90. George #2
The parlor door opened, and Viola and Jacob ambled out arm in arm. I immediately dropped Sarah’s hand and lifted my arm from her shoulders to the back of the couch. I plastered an innocent look on my face as if I’d been caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.
Viola noticed us and rushed over. “Good morning, you two.”
I raised a brow, and Jacob gave a slight shake of his head.
Sarah hopped up and clasped Viola’s forearms. “You’ll never guess.
Mother said I can go to Minnesota for Christmas!
” The two of them bounced up and down. At least they refrained from squealing.
I stepped beside Jacob, and we laughed at their joy.
Viola winked at me. What was that all about? She pulled Sarah away. “We have loads to plan. See you boys at dinner.” And with that, they dashed up the steps and, unless I was mistaken, sprinted full speed down the upstairs hall to Viola’s room.
“Jacob, my friend, any news?” I clapped him on the shoulder, remembering to avoid his ribs.
“She’s not ready. Not yet. But I’m encouraged and remain hopeful.”
“Best of luck to you. She’s a stubborn one, you know?”
He smiled. “I’m aware.” He glanced over at the couch. “You two looked cozy. Is that…?”
“Oh, what? Sarah and me? Nah, we’re good friends. Been through a lot.” I ignored an exasperating tickle in the back of my mind. Of course she was my friend—my dearest friend.
Jacob smirked. “Right.”
“You leaving tomorrow?”
“Need to get home to my family, prove to them I’m still in one piece.”
I glanced toward the stairs. “We’ll be a few days behind you.
” I rubbed a hand across my face and caught a hint of almonds.
“I’m looking forward to spending the holidays out in your neck of the woods.
What could be better?” A true country Christmas with cozy quarters and absolutely nothing to worry about.
Igazed across the street at the incandescent entrance to the Palmer House for a long moment before entering my club, but saw only the sparkling hazel eyes of the woman who had walked through that door on my arm two nights ago.
I found Buddy in the back card room, and I sauntered over to watch him play a round of twenty-one, drink in hand.
I peered over his shoulder. “By thunder, Buddy—hitting on nineteen? That is bold, even for me.” I swirled the amber fluid in my glass.
“Georgie.” He smirked back at me. “I have a new strategy. See?” He pointed to a penny sitting face up on the table. “Heads is hit, tails is stay.”
I scoffed. “How’s that working out for you?”
He threw an arm over the back of the chair and turned fully toward me. “Did you bewitch those pennies? Am I meddling with secret spells or some other devilry?”
The dealer said, “Five in a row so far, sir.” He flipped an ace. Buddy stood on twenty and won the round. If only luck would grant me a winning streak… though what prize dare I hope for?
Buddy studied me. “You don’t look like a wizard.” He waved a hand vaguely about his head. “Except maybe the hair.”
“Hilarious.” I might have raked a bit aggressively. Knightley probably woke up with perfect hair. Probably carried a comb.
He squinted at me. “Ah. Your pensive face. What is weighing on that bit of fluff you call a brain?” I scowled.
Buddy tossed a tip to the dealer, collected his lucky penny and drink, and herded me to a sitting area in the back corner.
He settled into a chair and twirled his finger in the air.
“All right, Georgie. I’m listening. Spill it. ”
I slumped into the chair opposite him and stared into my drink, elbows on my knees. “It’s like my costume… I’m a lone wolf.” But the words sounded ridiculous, even to me.
“Mmm. So not a wizard—a wolf.”
I took a long swallow. “I kiss them a few times and send them off before they get ideas.”
Buddy smirked. “I’m familiar with your typical behavior.”
“But this is something else. I’m going to mess it all up.” My jaw tightened.
“What, your hair?” He pulled a face. “Too late, my friend.”
I shook my head. “My friendship.” I took another sip. The word didn’t seem big enough. Scotch landed warm in my stomach, but a different heat rose to my face. Buddy waited for me to continue. “With Sarah.”
He rubbed his chin. “Goldilocks is important to you, then. Not another short-term fling?”
“Not a fling at all. We’re friends… just good friends.”
Buddy shifted forward. “How, pray, are you messing that up?”
I hung my head. Just say it. “I kissed her.” Lips warm in the snow… so perfect in my arms.
He scoffed. “How’s that working out for you?”
“I lost myself in the moment. Lost control, but only for a minute. And then I apologized.”
Buddy’s belly laugh echoed loud enough to turn nearby heads. Excellent. Nothing like a bit of public humiliation. “Let me get this straight,” Buddy said. “You’re friends. But you kissed her. And then you told her you were sorry that you kissed her?”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I’m an idiot.”
“Georgie, you’re right. You are doing a thorough job of messing it up.”
“Agh.”
“You care about her feelings?”
“Yes.”
“Worry about what she thinks of you?”
“Yes.”
“Want to spend time with her?”
I nodded.
“Think about her when she’s not around?”
I nodded again.
“Want to kiss her?”
“Obviously.”
Buddy clapped me on the shoulder. “My friend, you have all the signs.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
Buddy lounged back in his chair, looking pleased as punch. “Never thought I would see the day…”
“What are you yammering on about?”
“You know what this means?” His smile widened. “Georgie, you are in love.”
For a heartbeat, my every thought, breath, pulse froze.
Then my stomach dropped like a stone into deep water.
It couldn’t be. I was catastrophically unprepared.
“Shh. Not so loud.” I glanced around, but no one seemed to have noticed his proclamation.
I pitched my voice low. “I can’t be in love.
Don’t know how to do that.” Love was for competent people.
People who didn’t have to apologize for their kisses.
“Good news, my friend. It doesn’t matter if you know how. Love isn’t a skill—it’s a revelation.” Buddy leaned forward to whisper, “Whether you like it or not… welcome to the club.”
“But I don’t know how to make it last. Better to be her long-term friend than a… a fling.”
Buddy formed his fingers into a steeple and regarded me for long moments before speaking. “Maybe you don’t know how to make it last, because until now, you were not with the right person. Wasn’t so much a lack of knowledge as a lack of the proper raw materials.”
“But I’m not with anybody.”
Buddy raised a brow. “Right.”
I groaned. “And she’s coming along to Minnesota with my family—for Christmas.” I tossed back the rest of my drink, the liquid scalding down my throat. “Two weeks of constantly reining in my impulses.” Snow and almond-scented hair and warm fires… I was doomed.
He said, “Think about sardines.”
“Disgusting.”
“Exactly. Sardines should break the mood if you are feeling especially, ah, impulsive.”
“Thanks for the advice, old friend. It’s crazy enough to work.” I laughed but it came out with a hysterical edge. “I loathe sardines. Who knew romance’s greatest enemy was canned fish?”
Buddy shot me a grin. “I’m a relationship genius. Plus, there’s always plan B.”
“Plan B?” This had better not be swowing.
“Don’t rein in your impulses. Instead, find a cozy hidey-hole for some choice canoodling. But, for the love of Pete, Georgie, do not, under any circumstances, apologize afterward!”