“Do you work here?” Georgie asked, trying really hard not to look completely thrown for a loop.
The woman nodded. “I just wanted to tell you, I’d met Jordan before, at the market.”
Oh shit!
“Oh yeah?” she answered instead, sounding a lot like she’d swallowed her tongue.
Layla looked away. “We kind of exchanged numbers, but I knew he wasn’t going to call me.”
“Oh, I…” Georgie replied, not sure how to respond to the woman’s admission.
The redhead put up her hand. “Don’t worry! I’m not telling you this because I’m some crazy woman who’s been stalking him.”
That was a damn crazy thing to throw out, but Georgie plastered on her beauty queen smile and let the woman continue.
“I decided to see if I could find him before I left the store, and I did. He was watching you so intently. I couldn’t even be mad. I just hoped that someday, I could find someone who looked at me the same way he was looking at you.”
Georgie’s beauty queen expression made way for a genuine smile. “I’m sure you will. Have you checked out my Own the Eights blog? You may find some helpful tips on meeting your soul mate.”
Layla’s eyes lit up, and she started prattling on about how everyone at the boutique was following the contest when a realization hit Georgie straight in the gut.
In a roundabout way, her blog had led her to Jordan.
“Is she coming?” a man called, cutting off the redhead’s chatter.
One of the male stylists poked his head in the dressing room. “Mr. Marks is waiting for you, Miss Jensen.”
“You better go!” Layla said excitedly, stepping out of the way.
“Thanks, and don’t forget to check out Own the Eights!” Georgie said, picking up a metallic matching clutch.
She exited the dressing area to find everyone who’d helped them prepare for the evening, standing in a line. It was like a freaking episode of Downton Abbey. She channeled Lizzy Bennet—or at least what she’d thought Lizzy would be like after she’d become Mrs. Darcy and the lady of the Pemberley Estate—and thanked everyone graciously as she made her way to the door when Jordan appeared, and her heart skipped a beat.
Jordan Marks in gym attire was crazy attractive. Jordan Marks in jeans and Birkenstocks was super yummy. But Jordan Marks in a tux was a showstopper.
“Good luck!” Layla called, and Jordan’s eyes went wide.
“That’s…” he began.
“Yep, but don’t worry. She’s either really cool or totally stalking you. I’m not sure which,” Georgie supplied, biting back a grin.
With a stunned expression, he waved goodbye to the redhead, then opened the car door and helped her inside the sleek black SUV.
Once the car started moving, he took her hand. “What do you think we’re walking into tonight?”
Georgie shrugged then glanced down at her dress. “Probably not zip lining or scuba diving.”
“Jesus, you kill me.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her palm.
The SUV didn’t have far to go. In a matter of minutes, the car pulled up to one of Denver’s grand historic hotels, and a valet opened the door and helped her out.
“Welcome! The gala is being held in the main ballroom,” the man said with a quick nod before moving on to the car pulling up behind them.
“It’s a gala,” she said to Jordan as he pressed his hand to the small of her back and led her inside.
“An after-school literacy program fundraiser. It sounds right up your alley,” he added, gesturing to a banner in the hotel’s lavish lobby.
“I know about them. I’ve donated books to this organization,” she replied.
They entered the grand ballroom, packed with elegantly dressed women and men looking smart in their tuxedos when Barry emerged from a group of people and hurried over.
“You guys look great. Are you ready for tonight?”
She’d almost forgotten. CityBeat’s founders, Hector and Bobby, loved a good twist. Anything could happen tonight, and there were plenty of CityBeat people filming and photographing the event.
She shared a look with Jordan. “We’re up for anything. Have Daniel and Danielle arrived?”
The Dannies had more likes than them, but the brother and sister duo hadn’t posted in a few days, which was odd. They usually produced so much content that it seemed like they’d need a team of people to do all the work.
Barry frowned. “They told us that a family issue had come up and that they couldn’t make it tonight.”
She and Jordan shared another look. He’d never been a fan of the Dannies, but she couldn’t help but hope they were all right.
“I just got off the phone with Danielle, and she assured me that she and her brother will be at the final event this weekend. But there have been some anomalies with their blog,” the man added.
“What kind of anomalies?” Jordan asked.
“Nothing to worry about. Just odd surges with their followers. I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it,” the man said as beads of perspiration formed above his lip.
As it stood, the Dannies were in first place with her in second and Jordan a close third. It turns out, CityBeat followers love a good girl gone bad, and her wet T-shirt stunt had garnered the Own the Eights blog an avalanche of likes and new followers.
“Mentioned what?”
Georgie turned to find the CityBeat founders heading their way. The flamboyant Hector had gone with an electric blue tuxedo while the reserved Bobby stuck with the traditional black and white.
“Just talking about the contest, boss,” Barry said, clearly nervous he’d dropped that little nugget of info.
“Well, one thing is for sure. People are loving our naughty bookseller,” Hector said, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek.
Bobby adjusted his glasses. “And Jordan’s goat breakthrough also set the platform on fire.”
“Between you and me,” Hector said, lowering his voice and putting a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Goats always kind of creeped me out, too. Your phobia admission was quite inspiring.”
