Meant To Be Different

by Amelia Foster

  Gigi tugged her hand from his, and he was certain she’d hop in the sexy little car that fit her so well and fly away faster than he could blink. But before he could utter a single word, before he could beg her to stay, her hand was behind his neck, tugging his mouth against hers. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her tight against him.

  Desperation drove his lips to devour her, his tongue skating along the seam. Georgia answered with her own demand as she both held him closer and sealed her mouth more firmly against his. The battle for control raged between them until he rubbed the front of his increasingly tight jeans against her.

  She moaned against him, and he took advantage of her parted lips to stroke her tongue with the tip of his. Fire ignited in his veins.

  She broke the kiss long before he was ready for it to end and took two stumbling steps backwards. One hand clapped over her swollen mouth and the other landed on her stomach.

  “No. No, I cannot do that again. I cannot fall into the same damn trap.”

  Before Wyatt could ask what the hell she was talking about, she put an invisible divider between them as she opened her car door and sobered her face. “I’ll have someone call you. We’ll set up a date. No, not a date. A time. A meeting. At my office.” Not waiting for a response, she quickly got in her car and raced out of his driveway.

  Without any help from his brain, his tongue ran over his lips. Damn, he’d missed the taste of Gigi.

  ***

  Georgia

  The scent of decadent amounts of butter combined with the tinny sound of kernels ricocheting off the stovetop popper relaxed some of the tension holding Georgia’s face taut as she stepped from the shower. “I thought you were off duty today.” She finished pulling her damp hair back into a ponytail as she padded into the kitchen, assessing the scene before her. “Five bottles?”

  Paige dumped the contents of the popper into the already half full chocolate-colored glass bowl. “I told you I’d buy Vinho by the case.” She nodded toward the empty living room. “And your dad asked me to come in because he had some dinner plans come up with a company wanting to switch to him for their insurance or some such thing.” She shrugged sheepishly. “I adore your dad, but I tend to zone out when he goes into his ‘shop talk’ routine.”

  Georgia nodded then stretched her arms across the cool granite countertop of her island and pressed her forehead against the stone. “I kissed him,” she whined into the solid surface.

  “I figured that out when you called me hyperventilating on the way back to the office.”

  She lifted her head from the counter and fixed her best friend with a withering stare. “I need support, not sarcasm, Paige.”

  Paige tossed a handful of popcorn in her mouth with a little laugh. “Those go hand in hand, Georgie girl. You know that.”

  A silence descended over them weighted enough to draw Georgia’s gaze up as she propped her chin on her folded hands on the granite. “What?”

  With barely more than a whisper, Paige managed to speak to Georgia’s biggest fear. “He isn’t Bruce.”

  Georgia closed her eyes against the burn of unshed tears. “No, he isn’t. He’s Wyatt. That is so much worse. I can’t go there with him. Not again.”

  A shuddering sigh and deep groan accompanied her move into an upright position. She waved over to the butterfly tote bag Paige brought with her. “What kind of magic do you have in there to make me forget this horrible, awful, no good, very bad day?” Rustling behind her interrupted her thoughts and her back stiffened at the sound. She waged a familiar battle with wanting to check on her grandmother to make sure she didn’t get hurt and letting her be to go back to sleep. Sometimes going in calmed her, sometimes it agitated her. Hell, every moment with Gram was a crapshoot.

  She and Paige exchanged a meaningful look, and Georgia held her breath for several minutes with only the ticking of the clock to fill the silence between them.

  Finally Paige nodded. “She’s just restless with the new medication.”

  Georgia pressed her lips together tightly, swallowing several times past the lump of emotion clogging her throat. “I think it’s working though. Most of the time.” She lifted a shoulder. “During the day at least. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of…Gram.”

  Her friend leaned forward and covered Georgia’s hand with her own. “It is. It definitely is.”

