Chapter 14
fourteen
Georgia
Hot water rains down on me, washing away the makeup I couldn’t be bothered to remove before my shower.
It had taken me over an hour to apply it before my date, yet I never thought once about Aaron as I swiped on mascara and lined my lips.
I thought about Cash, knowing the whole time he’d have loved my look.
Knowing how beautiful he’d have made me feel.
I try to sort my mess of feelings into coherent thoughts, hoping one will rise to the top and I can decide what to think about Cash and what he did.
About what I did to him, going out with another man after I told him he was the one I want.
But the exercise only makes feelings swirl faster until they’re an indecipherable mess, so I let go and try not to think at all.
I slip into a pink cotton chemise and get into bed, determined not to let my mind stray to memories of Cash’s lips that have lulled me to sleep for eleven nights in a row.
Save for the shadows splashed across the ceiling from the spruce tree outside my window, the house is dark and still. Yet sleep feels hours away. Then my phone lights up on my nightstand, chasing away the darkness, and Cash’s name scrolls across the screen.
I don’t even think about ignoring him, instead swiping to answer before lying back down with it against my ear.
“Hey.” His voice is exactly the comfort I’m craving, so right I could cry. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
“I did.”
“Are you okay?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Tonight was…so much, Cash.”
“I’m sorry. But when I gave you time to think, I didn’t mean ‘please use it to find another man.’ I thought you wanted us. You and I are meant to be together, Georgia. It’s that simple.”
My chest aches. “You can’t say things like that, Cash. It’s absurd.”
“Well, I just did. I’m sick of being told not to feel what I feel. Or that what we’re doing is wrong. Nothing about us is wrong, Georgia. It’s perfect.”
“It is.”
“Good. Then time’s up. We’re putting an end to this secretive bullshit. You can tell Maisy or I can, but she needs to know.”
Exhaustion bears down on me, and I drape my arm over my tired eyes. “I know. I’ll tell her—”
“Tonight. As in right now.”
My eyes fly open. “No. I’m not doing that.”
“Then I will.”
I sit bolt upright, adrenaline dissolving all exhaustion. “I’m not ready for that. We have to talk about this and figure out what makes sense.”
“No we don’t. We’ve talked about it, we know what makes sense. You’re trying to put it off because you’re scared of what she’s going to say, and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be scared, but you don’t need to be. I’m going to take care of this, Georgia, I swear. I’m going to make this work for us.”
“I don’t—what are you going to do?”
“I’m coming over. You can be part of the conversation or not, but I’m telling her.”
My nails dig into my palm, frustration spilling over. “God, when you want something, you don’t give up until you get it, do you?”
“I’m coming, Georgia.” And then there’s silence. He hung up.
My heart beats like a jackhammer in my chest as I call him back, and when he doesn’t answer by the third ring, I jump to my feet.
If Maisy hears me hurrying out at this hour, she’ll come after me, so I’m silent as I rush downstairs.
Slipping into snow boots, I yank my puffy coat off the hook by the door and head out into the night.
Is he walking or driving? Either way, he’ll take the same route, and either way, I can stop him.
The overwhelming sensation of feeling so much that I don’t know how to feel returns.
Panic is the easiest to access, the need to slow this thing down and the anticipation of the fallout if I can’t.
Wonder at Cash’s impulsivity and how he acts on his desire the second he wants something.
But something warm and solid sits deep in my chest at knowing he’s so certain about me.
His belief in us is so beautifully unshakable.
I head north, then at the end of our little street, I turn down the sleepy, tree-lined residential neighborhood that separates my block from Cash’s.
There are no streetlights on this stretch, only the soft glow of porch lights and a few leftover strands of Christmas lights highlighting doorframes and rooflines in bright shades of red, blue, and green.
A light dusting of snow decorates the ground, so recently fallen that not a single footprint or tire mark has marred it yet.
Begging him is the only plan that springs to mind, and the futility of that option sends another pang of anxiety through me. He might listen—for now—but to what end? He’s right. We’re for real.
I spot him before he spots me, and I pick up my pace on the sidewalk, eager to put as much distance as possible between him and his sister.
“Georgia?” His surprise melts into a smile as he looks me over. “Are you out in the snow in a little nightie?”
Glancing down, I realize how ridiculous I must look with my chemise falling to my knees and the rest of my legs exposed. “I guess I am.”
