating breakfast. That is my biggest problem right now? To think, a few weeks ago, I was panicking over rent, my credit card, and my shitty job at Macy’s.
Now, I’m just concerned about being hungry and balancing the three men who all want me.
Damn, how things can change.
My eyes scan the booths, taking in the rows of farmers and other small businesses offering their products. I start at the first row and decide to take my time. I stop immediately at a booth with amazing looking seafood.
“It’s all fresh,” the woman says from behind. “We catch it ourselves.”
I nod, leaning over to get a better view of the tuna cuts. “I think I may actually—”
“Georgia?” a very familiar voice cuts me off, and I freeze, my brain refusing to accept who it is.
“I thought you were in Italy?” I choke out, spinning around to see my father, standing a couple of feet away, his arms folded across his chest.
He looks pissed.
“Why have you been ignoring my calls? I’ve been worried about you. And why the hell are you here in Charleston without even bothering to tell me?”
“Um…” I swallow hard. This is bad. This is so bad.
“I’ve been worried sick about you, Georgie,” he adds, his tone still sharp as he takes a step toward me. “What’s going on?”
Just tell him the truth.
“I’m… I’m working.” It’s as close to the truth as I can get right now.
My dad’s face twists, and his six-foot figure towers over me. “You’re working? Why the hell would Macy’s send you to Charleston?”
“I got a new job,” I say carefully, meeting his eyes. “Working as a chef.”
His brows raise, but his expression doesn’t move from interrogation mode. “Why wouldn’t you call and tell me? Do you live here now?” He runs a hand over his face. “I’m so confused.”
“You’re not exactly giving me time to talk, either,” I fire back, and then instantly feel guilty for it. I’m not a child anymore, but I have been dodging him more than I usually do.
“Okay, then let’s talk,” he grits out, reaching out and grabbing my elbow. He guides me out of the market to a patch of trees and a bench. He waves a hand to gesture for me to get on with my explanation.
And I’m fucking terrified.
Alright, Georgia, you can do this. I’m just working for Brody. He doesn’t need to know all the details. That’s none of his business.
The thought gives me the boost of courage I need. “I’ve been working for Brody.”
My dad’s eyes narrow. “Brody? My best friend Brody?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. He came to my birthday party, and then invited me to work as the cook on his yacht for a month.”
“With Emmett and Miles,” my dad says. “Why the fuck would he drag you into that?” The volume of his voice increases, and I cringe.
“The pay is great. I might actually be able to open the café I’ve always wanted to—”
“What is he paying you?” he cuts me off, his eyes boring into me.
Oh shit. “Like two hundred grand.”
“Oh my god,” he stares. “It’s not even a job. It’s a fucking charity case, and based on the way you’ve hidden it from me, I bet there’s a lot more than just some cooking going on, huh?”
My eyes widen, and my lips part, but nothing comes out.
“It’s written all over your face!” he explodes, his voice turning the heads of the people nearby. “What the hell are you thinking, Georgia? You think shacking up with some old guy is the easy way out? How immature, foolish, and just plain desperate could you be? This is embarrassing!”
“Dad, stop,” I plead, my eyes welling up with tears as my heart races in panic. “It’s not… it’s not…” I can’t bring myself to lie, and thankfully, I don’t have to.
“What’s going on?” Brody suddenly appears from the parking lot. His voice is calm, collected, and honestly, the sight of him sends a flood of relief through my chest. “Is there a problem, Robert?”
My dad whirls around. “You’re sleeping with my daughter. That’s the goddamn problem, Brody,” he seethes. “I’m not an idiot, and I thought you were a lot better than that.”
“What are you talking about?” Brody gives him a look.
“You’re my best friend,” my dad exclaims. “And you stabbed me in the back!” He backs away from us and then shakes his head. “I can’t fucking do this right now.”
And with that, he storms back into the parking lot.
The tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t feel sad at all.
I just feel pissed.