  Somewhat confident the older woman had settled back down for the night, Georgia grabbed the open wine bottle and generously filled a glass. “Did I mention that Jenny flirted with him? I mean that girl barely says two words to anyone in the office but she manages to flirt with Wyatt freaking Carlisle?”

  “You mentioned that in between breathing into a paper bag because you sucked face with that very same Wyatt freaking Carlisle.” Paige quirked up an eyebrow with a half grin. “Jealous much?”

  Georgia made a choking sound in the back of her throat, grabbed the overflowing bowl of popcorn with one hand, and drained her glass with the other. She held the bottle near the rim to refill her glass before deciding to just take the entire bottle along with the buttery snack into the next room. “Definitely not. Even if I was jealous—which I am not—it certainly wouldn’t be of some backwards little intern who doesn’t know the difference between a fashion sketch and a caricature.”

  Paige trailed behind Georgia into the living room with her colorful bag in hand. “Oh, good. I am so glad you aren’t jealous.”

  Heat rose in Georgia’s cheeks as she collapsed onto the couch and stuffed a handful of crunchy, butter-coated goodness in her mouth to prevent the laughter from spilling out. She wasn’t sure if she was more annoyed with her employee for flirting with a client or herself for caring.

  The answer was swift and decisive. Both. It was both.

  Paige pulled two DVD cases from her bag and held them up. “Whatcha in the mood for, Georgie girl? Action or romance?”

  Georgia’s gaze narrowed in on the one in her best friend’s left hand. “That’s a joke, right?” She took a long swig from the bottle of wine.

  Her mouth dropped open in shock, and Paige clutched the movie to her chest. “I do not kid about romances starring Scott Eastwood.” She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. “Especially not Scott Eastwood in the shower.”

  “I’ve had one ridiculously sexy cowboy drive me crazy today. I don’t need a second one.” Georgia would never admit, even to Paige, that her lips still tingled at the memory of their kiss. “Put in the action. And Taron Egerton is hella hot too.”

  Paige popped the movie into the DVD player and bounced as she took her seat next to Georgia on the couch. “Can’t argue with your taste in man candy. You did land…he who must not be named.” Her eyebrows jumped three times in rapid succession, and Georgia laughed.

  Twenty minutes and an empty bottle of wine into the movie, Paige laid her temple on Georgia’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  Georgia sighed and tilted her head to rest against Paige’s. “As long as I’ve got my best friend and a good bottle of Vinho, I’m certain it will.”

  Three quick raps on the front door made them both jump and look at each other in confusion. “You expecting someone, Georgie girl?”

  Georgia uncurled her legs and stood up. “Nope. Maybe Jonah has come to look for his fiancée?”

  “Not possible.” Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “He’s got four back to back flights scheduled and won’t be home for three days.”

  She crossed the room, flipped the lock, and slowly opened the front door. Before she had a chance to think, speak, or deliver a well-placed knee between his legs, Wyatt pushed through and grabbed her around the waist.

  Her mouth opened in shock just as his lips crashed against hers. Hungry. Needy. And everything she’d been missing. Georgia’s hands gripped his biceps, fingernails digging into the cotton-covered skin.

  Seconds, minutes, hours…she had no idea how much time had ticked by, but far sooner than she wanted he pulled away from her with a fina
l nip to her bottom lip.

  “You left before I was finished.” His breathing was almost as labored as hers as he panted out the words. “And I personally think this should happen.”

  His eyes fixed behind her and his cocky grin slipped easily into place. He released Georgia’s waist, and she staggered back a few steps. Wyatt touched the brim of his hat. “Evenin’, Paige.”

  “Nice to see ya, Wyatt,” Paige called out to his retreating back as he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  Georgia walked back to the couch in a trance, trying desperately to wrap her mind around what just happened. Even more, deciding whether she was offended or elated. Not up for debate was the fact he left her insanely turned on with that same insatiable lust they had as teenagers. And miserable in the knowledge she’d be going to bed alone that night, just as deprived as she had been when they were younger and Wyatt had insisted they were never “ready,” whatever that may mean.

