Georgie on His Mind

by Jennifer Shirk

  "Well, of course, I do!" Brad shot to his feet and started pacing the room. "I'm her brother. She doesn't have anyone but me to butt into her life. Sheesh. But she acts as though it were a federal crime. Believe me, it's not. I should know."

  Walt shot up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, take it easy. I was just asking.""

  "Huh? Oh" Brad sighed, slowly rubbing his face and then pressing his fingers into his eye sockets. "Sorry. I think looking out for Georgie is making me a little crazy. I don't know what goes on in her brain sometimes. She doesn't always make the best decisions for herself."

  Walt let that comment slide. He saw for himself Georgie's less than perfect decision-making process this morning at the pharmacy, but decided not to share that information with Brad. Good Lord. All he needed was to get a man who was licensed and trained to shoot a firearm more upset than he already was.

  I mean, you should have seen some of the characters she had lined up to go out with," Brad said, frowning down at him. "Do you remember Tim Clark from swim club?"

  Walt crushed the beer can he had in his hand.

  She wanted to go out with Tim Clark?

  In ninth grade, Tim had gotten two days' suspension for sneaking into the girls' locker room and hiding out in the showers. He wasn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, and perhaps a little too curious as a preteen too. What was she thinking? A girl like Georgie shouldn't be dating a character like that.

  Brad pointed to the mutilated can Walt still had clutched in his fist. "My sentiments exactly. Which is why I need you to do me a favor."

  Walt had a sudden pleasant mental picture of showing up at Tim Clark's home and making certain the guy would never bother Georgie again, so he nodded without hesitation. "Sure. Anything you want."

  "Great," Brad said, flopping down on the sofa next to him. "Because I'd like you to keep an eye on Georgie for me"

  Keep an eye on Georgie?

  Walt nearly fell over. The beer he'd just finished must have already gone to his head, so he reached for his pizza again and shoved half of it in his mouth, thinking he needed more food to combat the effects of the alcohol. He couldn't have heard Brad right. What Brad had probably said was, "I'd like you to dye Georgie's hair for me" Yeah. That's what he must have said. That made more sense.

  Okay, not really. But compared to the latter, it was starting to sound like a much more attractive alternative.

  "I'm sorry," he said, choking down the pizza and returning his attention to Brad, "I must not have heard you right. What did you say?"

  "I said I'd like you to keep an eye on Georgie for me" He had heard right. Why did he have to be such a loyal friend? Now he could have kicked himself for being so readily agreeable to Brad's requests. Threatening and possibly causing some bodily harm to a potential boyfriend of his friend's sister was one thing, but this ... spying on her business was too much to ask. Especially for a sister who looked like she could be a contender on America's Next Top Model.

  "No," he blurted. "No way. When I said I'd do anything you want, I meant anything you want but that ... and murder and extortion. Throw arson on that list too"

  "Why not? Don't you care even the smallest bit about what happens to my-our-little sister?"

  Walt gritted his teeth. "Of course I do. But stalking crosses the line, and you know it."

  "Stalking?" Brad made a face, drawing back as if he'd been asked to host a Pampered Chef party. "I didn't say anything about stalking. All I want you to do is stick close to her and check out who she talks to ... see where she goes ... maybe find out what kind of guys are approaching her. That sort of thing. Then report it all back to me."

  "Right. My mistake then"

  Brad ran his hands over his head and sighed. "Look, you don't know what I've been living with, so give me a break here. Ever since she came back from college, she hasn't been dating the right kind of men, or even trying to date the right kind of men. She needs to spend time with someone who really deserves her."

  For a brief moment Walt's heart stopped, but then as he looked into Brad's eyes he realized he'd misunderstood his friend's intent. Brad wasn't suggesting he date his sister at all. What a relief. How did something so bizarre as him dating Georgie even enter his mind anyway? He couldn't possibly want to date his best friend's sister.

  To cover up the sudden awkwardness, Walt placed his hands over his heart with mock seriousness. "I'm touched, man. Really. But I can't-"

  "I'm not talking about you, ding-dong. Sheesh. You're the last man on earth I'd want touching my sister. Or even looking at my sister that way."

