Georgia kissed him out of self-preservation. It was the only way she knew to shut him up.
She needed time to think about the change in their situation, but the possessive, insistent, too-handsome-for-his-own-good man in her arms didn’t sound like he planned to give that to her.
Chapter Fifteen
After finally going back to sleep, Georgia woke at 8:30 and found a note on the pillow next to her head. Hollywood had gotten an emergency call from a local hospital and had left a couple hours ago. She used his bathroom again and put her borrowed pants on from yesterday. She didn’t bother with the tank top because her bra was missing. Hollywood’s shirt offered more protection.
She trudged down the hallway and found Vassal in the foyer. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect her modesty. She could tell from his grin though that it was too late.
“Morning,” she said.
His smile was wide and sardonic. “At least one of us got lucky. I slept on the couch.”
“Henna probably just needed time to think about it.”
His grin widened. She dropped one arm to shake a finger at him. “At my age, you have to make decisions faster. I could be dead tomorrow.”
While Vassal snorted and tried not to laugh, she looked around, bit her lip, and looked back at him. “Any idea where the laundry room is? Cinderella needs to find her missing ball gown.”
Vassal nodded and started walking. “Sure. I’ll show you. You’ll get lost if you go on your own. First few times I visited, I went missing so often people had to search for me.”
They trudged down the tile and turned right, passing through a gourmet kitchen that outshone Trudy’s. Seventy-five steps later they were in a laundry room the size of a studio apartment.
“Now I know how Hollywood keeps in such good shape. It’s a fifteen minute walk to get anywhere in this place.”
Vassal’s chuckling made her grin at herself. She inspected the suit. Luckily, it had survived the evening. Her pumps were on a nearby folding table. Her little gold purse was slung over the hanger. That meant she had money to get home too. God Bless Henna and her thoughtfulness. She’d completely lost track of her purse during the flood. She clipped the tank top to the skirt
Hanging next to the suit was a Bengals zip up hoodie. Georgia saw it and laughed. “Perfect. I need another layer. If Henna is a Bengals fan, she needs serious help. I’ll just take this awful hoodie off her hands until she gets better taste in football teams.”
Vassal chuckled and snorted. “Stop insulting our favorite team. I’m being kind and not saying a damn thing about your klepto tendencies. What I will say is that you have nothing to worry about if you decide commando is the way to go this morning. You don’t need to hide your assets under any amount of clothing.”
“God, another smooth talker. You’re as bad as Hollywood,” Georgia said, slipping on the hoodie which was a snug fit, but it covered her girls.
“Henna hates hearing you call him that, you know.”
“Tough shit. Her dad loves it,” Georgia said, zipping up. “How are you this morning?”
“Just frustrated. It’s not fatal. I suffer from that condition a lot.”
“You need to date more, Vassal. Try my daughter’s business. She runs a pricey dating service. That’s how I met Hollywood.”
“Brent paid to date you?” Vassal said in disbelief, leading the way back to the front door.
“No. I was fixing the toilet there and he…” Georgia stopped at the stunned look on the younger man’s face. “It’s a story that probably needs a glass of wine to believe. I’ll tell you some other time.”
Snorting, Vassal nodded. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you home. Thank heavens it’s Sunday. I don’t have to go into work.”
“Have you eaten?” Georgia asked.
“No. Are you offering to cook for me?”
Georgia laughed. “Me cooking would not be repaying you for the ride home. I will buy you breakfast anywhere we can get in with me looking like this. Hang on a minute.”
She toed off the doggy slippers and parked them by the front door. Putting her hand on a laughing Vassal’s arm, she put her pumps back on. She looked like hell, but it made her laugh. Not caring was the best thing about being older.
“Okay. Now I’m ready. How do I look?”
“Is this one of those trick questions where any answer I give is going to get me in trouble?”
