4. Georgia
Chapter Four
GEORGIA
“Carl says a storm’s coming. Gonna break up some of this weather. Air like a wet sponge! Thank the Lord, folks will be wilting at the exhibition otherwise. And my petunias surely need it.” Aunt Trish waves her hand in front of her face as we rock slowly back and forth on the porch swing.
“Who’s Carl?” I ask. My body aches from spending the night on my aunt’s uncomfortable sofa bed. She has five cats, who were all delighted to have company and kept pushing the door open to come greet me.
“Oh, he’s a Snowflake fixture alright. Ancient guy who looks like Santa with that big ol’ white beard. Or one of those garden gnomes, I think they call them? Anyway, he’s got a whole side hustle in weather predicting. Got his own spot on the radio now. He’s a grumpy old goat but he’s right more often than he isn’t. Thunder scares me silly, but I’ll welcome the cooler air.”
My phone beeps with a text. A thrill runs through me when I see the name come up.
Declan: How’s your hand, Peaches? I have some news for you.
Georgia: Much better, thank you! Good or bad news?
Declan: My friend Tristan the roofer can meet you up at your place at four this afternoon. That good for you? I’d come too but I’m hauling logs with my cousin today until six.
My heart sinks but I type back quickly.
Georgia: Thank you!
Declan: Let me know what he says, Peaches.
I put my phone down on my lap.
“Declan says the roof guy can come over this afternoon. Could you run me back up the mountain?”
“Sure. Those Connors are good folks, but Declan’s always had a reputation for being a little wild.” She takes a sip of her tea.
My heart sinks a little more. “A womanizer?”
Aunt Trish glances over. “Who knows? I’ve never seen him with a woman. Good-looking man like him must get a lot of attention. But Declan doesn’t play by the rules. Certainly, he’s out on that mountain in all weathers. He had some ruckus with a farmer who was poisoning wildlife, came into Friar’s Bar and hauled him out. Folks said the farmer turned white as a sheet. That guy sold his farm and moved away not long after. So he’s a fierce one. Maybe it’s the military background.”
I nod. “He said he and his brother were both in service.”
“That’s right. I believe he’s got a bunch of medals, too. Don’t know what for. Are you interested in him? I saw the way he looked at you when he drove you out here yesterday.”
“I don’t have boyfriends, Aunt Trish.”
She smiles and pats my hands. “You’re a beauty, Georgia. Even though you dress sorta old-fashioned. Could have anyone you wanted if you let them in. And that Declan’s a handsome man.”
“He’s older than me.” I’m looking for an excuse to shut this conversation down.
“So’s Uncle Bill. Never got in our way.”
I stand. “Let me hem those curtains for you before I go. We can pre-make those salads for your event tomorrow. And I need to get that cake out of the oven, too.”
After Aunt Trish takes me back to the cabin, I organize all my sewing stuff in the living room and put the cake in the kitchen. The damaged roof is right over my bed, so I scoot the bedframe away in case the storm my aunt mentioned hits soon. The air is still, the sky bright blue and all that storm talk seems ridiculous.
A scuttling sound has my heart beating faster for a second, but then Albert sticks his furry snout in the window.
“Hi, trouble. Will you promise to stay out of my trash?” I ask. I walk out to the back door to see what he’s doing.
The raccoon makes a chattering sound, yawns, and then curls up with his legs out in front of him. The porch looks different. I can’t put my finger on why until I spot the paint can and clean brushes neatly stacked in the corner.
It's finished. All the painting, which would have taken me at least a day to complete, is done.
A thrill runs through me. Did Declan do this? I pick up my phone and then put it down again. What if it wasn’t him? Albert makes a half-groaning, half-snoring noise and I giggle.
“Was it you , little guy?” I ask, sitting down next to him on the porch. “Declan said you were smart.”
He opens one eye and then closes it again. He’s completely relaxed with me out here. Declan must have taken good care of him when he was a baby.
The big woodsman is kind, I can tell that, despite what Aunt Trish said about his wildness. Maybe he’s some big player and finishing the painting is a ruse to soften me up? Arranging for my roof to be fixed, too; I need to be careful. He has an effect on me that’s so intense, it makes me feel almost drunk.
A truck beeps its horn as it turns into my driveway. Smoothing my sleeves down, I get up, shading my eyes against the sun.
The roofer, Tristan, looks a little like a surfer dude and has the same laid-back vibe. It takes him a while, so I finish off the hem of a satin robe I’ve been working on. Albert is still snoring outside.
Tristan knocks on the door and I let him in.
