Chapter Six #3
A look of shock twists her expression.
Shock at what? That I’m talking to her?
I glance away, forcing my features into something bland and disinterested, because no one’s more shocked than me.
The hell was that?
Georgia makes some kind of grumbling, irritated sound that I expertly ignore.
“I’ve lived all over, but spent the last ten or so years in New York.” Another smile, but this one feels all wrong. “South Dakota is just another stop on the map.”
“Won’t be here long?” my mom cuts in, sounding genuinely sad.
Georgia shakes her head. “My contract’s only for six months, unfortunately.”
I scoff. She’s probably just here on some city-girl vacation, chasing her Pinterest dream of touching real grass. We get tourists like that every summer—roll in for the season, then disappear before the first snow hits the ground.
“Well, you should come out to the farm sometime soon, then,” Mom coos. “The wildflowers will be blooming soon. Not something you wanna miss.”
My stomach drops. What the fuck is she doing?
“Farm?” Georgia repeats, tilting her head.
“Been in the Archer family over a hundred years,” Mom says proudly. “Out past the ridge. We farm honey, wild flowers, and wheat in the summer. You can even feed the animals. Do you like animals, Georgia?”
“You’d hate them,” I cut in, tugging my hat off. I grip my hair, yank on it, and shove my hat back on. “They’re big, dirty and smelly.”
“What, like you?” she fires right back, then pauses to pointedly sniff me. “At least you’re sober today.”
I step forward, my hackles higher than corn in the summer. “Look. If you—”
“Do you knit?” Mom interrupts, shoving me back.
Georgia laughs, the sound so soft, it curls around me. “No, but I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“Well, that settles it.” Mom grabs her hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You can come to our knitting club. Everyone’s inside.”
I gawk. “I thought only members were allowed!”
Mom waves me off. “I meant you’re not allowed.”
What. The. Fuck.
Georgia opens her mouth, likely to accept the invitation and destroy what’s left of my sanity, but to my shock, she pulls her hand back gently.
“Unfortunately, I can’t. I have to work.”
“What did you say you do for work, dear?”
I freeze.
Georgia hesitates just long enough to make my pulse spike. “I’m a social worker.”
“How did you two meet?” Mom frowns slightly, eyes flicking between us. “Kade barely leaves his crap-hole. Not many places to run into a sweet girl like you when he’s dealing with the termites and all.”
Panic flares, too hard and fast to even defend myself.
“If you have to work,” I cut in, my tone bordering on feral, “maybe you should go do that.” Jaw pulsing, I grit, “ Now .”
Don’t say it . My stare begs her. Please, don’t tell her.
Her lips curve up in a grin so smug it should be illegal.
She opens her mouth again and turns her full body to face my meddling mother.
I lunge.
It’s all instinct and my dwindling will to survive that propels me into action. I wrap a hand around Georgia Walker’s annoying, big mouth, dragging her into my chest, and start to haul her away.
I’m gentle—aware enough to avoid getting arrested, but also crazed enough to toss her over my shoulder if she starts to struggle.
“What do you say, darlin’ ?” I drawl just to piss her off. “Let’s go get you a new coffee since you tripped and spilled that first one all over me. We can talk about dry cleaning bills while we’re at it.”
“Kade?” my mom cries. “Kade! What on Earth are you doing to that poor girl?”
“She’s fine!” Pausing, I toss her my keys with one hand and a smile that got me out of trouble too many times growing up. “Get your smelly nutjob of a dog out of my truck before he shits again, Ma.”
“Say please, Kade Archer!” she yells at the same moment Georgia peels my hand away and hisses, “Don’t swear at your mother, asshole!”
Christ, these women are killing me.
“Please,” I growl over my shoulder, before lowering my voice in Georgia’s ear. “If you open that pretty mouth and say one more word, sweetheart, I swear I’ll find a way to shut you up.”
I’m pleasantly surprised when she goes still in my arms. Even more shocked at the shiver that wracks her muscles. I do all I can to ignore the way she feels tucked into me, all soft and small, her head barely reaching my shoulder.
And she smells damn fine. Something sweet, floral and wild, all at once.
It’s good— too good .
The second we’re inside the coffee shop, she elbows me in the gut and stomps on my toe. Neither hurt, but it’s effective, and I drop her like I wasn’t just huffing her shiny curls.
“What the—” Tabby Whitt cries from behind the register. “Georgia, do you need help?”
“She’s fine,” I choke back a growl of irritation and toss her a smirk. “Can you get her another drink, please? There was an incident outside.”
“No, thank you, Tabby,” Georgia says kindly before she whirls on me, her eyes blazing. “What the fuck?” she hisses, straightening her clothes, yanking her sweater back into place. “Why would you—”
“She doesn’t know,” I snap, rubbing the edge of my jaw, trying to keep my voice down. “My mom. My family. I haven’t told them yet.”
She gives me a long, considering look. Bites her bottom lip and keeps my attention right there.
“Why not?” she finally asks. “If you’re going to give up your…” Her eyes flick toward the counter, then back to me. Her voice lowers. “No decisions need to be made yet. But ultimately, they’re yours to make, Mr. Archer.”
Unable to respond to the loaded statement, I deflect with a scoff. “I just had you in my arms, darlin’. You can drop the mister shit.”
“Against my will,” she mutters, shaking her head. “And I’m not your darlin’.” With a sigh, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a business card and pen. “I meant to give this to you the other day. Should you have any questions, you’re welcome to contact me.”
She bends over a small table, scribbles something on the back of the card. My eyes slide to the curve of her ass in those fitted jeans, and my cock pulses to attention once more. Of course, she’d be the one to wake my balls up.
I look away just before she straightens and holds the card out to me.
“The date and time for the… meeting are on the back,” she says, her tone low. “Please don’t be late. It’s important.” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “And even if you decide to… pass on the opportunity, you’ll still need to attend. You’ll need to tell the judge in person.”
I nod slowly, eyes locked on the card. The mediation. The courthouse in Wildwood. A day and time where everything could change.
One way or another, it will.
“Do you need to know anything?” I murmur, slipping the card into my back pocket.
She lifts a brow.
“About me,” I clarify. “You said you were inspecting my place.” Her grimace makes my jaw tick. “Do you need to ask me shit? Make sure I’m fit? Whatever it is people like you do?”
Georgia studies me, her face unreadable. Her fingers tighten around the strap of the giant bag slung across her body. A beat passes. Then another. Green eyes search mine, and I’m sure she sees it all. The anger. The guilt. The storm of everything I can’t name.
She finally shakes her head.
“No,” she says quietly. “I’ve got everything I need for now.”
Then she steps around me, careful not to brush my arm. Doesn’t look back. Just heads for the door where she pauses and turns enough to catch my gaze.
“Just remember,” she says, voice steady, “it’s not only your life you’re altering here. It’s hers. And she’s already been through something unimaginable. Please don’t make it worse.”
And then she’s gone.
The bell chimes. The door swings shut behind her. And I’m left standing in the middle of a coffee shop I’ve never been inside, trying to breathe around the pressure in my chest.
She’s right. I know she is.
And that’s the worst part.
But for the life of me, I don’t know which choice will hurt Aurora more—keeping her in the wreckage of my existence, or letting her go.
Letting her have a new life.
One without me in it.