  "Gee, you really know how to make a guy feel special."

  Brad's solemn expression finally cracked, and he laughed out loud. "Aw, shut up. You know what I mean. You're like family to us. Besides, you're not even Georgie's type. I owe it to my parents to make sure she's settled in her life. They were always harping on me to take care of her because she's younger. And I never did. I always assumed it was their job, not mine. Well, now that they're gone, I'm finally going to step up to the plate. But I need your help. So, take her out and make sure she meets an okay guy for once. You know, be a brother to her. I'd be one myself, but if Georgie thinks I'm interfering in her life one more time, she'll flip out"

  Walt set his jaw and tried to bank down his growing resentment. As crazy as it seemed, something irked him about not being considered Georgie's type, and he couldn't help wondering who exactly her brother thought was her type. But he called himself a fool and brushed the thought away.

  Get your head together, stupid.

  Walt rubbed the tips of his fingers along his eyebrows to ward off the King Kong headache he suddenly felt looming. "All right, wait a sec. Let me get this straight." If he could. Maybe he was the sane one after all, and Brad was the one who had the beer affecting him. "You want me to stalk-er, I mean-spend time with your sister so we can make sure she meets a decent guy? Is that right?"

  Brad looked grim as he took a few seconds to think it over. "Yeah. That's pretty much it in a nutshell. What do you say?"

  "I say you've completely lost your mind."

  "No, I haven't. You don't understand. I really need you to do this for me. At least until she's married. No, scratch that. Until she at least gets her pharmacy license and gets settled with her job. How about that? Come on, I'd feel so much better about her going out knowing you were keeping an eye on her and steering her in the right direction."

  Walt stared at the pleading-almost pathetic-appeal in his friend's eyes. Poor Brad. The stress of being a policeman had finally gotten to him. The guy really had his sympathy for having an attractive, if overly impulsive, sister. But despite the things Brad had said, he was sure Georgie didn't need her hand held every waking moment. Walt had enough on his plate trying to get situated into town and handling the pharmacy while his uncle was out.

  "Look," he said, with an apologetic grin, "I just can't do it. I'm sorry. You know I think of Georgie as my own sister, but I'll already be spending enough time with her at the pharmacy. Believe me, she'd get suspicious if I suddenly wanted to spend time with her outside of work too"

  "No, man, she wouldn't. I think-"

  "Listen to me, Brad. You don't have anything to worry about, okay? When I spoke to Georgie earlier today, she seemed to have quite a level head on her shoulders." If you took the whole condom fiasco out of the equation, that is. The woman could be reasoned with too. After all, she'd listened to him and hadn't entered that date contest. That was one crisis Brad wouldn't have to deal with.

  Brad nodded, but looked as depressed as a six-year-old who'd just found out Santa had been run over by a disgruntled Rudolph. "All right," he said, playing with the tab on his beer can. "I guess you're right. Maybe I should give her a little more credit."

  Brad hardly sounded grateful, but Walt forced himself not to give in. Instead he went into the kitchen and grabbed Brad another beer. It was the least he could do for a guy who had been there for him after his parents' divorce
all those years ago. Walt appreciated him all the more and was sorry he couldn't help his friend out, but he had to draw the line at being Georgie's chaperone. His less-than-brotherly reaction to her earlier today told him if he didn't keep himself in check, he could get himself into some serious trouble. Which only meant the more distance he created away from "his little sister," the better off his friendship with Brad would be.

  Georgie had lasted this long without a personal bodyguard. Brad needed to chill out and stop worrying. She could run her own life. After all, what kind of problems could she possibly cause for herself?

  The next morning Georgie woke before her alarm clock went off. She slowly stretched in bed, smiling at the Good Samaritan act she had performed for her brother last night. Brad was going to be so surprised when he found out about the date contest. Maybe if he won and got out a little more, he'd start acting more like a brother and less like a mother hen.

