Chapter 20
The updo she’d worn last night was staging a rebellion.
Mascara, when left unsupervised overnight, turns into football warpaint.
And, when doing the stumble-of-shame, one should avoid sneaking into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Especially when one might come face to face with the gray-haloed gossip grenade—Meemaw Joy.
Unfortunately for Georgia, Joy was sitting at the table, giving her a box seat view to her questionable decisions from last night, showcased by a crooked silk dress, a missing earring, and hair that now resembled something between a squirrel’s nest and a cautionary tale.
“Well, someone’s up early,” Joy said, her honey-thick drawl dripping from a Cheshire smile. “Or maybe you still have yet to get some shut-eye.”
“I had too much to drink,” Georgia said, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Makes sense.”
“How?” Georgia clutched one shoe to her chest as if that would ward off the embarrassment—that she was certain was eternal.
“You look like sin and smell of regret.”
Georgia wasn’t sure if she regretted last night—she was still riding the high of three orgasms. Because Jake took his “Every Time” moniker very seriously.
“Maybe I was just slinking in from the party.”
“Then why did it sound like someone, or someones, shattered the Sheetrock last night?”
Georgia swallowed her guilt so fast she nearly choked on it.
“Mm-hmm.” Joy’s gaze made a circle encompassing Georgia’s face.
There was no point in trying to hide the evidence.
The smudge of lipstick or the love-bite on her collarbone, which was peeking out like it had paid rent.
Even more damning was the satisfied look of a good roll in the hay that she couldn’t hide.
“I don’t think Cover Girl makes that exact shade of blush. It looks more like my grandson’s work.”
Georgia considered bolting for the nearest exit and running back to Austin in her five-inch heels.
“I was just—” She gestured vaguely toward the coffeepot. And, as if she weren’t in last night’s dress, opened up the cupboard to fetch a mug. “You know, just looking for a pick-me-up before I go for a run.”
“Lying to your elder is rude. Lying days before Christmas? Now, that will get you on the Naughty List.”
Georgia considered continuing the ruse, then admitted to herself there was no recovering from this. Ignoring the sound of her self-respect as it sped off down the road without her, she slunk into the chair across from Joy.
“I didn’t sleep in my own bed.”
Joy’s conspiratorial smile made her eyes twinkle. “Don’t worry, honey. I did the walk of shame back when it was still called ‘leaving early to make it church on time.’ You just keep your chin high and your bra in your purse like a lady.”
Georgia crossed her arms over the girls. “What makes you think I’m not wearing a bra?”
“You wouldn’t be walkin’ like that, trying to hide the swing.”
A laugh slipped past Georgia’s lips, half-choked and wholly uninvited. “Is this the part where you warn me off your grandson?”
“Now why would I do that? I can already picture how pretty my great-grandbabies will be.”
This time her choke nearly suffocated her. “Great-grandbabies?”
“Can’t you just picture a little Jake racing around the farm?”
Georgia could and that was another big problem. She wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. Connor’s condition was hereditary, and she didn’t want to risk putting another soul through that kind of pain and suffering. She wasn’t sure she could live through that again.
Plus, she’d already spent her younger years living for someone else.
She wanted to spend the rest of them living for herself.
And that wasn’t a possibility with kids.
Don’t get her wrong, she loved kids. That’s why she’d devoted her life to helping them.
But she was able to put down the case file at night and go home.
She could turn off the emotions as needed.
“Does Jake want kids?” she asked and nearly kicked herself. She already knew the answer to that question. She’d known it since that day in the library when they’d met.
“He’s always wanted kids. And if anyone should be a dad it’s him.”
“He’d raise good humans,” she agreed, her words thick in her throat. Which was ridiculous. They’d had sex last night. Okay, they’d had sex three times last night. That didn’t mean they were getting married by any means.
They hadn’t even talked about if there would be a next rodeo, let alone a future. Besides, her future was already full, and it didn’t leave room for man who could derail her dreams.
“Strictly judging by how my grandson is around you, you’re meant to be a mama. The caretaker in you is about as obvious as grits on a breakfast plate.”
“I’ve been a caretaker my whole life and while I’d never change a moment of it, I’m ready for some time to care for myself.”
Nine years later, her heart was still mending from the loss of the three most important people in her world. It was like some sick joke that the universe had played on her. One after the other.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Within twenty-four hours, she’d gone from a life full of love to one of empty agony.
“Maybe what you need is someone who will take care of you.”
Georgia snorted. “I’d rather take care of myself than inevitably be let down.”
Joy reached a hand across the table and rested it on Georgia’s. “Like I said the other day, maybe you just haven’t met the right person.”
“I thought I had once, but it didn’t work out.”
“Maybe it was the right person, but the wrong time.”
“Maybe,” she said, but didn’t mean it. They’d given into temptation last night. Allowed the romance of the evening to cloud their rational decision making. But that didn’t change the facts.
Georgia and Jake were absolutely wrong for each other. Period. End of story.
As if the universe wasn’t finished with the tattered threads of her dignity, soft footsteps sounded from behind her.
“Georgia?” Jake’s voice was sleep-roughened and caused her lady parts to perk back up. “You here?”
Georgia’s head dropped back on a groan.
Joy chuckled. “She sure is. Lookin’ like the cover model from Bless Her Heart magazine.”