Jordan blushed then cleared his throat. “I’m just happy that I helped some people address their fears.”
“You two have quite a following now,” Bobby said, glancing at his phone, set to the Battle of the Blogs scoreboard. “And still with a sixty-nine percent crossover. It’s amazing that no matter the increase in your followers, that number remains the same.”
At the thought of sixty-nine, something they’d totally done thanks to the continuing Kama Sutra research endeavor, it was Georgie’s turn to blush.
And the CityBeat community seemed to have taken notice of the chemistry between the eight and the ten. Despite thousands of blog comments asking if she and Jordan were a couple, they hadn’t made anything official. Sure, the world watched as she got him through goat yoga and then when he’d defended her honor and dumped a beer on a guy’s head before saving her from a nasty fall. But they were still competitors. A fact even the best sex and the sweetest gestures couldn’t keep from the back of her mind. And while she desperately needed the prize money, she couldn’t deny that Jordan’s dream was any less worthy than hers.
“Jordan!” came a man’s boisterous voice.
Jordan looked over his shoulder. “Deacon’s here! Do you mind if I go say hello?”
“Not if you don’t mind us stealing Georgie for a bit,” Hector said, sharing a furtive look with Bobby.
She smiled up at Jordan. “I’ll be fine. Tell Deacon hi for me.”
He leaned in to kiss her, then glanced at his mentor and froze. “I’ll only be a minute.”
She nodded and tried to ignore the twist in her gut. Of course, he couldn’t kiss her in the middle of a gala with the CityBeat founders standing two feet away. She had to be patient. The contest would end, and then they could figure out what to do next.
“Shall we,” Hector said, gesturing to a table, and she was grateful for the distraction.
&n
bsp; Barry bid them goodbye and headed back to the group of CityBeat producers while she took a seat with Bobby and Hector, planting themselves one on each side of her.
“Looks like the eight and the ten may be a thing,” Hector said with a coy smile.
“Um…well…you see…Jordan and I…” she began, sounding like a bumbling idiot.
“Opposites do attract,” Bobby said, meeting Hector’s gaze.
Hector chuckled. “They sure do. You thought I was a real jackass when we first met.”
“How did you two meet?” Georgie asked, happy to shift the conversation away from her and Jordan.
Bobby adjusted his glasses. “Hector and I were assigned to work together on a project when we were seniors in college, and I was sure he was going to ruin everything.”
“Until you fell in love with me and acknowledged my stunning intelligence,” Hector added with a twinkle in his eyes.
Bobby smiled lovingly at his partner. “You see, Georgie, that project was the basis for the CityBeat platform. Hector and his crazy ways forced me out of my comfort zone. He made me see things differently.”
Hector relaxed into the chair. “And Bobby did the same for me. On the surface, he was a quiet computer nerd, and I was a loud-mouthed know it all. It took us coming together to build something as brilliant as CityBeat and to learn that we weren’t so different after all.”
“That’s such a sweet story,” she said, glancing between the men.
“You and Jordan were certainly on opposite ends of the spectrum when we threw you two together. But it looks like things have improved,” Hector said with his coy expression back in place.
“Oh…that,” she replied, back to stammering like a guilty witness on the stand.
Bobby and Hector shared another knowing glance as the lights in the ballroom dimmed, and a man appeared on the stage at the front of the room.
“Oh, goody! It’s time!” Hector crooned.
“Time for what?” Georgie asked.
Bobby leaned in. “Hector and I have a little wager going on for what might happen in the next four minutes.”
Sweet Pride and Prejudice! A CityBeat twist!
“What’s about to happen?” she asked when a spotlight illuminated their table.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out to raise money for our after-school literacy program, and thank you to CityBeat for kindly hosting the gala. Let’s start our live auction with item number one, a private book club session with local bookseller and CityBeat Battle of the Blogs competitor, Georgiana Jensen.”
She turned to Hector. “You put me up for auction?”
“It’s nothing untoward. Whoever wins gets to have a book discussion with you. It’s harmless and it’s for charity.”
“Oh boy,” she said in a tight breath.
“Don’t be shy, Georgiana. Join me up on stage,” the man with the mic said, beckoning her to come forward.
Georgie stood, and like an undercover operative in enemy territory, she fell back on her training—her pageant training. Lifting her chin, she glided through the ballroom and onto the stage, rocking her gown and stilettos like she was born for the runway.
Take that Little Miss Cherry Pie!
“All right, folks. Who wants to spend an evening with this lovely lady talking books? Let’s start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”
Five hundred dollars!
Georgie scanned the ballroom for Jordan. Thank goodness her ten stood out in a crowd. She found him quickly and caught his gaze.
“What’s going on?” he mouthed.
She produced her beauty queen smile and gave him a slight shake of the head. She had no damn idea what was going on.
“Five hundred, right here!”
Georgie’s head whipped to the side, and she squinted through the bright lights then gasped. “Save the Whales Steve? Is that you?”
“Hey, Georgie!” he called with a wide grin.
What the heck was he doing here? It did make sense that someone who cared about the whales would also care about youth literacy. He was an eight. But before she could give it any more thought, Jordan’s voice rang out through the ballroom.