Georgia chuckled. “I never realized how easily men get upset when asked to be honest. Look, I’ll make this easy for you. I know I look like shit, but I’m starving. The question is really down to whether or not you’re ashamed to be seen with me.”
Vassal’s smile was wide. “Georgia, any guy who’d be ashamed of being with you deserves to have his man card pulled. How’s your ego this morning?”
“Rock solid. Why?”
Vassal grinned. “I know the perfect place to eat. Just amp that attitude of yours and we’ll be fine.”
“What was your favorite duty station?”
Georgia forked the fluffy eggs into her mouth. She loved the food here, but she hadn’t wanted to steal Vassal’s thunder. He thought he’d brought her somewhere she’d never been. One thing she appreciated about Hollywood was that his ego didn’t dent easily. That was sort of a masculine requirement for her after being around military men most of her life.
“There was this amazing Air Force base in Crete. It was so beautiful there. That was before the children came along. The base is closed now. We stayed two years. It was like a wonderful, extended honeymoon in an exotic place. I was very sad to leave.”
“Wow, Greece. Where else have you lived?”
Georgia stopped to think. Those two plus decades of military life felt like a lifetime ago now. Right after her husband had died, she’d downsized to the small retirement house. It was less expensive and less upkeep for a woman living alone.
“Let’s see. I’ve lived in London, Italy, Texas, Alabama, Florida… the list is pretty long. We were stateside more than overseas. Sometimes we stayed a year in one place, but never more than three. That’s the way the military works.”
A tall, glaring woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “This is not the date I expected you to bring here for breakfast, Georgia Bates. Where’s Brent? Did you kill him?” she asked, glancing at Vassal. “Hello, pretty young man who obviously doesn’t know who he’s dining with.”
Vassal was so stunned by her greeting, he laughed in Trudy’s face. Georgia rolled her eyes when Trudy looked back her direction and grinned.
“How are your eggs? We tried something different this morning. And I want the truth. Did you kick Brent to the curb already? Ann and Jellica bet you’d decimate him. I was betting you’d bring him to his knees and having him begging.”
Georgia snorted. “The eggs are fine and Brent had to go to the hospital to see a patient. Vassal picked me up in Brent’s foyer. What can I say? I’m easy. All it takes is an offer of breakfast and a ride home. I didn’t have the nerve to call the limo driver back. Leonard was very nice though. We talked about our grandchildren on the ride to the ball.”
Vassal grinned at her story and clapped for it.
“Stop,” Georgia said, laughing at his actions. “Trudy, this is Vassal Milano, my walk of shame partner. He says he slept on the couch last night. I, however, did not. Vassal, this is Chef Trudy Baker. She cooked your eggs.”
“Hello,” Trudy said, smiling at him for real. “I didn’t actually cook them. I just oversaw their preparation.” She turned back to Georgia. “Did you have anything good to eat at the ball?”
“The cheese cubes were to die for,” Georgia reported, grinning at Trudy’s glare. “Oh, come on. How could I eat? There was no corn casserole or pigs-in-a-blanket. I gagged once on duck pâté. You’re the only chef I know who can make that taste less like shit.”
“Oh My God,” Trudy said sharply, lifting both hands in the air.
Around them, all talking stoppe
d to listen to her rant. Georgia pursed her lips and tried for an innocent look.
“Plebian!” Trudy accused loudly. “You’re not allowed to talk about corn casserole in my restaurants.”
Georgia laughed loudly too, uncaring of the attention. She glanced at Vassal who’d noticed the whole restaurant had turned their way, but the man hadn’t once grimaced at the scene she and Trudy were making. Giving how young and how stuffy he was, she gave him major points for that.
Trudy grinned widely. “Well, at least you had an eventful evening and didn’t leave early. Breakfast is on the house today—and don’t argue with me over it. You’re going home wearing clothes that don’t belong to you… or me. I consider that worthy of a free breakfast.”