He shakes his head, his face stern. “Sorry, Georgia, but you’re going to have to go back to your Aunt’s tonight. This isn’t safe. And that big storm Carl’s predicting could hit tonight or tomorrow. You don’t want to be here until I’ve fixed it up.”
“Are you sure? I moved my stuff into the living room.”
“Yes. I’ll get started right away but it won’t be done for a couple of days. I’ll try and make it watertight first.”
As Tristan gets a ladder from his truck, I pack my suitcase and load up my car. I carefully put the coffee cake on the front seat and then walk back to give Tristan a set of keys.
Maybe I’m overstepping, but I want to give Declan something to say thank you for helping me. As I drive up the mountain to his place, an excited chattering noise from the back seat almost makes me swerve off the road. Albert is standing with his paws on the back seat, looking out of the window.
I shake my head. I can’t believe the raccoon is using me as a taxi service to get home.
When I arrive at Declan’s cabin, his truck is in the driveway but there’s no response when I knock on the door. Clutching the cake, I walk around to the back door to find somewhere to leave the cake. I should have texted to let him know I was coming.
A rhythmic sound draws my attention. Declan is at the far side of his yard. His shirt is off and he’s chopping wood.
I stop walking.
The impact of the axe hitting the wood, then the crack as it splits apart is hypnotic. But more mesmerizing is the big woodsman himself, with his shirt off and sweat running down his back. His muscles are corded from his massive shoulders down, his legs spread as he expertly deals with each piece.
I try to say hello, but a strange squeaky noise emerges from my mouth. Even though his back is to me, he pauses and then turns around. A broad grin breaks across his face and he sets the axe down, then strides towards me.
I’m almost dizzy, my eyes popping at this bare-chested, bearded, ruggedly masculine vision walking over to me. I bite my lip, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Peaches! What’ve you got in your hands?”
I’m clutching the box so hard that I hope I haven’t damaged the cake. “I made you some coffee cake. To say thank you for helping me out.”
“Now that’s kind of you. Come inside and have a slice with me?” Declan takes the box and walks in front of me to the house. I gawk at the muscles in his back, drinking in his scent.
“How did you know I was here before I said anything?”
“Your scent. I was a tracker in the army. And working in the woods has given me a sixth sense. But I always think I’d know if you were around.” He glances back at me, holding the door open.
Walking into the coolness of his house, I relax a little. “Albert hitched a ride over with me. He disappeared up a tree when I arrived.”
“He’s a smart one. Knows it’s too hot to be doing much else than relaxing. I would too, but I needed to let off some steam. And I wanted to ask you something.” Declan slices the cake and brings it over, along with a pitcher of lemonade.
I gulp the sweet lemonade. “What’s that?”
“Tomorrow there’s an event at Peppermint Lodge. It’s that big ol’ place as you drive up the mountain from town. Some of my repurposed carvings and furniture are on display there as part of the owner’s exhibition. Would you be my date?” He sits down next to me.
“Oh…I…wasn’t expecting that. You’ve been really kind to me, but…”
“I’m too old and grizzly for you?” He winks.
I laugh. “I just…haven’t dated much.”
He nods. “Well, shall we go as friends?”
I gaze at him. My core clenches and a shiver runs down my spine, despite the sultry heat. I shake my head. “I’d love to be your date.”
“Tristan texted me, said you’d be staying at your aunt’s place until the roof was fixed. Shall I come get you there?”
“I’ll catch a ride with her, she’s doing some of the food for the exhibition.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
I can’t look away from his eyes. The stillness, apart from the gently rotating fan, is intimate. I’m leaning into him, like he’s a magnet and he’s pulling me closer.
He picks up my bandaged hand. “Does it still hurt?”
I shake my head. He raises it to his lips and gently kisses my knuckles, his beard brushing against my skin.
I suck my breath in as he kisses my hand again, his bright blue eyes never leaving mine. His fingers brush from my ear down to my jaw as my heart hammers in my ears, my forehead damp. The fan’s soft whirring and my breathing are the only sounds as he leans down and kisses me.
Every nerve in my body lights up as his lips move on mine. I press my thighs together, my panties damp and my core on fire. His thick beard tickles my face as his tongue explores my mouth, his hand cradling my jaw. My nipples are hard points and I moan, craving his touch. His hand moves to my blouse, slipping between the thick cotton and my neck.
I pull away. Shaking my head, I stand. I’m a little unsteady on my feet and he rises to hold my shoulders.
“I’m sorry. I need some time. I thought I was ready, but–”
“Don’t you apologize, Peaches! You take the time you need.”
I grimace. “Do we still have a date?”
His face breaks into that joyful grin.
“You bet we do.”