by Jamie Magee
She lifted her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to trust again. I wasn’t all that good at it before Hunter.”
“Trust yourself,” Memphis said, draping his arm around her. “Trust yourself to make a decision and stick with it, and one day someone will fit right into the life you’ve made. You just have to build it first.”
When she didn’t argue or mutter a word, he glanced down to see that she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He unclenched her laptop from her arms, lifted her, and carried her to the bed, tucking her in. Her phone on the bedside table vibrated, and she winced. He picked it up to silence it so she would sleep.
On the screen, he saw a text from the loser he was determined to kill one day. The text was a link to some song on iTunes. He almost deleted it and called Hunter to tell him to go to hell and lose this number. But he knew the only way Georgia was going to walk away from him was on her own two feet. He turned the phone off and pulled her covers up, a little at ease knowing that it was Hunter and no one from Willowhaven that had stirred those emotions in her tonight.
***
Easton Ballantine, at best, had slept three hours the night before. He hadn’t been able to still his mind. He could taste Georgia—feel her in his arms. He was craving her, and every time he tried to drown her out she flooded to the surface. Which infuriated him.
As quickly as his thoughts laid out a reason he shouldn’t be with Georgia—ever—a solution followed. He’d never missed Lucas more than he had that night. For if he was alive, Easton would have driven to his house and told him he’d fallen hard for his daughter. He would have asked him what the hell to do.
Somewhere around dawn he decided he may not have Lucas anymore, but there was someone else he needed to make peace with—someone he hoped would set him right. Someone to knock some sense into his ass and tell Easton to back off.
Just past seven Easton was outside Memphis’s office. He wasn’t there, so Easton waited, for hours. When he did come in, the chief was with him going over training plans.
“You all right?” Memphis asked him later on when he walked into the locker room.
Easton was putting on his tie. He hesitated, then said, “I was going to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”
“If I’ve got you down for too many shifts I can move some things around. Truman’s eager to get his feet wet.”
“I’m good.”
Memphis was pulling on his jacket as he looked over Easton. He found it odd that Easton hadn’t looked him in the eye all day. Easton usually stared right through you.
“Whatever it is, it can’t wait. What’s up?” he asked.
“We’ll be late.”
“And? It’s not like being late is a crime. Shit happens.”
Easton leaned forward on the sink, his long arms flexed, and after a tense moment he spoke. “I still miss him…to this day when I find myself in a hard spot he’s the first person I think to ask how to get out of it.” He smirked. “You’d think by now I’d know he’s gone.”
Memphis’s dark gaze shifted over Easton. Every once in a while they may throw around his father’s advice, which was immortal. Their favorite line being ‘don’t believe your own bullshit,’ but for the most part they stayed far from the topic.
It didn’t hurt Memphis all that bad anymore, but he knew Easton was slow to get over things he felt, and that was because it took a lot to make him feel anything.
“You got us, Easton. You know that right?”
Easton nodded stiffly.
“You got this, man,” Memphis said. “Life may’ve thrown a wrench or two at you, but you handled it—you manned up. You’re better for it, you will be in the long run—remember that when it gets hard.”
Easton swallowed stiffly. “Did you know I was late to his funeral?”
Memphis furrowed his brow. He didn’t recall.
“I, um. I was just looking for a second to think…” He bit his lip. “I ended up having the best night of my life.”
“I’m not following, bro.”
Easton smirked. “We both know I’m an ass—and I tried to be one that night, but she saw right through it. Then I figured out nothing hurt next to her. I figured out what it felt like to be wide awake.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I knew every second was a sin, but I needed it—I needed her.”
“Who?” Memphis asked, completely lost—he’d never once seen Easton show this level of emotion over a girl.
“Georgia.”
Memphis jarred back, sure he heard him wrong.
“You can kick my ass. I’m kinda counting on it.”
Memphis pulled his shoulders back. “You slept with my sister?”
Easton shook his head. “Well, next to her, but no. I mean we—”
Memphis held his hand up to stop him, deciding he didn’t want the details.
Easton leaned against the sink and looked down as he crossed his arms. “Apparently, she and I have a knack for finding each other when we’re walking through hell. She was there was I was kid, and I was there that night, all by chance.”
Memphis lifted his jaw. “Something happen between you two last night?”
Easton lifted his gaze.
“I’m not an idiot. She was a wreck when I got home.”
Easton cursed under his breath. “She walked away before I could explain how my life is now.”
Memphis leaned right alongside Easton and sighed.
“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Easton finally said.
“Somethin’ like that.”
Easton looked right at him.
Memphis shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Memphis said solemnly.
“Stay the fuck away would be nice.”
“Not happening.”
“What?”
“Not going there. Neither one of you know how to show any emotion, both stoic even when you don’t have to be. Last night, I watched her fall apart for no reason and just now I read you—she got to you and you got to her.”
“She was mad, Memphis, mad because of who I am now. Hell, at first she acted like she didn’t even know me.”
Memphis moved his head side to side. “Hurt, probably jealous.”