  Her best friend, her very best friend in the whole entire world, her ally, her person tilted her head back and laughed. “That was so much more entertaining than either movie.”

  She grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at her friend. “You’re not helping.” A rock settled into the pit of Georgia’s stomach and stole the smile from her face. “I can’t do this again.”

  Paige sighed and clicked the button to restart the movie she’d paused when the doorbell had chimed. “You’re going to have to start trusting someone again. I get that he screwed up before, but at the end of the day…he’s still Wyatt. Might not be a bad place to start.” She grinned wickedly before settling deeper into the couch. “Or you could just use him for that hot bod of his. Asshole really did manage to get more gorgeous over time.”

  Georgia attempted to return her attention to the screen, but her best friend’s words echoed through her brain.

  He’s still Wyatt.

  Yeah, that was exactly the problem.

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt

  Thirteen Years Earlier

  “Uh, yeah, whatever.”

  He figured that was a good enough response. Hoped it would be enough to silence the chatty blonde seated beside him.

  Wyatt had no idea why, but the new girl sitting with his buddy’s little sister across the cafeteria had caught his attention. Well, he knew why he noticed her. How could he not? In a school filled with unabashedly cookie-cutter kids, she stood out like a show pony at a barrel race. From her heavily rimmed eyes to her jet-black lips and all the way down to the dark combat boots, she was one of a kind.

  And the only attention she ever paid him in the past two months was to sneer in his general direction.

  He adjusted himself on the uncomfortable bench. Girls didn’t ignore him, and they sure as hell didn’t give him dirty looks. Well, not until he broke up with them. Then things could get hairy.

  This girl, though, this girl had been completely unimpressed with Wyatt from day one. She’d never tried to catch his eyes and seemed to purposefully go out of her way to avoid him. She wouldn’t be some easy conquest. She’d be more difficult to win over than the bronc that threw him at five seconds last week.

  If there was one thing Wyatt Carlisle loved, it was a challenge.

  When he caught her with her back leaning against her locker at the end of the day, her attention focused on the open textbook in her arms, he pushed his hat down further and sauntered over. “Well, hey there, darlin’.” He embellished his drawl; the girls always liked that. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

  Bright hazel eyes cut him a sideways glare. “Nope.” She popped the P at the end of the word. “And we really don’t need to be.” She pushed off the locker and started down the nearly empty hallway.

  He stared after her for a few minutes before jogging a little to catch up with her. “You’re a prickly filly, aren’t ya?”

  She heaved a deep sigh as she pushed the front door open. “Listen, I get it. I’ve been here long enough to know everyone falls all over the Rhinestone Cowboy in all of his charming glory. I am so super happy that you’re more popular than John Wayne, but I’m not going to be here long enough to need to bask in your shining glow.”

  Sarcasm and false enthusiasm dripped from her voice. Wyatt was torn between being insulted or amused as hell. This girl was pretty damn funny.

  He followed her down the concrete sidewalk, curving to the right and onto the main road. “Hey now, Dark Angel, you don’t need to be cuttin’ a man off at the knees like that. Just askin’ your name.”

  She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and turned to face him. “Dark Angel? Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?” She shook her head and narrowed her gaze. “And don’t think for one minute I’m buying that fake accent. There isn’t a single person in this entire backwoods area that talks like you.”

  Wyatt’s brows drew together. Okay, now she wasn’t funny; she was just difficult. “What else am I supposed to call you when you dress like Dracula’s long-lost prom date and you won’t tell me your name?” The excessive drawl melted away, leaving only a light accent in its place. “And do ya think you could stop insulting everyone and everything around you for five minutes?”

  “Don’t be mad at me, Rhinestone Cowboy.” She poked him in the chest with one inky-tipped finger. “The only thing funny about this city, this state, hell, my life right now is you. From the hat to the clothes to the clearly deluded rodeo persona, you’re the only thing I’ve got worth laughing at.”