“Six hundred!”
Georgie’s head whipped back to her ten, who’d lost the shocked expression. Now, determination burned in his gaze.
“Six hundred to the gentleman,” the auctioneer called.
“Six fifty,” Save the Whales Steve countered.
“Seven,” Jordan shot back.
Seven hundred dollars to discuss the salient points of Jane Eyre. This was insane!
“Eight hundred,” Steve bid, upping the ante.
“We have eight hundred dollars! Do I hear eight fifty.”
You could hear a pin drop as everyone in the room watched the showdown.
“One thousand dollars,” Jordan answered with a hard edge to his voice.
Her ten was not screwing around.
Save the Whales Steve took a step back and shook his head.
“All right! One thousand going once.”
She held Jordan’s gaze. She was sure he had the money, but he was saving for his dream.
“One thousand going twice.”
His cool demeanor cracked, and he smiled up at her with such tender devotion that all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around this man and never let go.
“Sold to the gentleman for one thousand dollars.”
She held his gaze until Deacon came up and tapped him on the shoulder. Jordan frowned as the man whispered something into his ear, then followed his mentor out of the ballroom.
The auctioneer led her off the stage, and she lost sight of Jordan and Deacon in the commotion. But one thing was for sure, she could tell from Jordan’s strained expression that whatever Deacon had said, her ten wasn’t pleased.
She headed toward the exit to catch up to them when Save the Whales Steve blocked her path.
“It’s so great to see you, Georgie!”
She needed to get to Jordan. The tightness in her chest and the anxious flutter in her belly were not good signs, but that didn’t give her license to be rude.
“Yes, it is,” she answered, remembering her manners.
A man came up and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. “Is this her?”
“Who’s this?” she asked.
“Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Carson. I told him all about meeting you in the grocery store. When I saw you up on stage, I couldn’t believe it was the cucumber girl. I told him, ‘We have to bid on her!’”
The cucumber girl?
Well, there had to be worse nicknames, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. Save the Whales Steve had had zero interest in her romantically. Jordan was going to get a real kick out of that.
“That was very kind of you to bid on me. But would you excuse me a moment? I need to find someone.”
The men wished her well, and she set off, leaving the ballroom and was about to look for Jordan in the lobby when raised voices, Deacon and Jordan’s voices, coming from an empty hallway caught her attention. Slowly, she made her way toward the sound then stopped next to the entrance to the ladies’ room just out of the men’s view.
“She’s got you off track, Jordan! For fuck’s sake, you wore Birkenstocks to the gym the other day.”
“It’s not like that, Deac. I know what my priorities are.”
Georgie pressed her hand to her lips, holding back a gasp, hardly able to believe they were arguing about her.
Deacon threw up his hands. “Do you remember your priorities? Are you going to tell me right here, right now that nothing serious is going on with that girl? Because I can tell you one thing. She is not going to help you get ahead. And know this, I do not surround myself with losers. I hope you understand what I’m telling you.”
She held her breath and waited for Jordan to respond.
“It’s nothing serious, Deac. You know I’m in it to win.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Had
she misunderstood? Had Jordan misspoken?
Deacon’s callous smirk confirmed she’d heard him crystal clear.
Jordan’s longtime mentor patted his shoulder. “Attaboy! Don’t you ever forget that I took you under my wing. I made a warrior out of a weakling. Everyone knows you’re my protégé, Jordan. Weakness from you would reflect poorly on me and the gym. I know you want to branch out on your own. I’m sure you can understand, I can only support you in that endeavor if I believe that you’re one hundred percent committed to your goals. I need you to tell me because I think you may have forgotten. What’s priority number one?”
A muscle twitched in Jordan’s jaw as he looked away and mumbled something under his breath.
“Speak up, son!” Deacon barked.
Jordan met the man’s gaze. “Win. Priority number one is to always win.”
“Damn right. Finish what you start and crush anyone who gets in your way.”
Georgie’s heartbeat hammered in her chest, and the hallway went topsy-turvy just as the door to the women’s restroom swung open, and she let out a surprised yelp.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!” a perky young woman she remembered meeting at Deacon CrossFit said, before glancing down the hall and spotting the men. “Deac, I’m not wearing underwear.” The young woman giggled.
The men turned at the sound, and Jordan caught her gaze as his tanned skin went ghost white.
Deacon threw her an arrogant glance as the bubbly blonde hooked her arm with his.
“Isn’t this so fancy, Jordan?” the woman said with another giggle.
“Good talk, son,” Deacon said, eyeing Jordan one last time before escorting his date back toward the ballroom.
“Georgie,” Jordan said, taking several steps forward, but she put up her hands defensively.
She steadied herself. “You lied to me. I thought that I was the one you were talking about when you said only one person’s opinion mattered.”
With his shoulders slumped, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it’s complicated with Deacon. I owe him everything. He’s been my mentor for over a decade, and he could make things very difficult for me in the CrossFit community.”
How could he not see it?
She barked out a laugh. “That’s not a mentor. That’s a monster. A mentor supports you. What I just overheard might as well have been blackmail.”
Own the Eights: Own the Eights: Book One Page 16