“I don’t think we’re talking about the same girl,” Easton said gruffly.
Yeah they were, only no one knew his sister like he did. “How come it didn’t go anywhere between you before?”
Easton lifted his brow. “She was barely eighteen. I was on the road with Wyatt.”
“Where your demons took root in you, where you changed the entire course of your life forever.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if Georgia knows that I’m telling you that she’s hurt, she wasn’t enough to bring you off the road and jealous because someone else did. She likes to fix people.”
Easton almost said he wasn’t broken but stopped himself when he remembered saying those exact words to Georgia years before.
Memphis stood up, turned and started to straighten his tie. “You want to fix this with her—then let her see how broken you are.” He grinned slightly. “What did Dad always say—every broken road…”
“Are you trying to tell me this is a good idea—her and me? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Not a damn thing,” Memphis said with a smug grin. He wanted Georgia off the road—Easton might be the answer to that prayer. “Let’s go make sure Wyatt is standing at that altar.”
Easton thought he’d feel better once he told Memphis about Georgia. Even if the two of them went fist to fist, he assumed that some of the tension in his body would fade, but he was wrong.
The entire time he’d been at the wedding he felt his heart hammering, just waiting to see her. When he finally did lay eyes on her, when she took the bridal party photos, he didn’t have a chance to say a word. She refused to look at him. Which drove him mad.
Right then he was standing next to Wyatt as he and Harley finished greeting their guests.
; Wyatt elbowed him in the ribs. “You want to be a little less obvious?”
Easton clenched his jaw and pulled his stare away from Georgia. Who was across the room, snapping random photos and smiling politely to all those around her, calm as ever.
“I talked to Memphis.”
Wyatt’s stare grew wide. “And?”
“And you’re in the middle of your wedding so focus on that.”
Wyatt nodded for Truman to come to his side. “You two keep each other outta trouble. I mean it.” Then he pulled Harley to him as they were announced as a couple for the first time.
“I didn’t plan to start any trouble, but damn, son, you look murderous. What’s up? Did you not get any sleep or something?” Truman asked as they slowly followed the wedding party inside.
“Nope.”
“I know what you need.”
Easton glanced at him.
“Fun. Come on, I know where some is—it’s called an open bar surrounded by women who are feeling all romantic and shit.”
Easton glanced in Georgia’s direction once more before Truman pulled him away.
***
Being in the same room with Easton was hard on Georgia, but at the same time it was helping her deal with the crowd. If she focused on how mad she was, the anxiety rumbling in her gut faded away.
Every time she looked his way, she found his stare. His devoted attention literally stole her breath. She could not figure out why he was being so obvious when his date had to be close—she had been searching for the illusive phone call girl all afternoon, preparing herself for that stab in the soul. She’d yet to surface.
When the reception started, a sweet older woman came out of nowhere and touched Georgia’s arm, pulling her out of her wandering thoughts.
“Georgia? Cynthia. My, you grew into a beautiful woman,” she said with a beaming smile.
Georgia grinned and shook the woman’s hand. She looked familiar to her, but Georgia couldn’t place where—when it came to Willowhaven everyone seemed that way to her. Familiar, but nothing more.
“I was hoping against all hope that you worked with children, too?”
Georgia’s polite smile faded. “Well, you see, I don’t do this for a living. This was just a favor.”
“I’ll pay you just the same. You see, my granddaughter is not a fan of photos. She’s growing up too fast, and I have hardly any professional shots, and the ones I do have she is squalling like you would not believe. You just seem so patient. I wanted to try once more.”
Kids, Georgia thought. She knew none, had spent zero time around any. Quite frankly they scared her.
“I would be glad to, but I’m just visiting and I really don’t know that I’m set up to take any kind of poses with kids.”
Right then, Marie Armstrong had managed to get someone to roll her over to her granddaughter. “Good. Good. You found Cynthia. I told her you would love to take images of that precious granddaughter of hers.”
Georgia pursed her lips, thinking that her grandmother was far sharper than Memphis had led on. She was not slipping into some dementia. She was a plotter, and she was plotting to get Georgia to stay in Willowhaven as long as possible. More than once that day she had spoken to Georgia about her home, told her how proud her father would be.
“I bet you could get Randal to let you use the house for some shots, and you know your brother has enough gear around his house for you to use as props.”
“Fireman gear?” Georgia asked, not lining up the granddaughter part of this conversation with that statement.
“Her father, grandfather, too many to name have served,” Cynthia said. “A few shots with any gear would be amazing. Even though I put her in every dress I can find, I have a feeling she’s going to be a tomboy.”
The woman’s sincere smile melted away any resistance Georgia could muster. “I have a lot of projects to catch up on next week, but I might be able to do something tomorrow afternoon if you’re free?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Great,” Georgia said, looking down at her grandmother. “Then we just have to see if Randal will allow us to use his house. If not, maybe there is a park or something.”
“Absolutely. The house on New Beginning?” Cynthia asked Marie.