  Georgie had stopped at Dee's house last night after work, and they'd celebrated their cleverness with Dee's husband over a glass of wine and some chocolate fondue. Surprisingly, Brad hadn't called to check up on her when she hadn't come home. He was acting less like a prison warden already. Maybe that was because he was too busy entertaining Walt Somers.

  Georgie quickly buried her head under her pillow with a groan. Up until that point, she'd forgotten Walt was even staying with them. The man was probably putting his feet up on their coffee table, slurping up the last of the coffee, and thumbing through her new Pharmacy Today magazine right about now, just waiting for the opportunity to bring up their embarrassing encounter at the store yesterday. Suddenly, the idea of calling in sick became quite attractive. There was nothing better she wanted to do than to avoid Walt and his smug little "sit tight and don't do anything rash" comments.

  She glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Brad would be at work by now since he was on day shifts this week at the police department, which meant he wouldn't be available to be a buffer between her and Walt. Oh well. No use putting off the inevitable. She climbed out of bed, gathered her hair into a high ponytail and sauntered out of her bedroom, hoping Walt had somehow found a place of his own already. Like that miracle was going to happen anytime soon.

  Something smelled wonderful as soon as she stepped into the living room. Not the usual kind of wake-up call she was used to, not since her parents had died. Brad wasn't really a cook. But then again, neither was she. She supposed if she ever truly wanted to master the whole independent-woman principle she was so gung ho about, she would have to learn one day.

  Her nose led her toward the kitchen where the aroma of eggs and bacon became stronger, and her stomach grumbled. She turned the corner, and that's when she saw Walt standing in front of the stove. And she froze.

  He's hot. But it's only Walt, she tried to remind herself as she quickly realigned her gaze toward the white paint-cracked ceiling.

  Yes, it was only Walt. The same Walt who'd locked her in the bathroom when she was eleven, then pretended to her family he hadn't seen her. Yeah, remember that, brain? That Walt. Besides, he was only frying eggs. A normal, everyday activity. No big deal.

  She took a few deep, calming breaths. Confident with her regained composure, she allowed her gaze to slowly travel downward again.

  Ah. See? No big deal. Walt cooking breakfast was no big deal. Except ...

  The man was cooking breakfast there in her kitchen wearing low-cut jeans-very low-cut jeans-and nothing else. She tried to avert her eyes again, but something about the "nothing else" part of Walt's ensemble would not be ignored a second time. Not when his beefcake arms and bare broad chest looked as good as his did right then.

  Down, girl.

  Walt looked over at her and laughed. "I take it you're hungry."

  She snapped her mouth shut and brushed by him to get to the refrigerator. She was being silly. It's not like she'd never seen a man without his shirt before. She lived in a beach resort for goodness sakes! Besides, Walt didn't look that perfect. His tan even looked a bit marred. Obviously, he was going a little easy on the sunscreen, due to the redness she saw around his navel, just above ...

  Oh, who was she kidding? Marred tan or not, Walt couldn't have looked more delicious if he were wearing those bacon and eggs he was so proficiently cooking.

  "I'm not hungry at all," she said, proud of the way she didn't gargle her words due to the excess amount of drool in her mouth. "What you're cooking isn't on my diet anyway."

  "Diet? Oh, come on. You shouldn't want to lose any weight. You look-" He turned and slid his gaze down her body and those scruffy cheeks of his turned bright pink, just as they had the other day at the store when she'd asked if he'd carried condoms. He jerked his head away and fumbled for a bagel. "Here"-he said, dangling it out for her-"be a good girl and eat something."

  "Thanks," she said, plucking the bagel from his hand. She couldn't help but grin. There was something about an attractive thirty-one-year-old man blushing at her body that was kind of ... cute.

  "I'll only eat half. A woman's got to work a little harder than a girl to keep her figure, you know."

  "Enjoy," he mumbled, turning away and giving his eggs a little flip. "You know, I shouldn't even be cooking for myself today."

  She sliced her bagel and looked up. "What do you mean?"

  "Don't you remember? You were supposed to cook me breakfast in exchange for not telling Brad about that whole condom mix-up. Forget about that already? I wonder what Brad would say when he hears about you trying to take over his job of law enforcement?"