“You left in a hurry, huh?”
“Yes.” I shove him when he tries to reach for me. “And it’s not funny,” I add, even though the way he’s smiling at the sight of me is tempting me to laugh. “This is too much.”
“Telling my sister she’s making two people she claims to care about miserable because of some stupid rule? I wouldn’t call that too much.”
“The whole thing. Showing up at the restaurant, intimidating my date, making me run down the street in the snow to stop you.”
“That? That’s nothing. If you think that’s not the least of what I’d do to get you, maybe I’m not the man for you after all. Because that was nothing compared to how I’ll fight for you, Georgia.”
My insides weaken, exhausted at fighting off the best thing that’s ever waltzed into my life.
“Is that not the kind of man you want?”
Of course not. I’ve never thought about that—never let myself. I’ve only ever thought of myself as being alone, but standing here in front of him, there’s no one else I could want. “I want whatever kind of man you are.”
“And you deserve what you want. You deserve more than a friend who sets rules for you. You deserve home to be more than a coffee shop with a good latte, Georgia.”
A wave threatens to break over me, and I tremble and quake from the intensity. Cash sees too much. “Things are just moving so fast.”
“But can I tell you the truth? They’re not moving fast enough for me. Because I’m certain about us. I know what I feel. And if I had a shred of doubt, it disappeared the second I heard you were out with that dude tonight. Nothing has ever hurt like that did.”
Unable to bear the pain in his eyes, I drop my gaze. “I’m sorry, Cash. That was wrong.”
Taking my cheeks in his hands, he forces me to face the pain and everything else. “No. You don’t apologize for protecting yourself. I take you as you are, Georgia, and I don’t ask you to be sorry for it.”
My lashes flutter closed as a breath whooshes out of me, and I sink into the irresistible comfort of his strong hands against my skin.
His warm mouth covers mine, and I don’t resist. I kiss him as hard as he kisses me, anxious to taste him and find my way back to the bliss that only exists when he’s all around me.
“Georgia,” he whispers, brushing the hair off my face. “You’re cold, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”
The mere suggestion of losing his touch, even for a moment, makes me hungrier for him. “No,” I whisper, finding his mouth again. “Please just keep kissing me.” For now. Forever.
A desperation I’ve never felt pumps through me. I don’t care about home or warmth; I don’t care about Maisy or what happened tonight or what’ll happen tomorrow. All I want is him.
He lets out a raspy breath, like my words sliced right through him, and then he kisses me hard and deep. The force makes me step back into snow-covered grass. Without leaving my lips, he pushes me backward until I’m pressed against someone’s wooden front-yard fence.
“Now show me where you want my hands.”
I make a helpless, questioning noise in my throat.
“I’ve seen you watching me when I work. You’ve thought about my hands on your body.”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Where did my hands touch you?”
I moan, weakening at his words. My hands find his, covering the rough skin with my palms, and the power in them makes desire surge inside me.
The opportunity in front of me feels immense.
And the part of me that always wins out urges me to guide his hands to the safety of my waist, to show him I want him to be a gentleman.
To take it slow with the man I’ve only ever kissed and shouldn’t be kissing at all.
But the Georgia that never fights to get her way is the only one listening tonight.
So I guide his hands over my hips, down my thighs, and under the layers of clothing.
Sucking in a breath at the sensation of his cold fingers and warm palms on my bare thighs, I hold him there.
Excitement floods me at the thought of him touching a place on my body he’s never seen, a place only one man has ever touched before and who certainly didn’t do it while pressing me against a fence on a residential street, where anyone could watch us.
“Here?” His voice is a hungry whisper as he squeezes my thighs, his fingers already warm from the heat radiating off my skin.
I nod eagerly. “And here.” I guide his hands higher until his thumbs settle into the creases of my thighs. The pads of his thumbs make slow, tiny circles over the crotch of the underwear that separates his skin from mine.
“Cotton panties?” He huffs out a breath, lust, pleasure, and amusement wrapped in a single sound. “Fuck. What are you doing to me, Georgia?”
“I was in bed,” I mumble without thinking, but the answer draws a groan out of him like I’ve just sunk him deeper.
He finds my mouth and kisses me hungrily. Between my thighs, his thumbs press harder, seeking more. “Is this where my hands stopped?” he asks against my lips when the kiss ends.