“That’s the one,” Marie said.
“How’s two?”
“Sounds good,” Georgia said with a ‘what did I just do?’ smile that only earned her an excited hug from Cynthia.
As she walked away, Georgia playfully glared at her grandmother.
“I’m onto you.”
Marie Armstrong smiled sheepishly. “You have no idea what this old lady is cooking up.” She waved her hand to the woman that was pushing her wheelchair. “Take me to Memphis.”
All Georgia could do was laugh when she saw her grandmother wheeled up to Memphis, her pulling him close to tell him some big secret, and the dumbfounded look on his face. If she told him about that house…
Georgia captured images of the first dance. Once it was over and Wyatt waved everyone onto the floor, Memphis found Georgia, pulled her camera from her, then drew her to the dance floor.
“Where is your girl?”
He grimaced. “I broke it off this morning.”
“You did what?”
“What you said made sense. That was not going to go anywhere.”
“I didn’t mean for you to sleep with her, then leave her the next morning,” Georgia protested. “Now you’re an ass, Memphis. An asshat. How’s that rockin’ your ego?”
He almost laughed. “I didn’t sleep with her last night.”
“Do what?”
“I didn’t.”
“There’s more to that story,” Georgia said, narrowing her stare on him.
He glanced away and tried to hide a smile. “Okay, so maybe she got a little mad that I wanted to spend time with you. I don’t do jealousy, especially over a sister. I like independent, stubborn women.”
“A challenge.”
“You like to fix things. I like things to be worth fighting for.”
“I’m done fixing people, I swear that to you.”
“Not a bad trait, little bit. You just have to fix people who want to be fixed, or something like that.”
“Good point,” she admitted. “What?” she asked when she noticed a playful glint in his eyes.
“Nothing.”
“What, Memphis?” she said, impishly slapping his shoulder.
“You just…you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, Georgia.”
She blushed as she gave him a shy smile. Memphis squeezed her hand. “Little bit, I know it’s easy for you to over think things. That you’re careful…but sometimes you have to go with your first instinct. You have to trust yourself.”
“I’m working on that,” Georgia said with a sigh, sure that Grams had told him about the house.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Yeah, but some things I have to figure it out for myself first.”
“Fair enough.”
“So?” She raised her brow, wondering why he wasn’t telling her all the reasons buying a house was a good idea.
“So what?”
“Are we not going to talk about what Gram’s said to you?”
Memphis furrowed his brow; he thought they were. He also thought it was odd that his grandmother told him to lead Georgia out to the dance floor and then ask for Easton to cut in—then again he just assumed he was the last to know about this crush the pair of them had.
“You mean the fact that she thinks you need friends,” Memphis said with a sly grin as he glanced across the room.
Easton had opted out of any and every drink. He wanted to keep his wits about him and his head nice and clear. Yet, he was drunk on the sight of Georgia. The way she was smiling in Memphis’s arms. The laugh she would let out when he twirled her too fast.
Memphis’s gaze had landed on Easton. He nodded, telling him to come. Easton was used to takin
g orders from Memphis, so he was halfway there before he figured out he should have said no or acted like he didn’t understand what he wanted.
Before Georgia could ask Memphis why Grams had said she needed friends or ask him what that had to do with her house, he started to twirl her. When she stopped, she was staring at a broad chest. She didn’t even have to question whose uniform it was. The hint of spice, fire, and lavender, along with the gravity that was already pulling her forward told her.
“Can you cut in, Easton?” Memphis said when he saw that his boy was nearly frozen. “Of course you can,” Memphis said, easing his sister’s hand into Easton’s.
She was trapped somewhere between a hot fantasy and her worst nightmare. That much Georgia knew.
Chapter Nine
The lights were dimmed, a sensual song full of soul started to play. The world had stopped. Georgia was all Easton could see or hear in this room.
When his arm moved around her waist, a sigh she couldn’t hold in escaped, and almost naturally her body relaxed against him.
“Georgia,” he whispered against her ear.
A flame, a burning emotion ripped through her soul at the sound of his voice. “Dance,” she managed to say as her fingers folded between his, and she moved her body in the slow rhythm the music demanded.
She didn’t want his apology. She didn’t want to know who this woman was that had managed to entangle the wild boy Easton Ballantine.. She was going to steal this moment. Pretend that four years ago her phone rang and she heard his deep voice on the other end. She was going to pretend that she hadn’t spent the last three years running from the pain in her life.
She felt his hand slide down her back and pull her even closer as he leaned his head against hers, she flushed and gripped his hand all the tighter. She couldn’t understand why he was being so sensual, so brazen about the effect they had on each other.
Her dark thoughts told her it was because he was a player and had no shame.
“We need to talk,” he whispered just above her ear as the song ended.
She never answered him, didn’t want him to hear her voice tremble. Instead, she broke away from him and went to find her camera, which was sitting in her grandmother’s lap. At least it’s safe, she thought. Now to get it back without falling into another ‘talk’ with her grandmother.