“I couldn’t find my bra this morning so I had to steal some of my outfit. The Bengals jacket is Hollywood’s daughter’s. The pants are his. I took his shirt for a souvenir. How did I do for my first night of debauchery in twenty years?”
Trudy caught a wait person by their arm. “Mallory, have Bud send a pitcher of mimosas to this table. Double the champagne. These two are celebrating their eggs.”
“Right away, Chef Baker,” the wait person said, ignoring the strangeness of the request as she hurried off to do as asked.
“I love the sound of deference in the morning,” Trudy said, beaming. She reached down and hugged Georgia. “You smell like men’s cologne.”
“Thanks,” Georgia declared. “I used the only thing I found in his bathroom.”
“I can’t wait for coffee this week. Let’s do it at my house. I’ll make chocolate croissants.”
“Wow, we really are celebrating. I thought we only did when you got… lucky,” Georgia said. She was going to say ‘got laid’, but she knew that would be pushing the politeness limit too far with the patrons around her all listening to every word.
Trudy was off to the kitchen after a short goodbye. Georgia sighed, but took a full glass of mimosa when it arrived. Hollywood would probably have loved this. Too bad he hadn’t been able to stick around for their morning after.
Vassal picked up his phone. “What was the name of that dating service again?”
Georgia laughed. She liked Vassal. He was a mostly good-humored male, but dumb about women if he thought Mariah could fix his inability to see what was in front of his nose. If Henna hadn’t liked him, she would have slept with him to get even with Justin. He should be flattered that she didn’t because it meant she cared about what he thought of her.
“It’s called The Perfect Date. Look up Dr. Mariah Bates and skip the radio stuff in the search. That’s my daughter. She’s the owner of the business.”
Vassal nodded. “I suddenly have a craving to date older women. You and your friend seem to be lots more fun than anyone I’ve gone out with in ages.”
“What about Henna? She was pretty fun last night. And it sure took you two a long time to flip a simple switch.”
Vassal shrugged. “We connected, but she’s so negative about her life. That’s a pretty big wall she’s built… especially for an ego wounded man like me to scale. Everyone needs some positive motivation. Not once did she say she even liked me.”
“You build walls when you lose faith in people,” Georgia said, knowing hers were totally down this morning. “Maybe I should get Mariah to add Henna to her database. Her dad would probably pay for it.”
Vassal frowned over that. “I wasn’t suggesting Henna needed to change her dating habits.”
“Weren’t you?” Georgia asked with a shrug. “Well, I think it would do her a world of good to see that all men are not like Jackass Justin.”
“That’s true, but…”
“But what? You want her to sit around being miserable while you go have fun with other women? Isn’t that what your ex-wife did to you? Vassal, surely you don’t really want that for Henna.”
Vassal made a face. “Perhaps that did sound like what I was saying. That’s not what I should be feeling, is it?”
“Do I really have to answer that for you?” Georgia said, giving him the eye.
Vassal chuckled. “You’re worse than my mother.”
“Which is why you don’t really want to date someone older. You need someone making the same mistakes you are. That’s the advantage of being youthful together. Get your ass back over to Henna’s wing of the mansion as soon as you can. Make her go do something fun with you. Drag her back to life. You two will figure things out soon enough.”
“Where were you last year when I was working through my problems? I don’t know why I ever bothered with a therapist.”
“I don’t know why anyone ever bothers with one. What most people need is a bigger pair of balls. Life is about making mistakes and learning from them.”
“Was Brent a mistake for you?” Vassal asked.
“No,” Georgia said. “I don’t see us having any more staying power than he had with those other women that weren’t right. But whatever happens is ours to work out.”
“Now who’s lost faith?” Vassal chastised.
Though her tongue was freer than most, Georgia did have a sense of when she needed to keep something to herself. This was one of those times. She’d been asking herself that question about faith since she woke up alone.
One night of great sex—and it had been great—wasn’t really enough to base a relationship on. Neither was a sweet conversation at 3 am that she couldn’t stop reliving in her head.