  She spun on one clunky black heel and walked away, leaving him speechless.

  ***

  Georgia

  Georgia quickly crossed the street and along the path through the park. She couldn’t stay in the house. She couldn’t look at her dad’s bleak expression or her grandmother’s mask of cheerfulness and hope. Not for one more minute. Not today.

  She’d find that small bench nestled in the back under the large oak tree, away from most prying eyes, and allow herself one hour to wallow and cry. One hour to expend all the tears that bubbled under the surface. One hour to drop the badass goth persona she put on like steel reinforced armor every day just to make it through.

  Then she’d reapply the wide swaths of eyeliner and walk back home like nothing had ever happened.

  It was her routine once or twice a week for the past two months and it worked like a charm. Then tomorrow she could be the supportive daughter she needed to be at home and the moody, sarcastic teenager that kept everyone at a distance at school and she could make it through a few more days.

  She found her sacred refuge quickly enough, a relieved exhale escaping her lips as it did every time she found it empty. She sat sideways on the bench, her legs pulled tightly against her chest, as her gaze raked across the heavily wooded area surrounding her.

  If she were truly honest with herself, Asheville wasn’t that bad. No matter how beautiful she silently found the mountains, lakes, and forests her grandparents would take her to in an effort to sell her on the locale…it wasn’t home.

  It wasn’t Tampa with the easy access to…everything. It wasn’t near the ocean. She didn’t wake up in the morning greeted with the tangy scent of the salty sea air.

  She rested her forehead against her fishnet stocking-clad knees. She finally gave herself permission to release the tears she fought so hard every day to hide. To let go of a little more of the hope of a miracle for her mom. To forget a few more of the dreams…

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Dark Angel in all her emo misery.”

  Nausea hit her as soon as the deep, husky voice registered in her brain. She wanted to run. She wanted to deck him. She wanted to stop freaking crying before he caught sight of one single tear.

  Georgia kept her head bent down, her auburn hair shielding her face from him. “Don’t you have some blonde bimbo to grace with your presence? You know, one who wears her Levi’s so tight they cut off circulation to her head so she actually finds you interesting.
”

  His footsteps stopped far closer to her right side than she wanted. Georgia closed her eyes, silently pleading with him to turn and walk away.

  Instead he flopped heavily down on the bench beside her feet. She quickly spun her head to the left to keep him from seeing her face. “Ya know, Angel, I’m not sure if you’re funny or just plain mean.”

  Georgia scoffed, her throat catching on the sound. No, her internal scream reverberated through her entire being—no, don’t cry in front of a stupid freaking cowboy. “Why don’t you save your pea-sized brain the agony of trying to figure it out and just get lost?”

  “Why the hell do you have to be such a raging bitch?”

  She whipped her head around to face him, forgetting for a moment that her eyes were still undoubtedly red, her makeup was running, and her tears were anything but in check. “If your mom was dying, you might not be blissfully charming either. Asshole.”

  His eyes wide, he reached out a hand and gently touched her cheek and brushed away a tear. “Damn, I’m sorry, Angel. I-I didn’t know.”

  Animosity? Sarcasm? Bitterness? Bring it on, she could handle it all. But the kindness in the sapphire depths was more than Georgia could stand. The dam she worked so hard to reinforce every day broke in front of Wyatt Carlisle, of all people. She hiccuped on a sob, and before she knew it, she found herself folded into his strong arms, crying out her pain into his shoulder.

  Her arms slid around his neck of their own accord as wave after wave of fear and despair crashed over her. One roughened hand began to stroke down her hair, and she tightened her hold on him.

  Him.

  Wyatt.

  The stupid freaking cowboy.

  The one person who seemed to annoy her on a daily basis just by existing was the only person to offer the kind of sympathy and comfort she needed. The only person who wasn’t struggling as much as her. She swallowed and pulled away, wiping her eyes with her palms. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t…I never…”