  Georgie put the knife down slowly-before she used it on something other than her bagel. She knew it. She knew Walt wouldn't let go what happened the other day. Reining in her anger, she poured herself a glass of juice and took a long, thoughtful sip.

  Scratch all that likeable mumbo jumbo she'd just thought about him. Walt didn't want to play nice, and he seemed to take a sudden interest in making her life downright miserable. No matter how attractive he happened to be when he blushed, he was back on her hit list. "You know you're a rat, don't you?"

  "You mentioned that yesterday."

  "Well, I don't think it sunk in."

  He chuckled, and she couldn't help but notice how the green in his hazel eyes lit up. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "Really I am. You're just so easy to rile up I can't resist teasing you. Whenever I see you, it's like when you were little." When she was little.

  Her heart sank. She turned away and went back to lightly buttering her bagel. It seemed as though everyone had a hard time accepting she wasn't the same little girl anymore, except maybe a few friends. The little girl-sister box people kept putting her in was stifling. She wasn't sure how much more she could take of it. She needed out.

  "Clay Hayes won't think of me as someone's little sister," she blurted, then bit her lip. She didn't know why she felt like throwing Clay Hayes in Walt's face again, or why she even felt she had something to prove to him in the first place, but the way Walt's cheek muscle twitched when she mentioned Clay's name satisfied a small sadistic part of her.

  Walt carefully removed the frying pan from the burner and folded his arms. "Clay Hayes? I thought we already discussed him yesterday."

  She shrugged her shoulders and tried for an innocent look. "I suppose we did."

  "So why did you bring him up again then? You don't plan on trying to find out where his house is around here like one of his groupies, do you?"

  "Of course not. I guess I just don't see what your problem is with me going out with a handsome TV star."

  Walt clucked his tongue. "Oh, come on, Georgie. Take a look at yourself."

  She continued to look at him instead. She assumed, like Dee, he wasn't being literal, so she resisted the urge to snap her head down and stare at her faded Red Sox sleep shirt.

  "My problem is," he continued, "the guy is a goodlooking-no, an okay-looking-television star, and you would be spending the day with him. Probably at his beach house. Alone. Catch my drift? Why
do you think celebrities have contests like this? To prey on innocent starstruck women. It's a good thing you listened to me, and you didn't enter."

  A good thing she listened to him?

  Walt was doing it again, telling her what to do. How dare he suggest the Clay Hayes contest was a fraud. She grabbed her bagel and took a huge bite, shooting him daggers with her eyes as she chewed. Who made him the end-all-be-all-datecontest authority anyway?

  Her silence must have alerted him to what she had done, because his face took on a dubious expression. "Georgie, you ... you didn't enter that contest, right?"

  Would have served you right if I had. She swallowed and waited until she felt the bagel reach her stomach before answering, just to let him stew a little while longer. "No, as a matter of fact I did not enter-"

  "Thank God," he breathed.

  "-because I entered Brad."

  Walt raised his eyebrows, staring at her as if she'd just told him she'd poisoned someone and needed suggestions on where to hide the body. When he finally became capable of moving again, he took her hand and shook it. "Well, it's been nice knowing you, because when Brad finds out he's going to skin you alive."

  A twinge of alarm shot to the core of her stomach. Funny how she had only briefly thought Brad might have a negative reaction to the contest news. Hearing the words come from Walt's mouth made it sound like more than a good possibility her hide would be filleted, doused with gasoline, and set on fire. Eeww. She should have listened to her gut instincts. Darn her impetuousness! She only wanted to see her brother get out more and have some fun. Was that so wrong? Wrong enough to get skinned alive for?

  "Oh my gosh, you're right! Don't tell him!" she begged. "He'll never have to know if he doesn't win anyway, right?"

  "And what if he does win, Einstein?"

  She scrunched her face and thought. There was still a slim chance Brad would appreciate her thoughtfulness, right? She had been so desperate to get her brother off her back, she hadn't bothered to think that far ahead.