Bottom line? They were moving too fast and yet she couldn’t seem to say no to him. That was dangerous for her because one little tip over the edge would push her into emotions she wouldn’t have the will to fight.
Even after the short time she and Hollywood had spent together getting along, she could already tell becoming discarded wife number 5 would destroy her.
Chapter Sixteen
“Oh My God…” Georgia exclaimed in shock.
Vassal pulled up in front of Georgia’s house and grabbed her arm to keep her from getting out. “No, stay right where you are. Call the police first.”
“Mariah’s beau is a policeman.” She’d answered, her brain on autopilot.
“Dial 911 and report it as a crime,” Vassal directed. He took her purse from her hands and pulled the phone from it.
“Call your daughter first,” he ordered.
Georgia nodded numbly and speed dialed Mariah. Someone had spray painted ‘bitch’ across the front of her house in black. All the flower pots were overturned. Bushes had been mangled. One window had even been broken, but the damage hadn’t done more than make a hole. The worst was her garage door which had been severely dented. The vandal had been angry and had obviously wanted to scare her. It had worked, but her curiosity was stronger than the fear.
“I knew Katrina was nuts, but this is going too far. She probably needs her meds checked again. Her daughter doesn’t care a whit about her. The woman needs to be in a facility and watched.”
“Katrina? Who’s that?” Georgia asked.
“My former mother-in-law and the weird one who kept saying Brent owed her the fountain. Their marriage lasted all of six weeks. When Brent found out Katrina had lied about nearly everything she’d ever told him, he tossed her out. His marriage, mine, and Henna’s all ended about the same time. Well, Henna kept trying to fix hers, but that didn’t last much longer. When I found out about Justin and my wife, it was over in that moment for me. The rest was just divorce court stuff.”
Georgia sighed, her blissful morning ruined. Was this what she had to look forward to if she and Hollywood dated? How many other women would suddenly appear to torture her? At least she knew why, but that still wasn’t going to pay to remove the obscenity from the siding on her house.
“Since I now know what those women lost, I can understand them being upset about me. They’re still wrong to want to use him just to get an easy life. But I understand now that he’s always going to be the great guy who got away.”
“Katrina never had what you have with Bre
nt. None of them did. Brent likes you, Georgia. I wish I’d had the ironclad prenups he managed to get his wives to sign. I lost a car and a house to my ex. She’s since sold both and used the money to pay for breast implants. She’s only twenty-five. Her forty year old fiancée likes her better now I hear. Why can’t her wacko mother move on? Get some therapy and get over it, I say.”
Her head was shaking. Georgia had an awareness of it moving, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. Vassal was talking about a way of thinking that was as foreign to her as living in Crete had been. Her life had been one of raising children and supporting her military husband. Everything she did for herself outside of those things was to take the best care she could of what she’d been born with. She’d paid in sweat for every toned ounce of flesh.
Mariah had rightly freaked when she’d told her about the vandalism and then ordered her to stay out of the house until help got there. Already having decided that was best, Georgia remained in Vassal’s comfortable BMW while they waited.
Ten minutes after the call, a policeman arrived. They walked around with him and looked at the damage. Two elderly neighbors emerged from their homes across from Georgia’s. Each reported hearing a woman yelling obscenities in the early hours of the morning, but neither had seen her or knew what she’d been doing.
“There’s a hammer by your garage,” Vassal reported.
Georgia walked over and looked at it. “That’s mine. I had it on the back porch doing some repairs.”
The officer bagged the hammer for evidence and promised to see if they could get any prints off it. Two more officers arrived and one set about dusting the door frame and the garage door. The first officer passed off the garage denting weapon to him.
Some twenty minutes later, they let Georgia enter the house. Nothing had been touched inside. The deadbolts had thankfully done their job, but the back porch was as much a mess as the front. Everything on it had been thrown into the yard. The flowers in the back had been knocked over and stomped to a pulp.
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