He’d given himself enough time for about thirty minutes before the sun would set on him, and sure enough that final ride in took him to shore right as the sun went down.
He dragged his board out of the water and grabbed his stuff that he’d stashed farther up the beach, away from the tide. He draped an oversized fleece blanket around his shoulders and tucked his board under his armpit as he headed toward the parking lot. As he approached the dunes, he saw someone walking with a little dog. Passing her, he nodded and realized it was Georgie. “So, you’re a dog person after all?”
Georgie looked up and gave a cursory nod. “Oh, hey Spencer. Fancy meeting you here.” She continued walking, not even stopping to chat.
Spencer turned to follow her toward the beach, where he’d come from. “Uh, is there something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. Why would there be?”
“Well, for starters, because you’re ignoring me as if I’m a complete stranger.”
She continued walking, letting the dog lead the way. “Well, you sort of are.”
He tossed his head back, incredulous. “Not exactly,” he said, walking quickly to catch up with her. He dropped his board so he could pick up the pace. Damn, she was going at a fast clip. “I mean, after all, I did have the pleasure of having my cock buried deep inside of you not too long ago. And we did exchange plenty of body fluids.”
Georgie turned and tugged on the dog’s leash so it would stop. “Yeah, so nothing new for you, am I right? I’m taking a page from your book. The last thing I want to be is some pity fuck of yours, so I’ve figured out how to be as uncaring about having sex with strangers as you have.”
“Pity fuck? Is that what you think that was? A pity fuck?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea what it was. But if I had to bet money, I’d say that was exactly your intention.”
He was freezing his ass off out here and needed to get inside his car with the heat blasting. But he wasn’t going to leave this hanging.
“Look, you knew that I don’t do relationships. I told you that. It’s not in my repertoire. But that doesn’t at all diminish what we shared.”
He looked up to see tears glistening in her eyes. Oh, no. He knew what that meant. Shit.
“Unilaterally making it a one-night stand cheapens it. Because I wasn’t worthy of you considering anything more than that.” And then bam! Cue the failing floodgates. Tears started streaming down her face. And her dog—was it her dog? Or was she merely dog sitting for someone? He didn’t even know enough about her to know if that was the case—started jumping up, his paws on her chest. Which made him mad that the dog was entitled to stick his paws on her tits yet he couldn’t. But he couldn’t because that was his decision, so he needed to stop thinking that way. The dog started licking at her face, but watching the swipes of that dog tongue catching her tears as they cascaded down her cheeks, he couldn’t help but think he should be the one dabbing at them, not the damned dog.
“Look, Georgie,” he said, extending his arms toward her. “I’d hug you, but I’m sopping wet and cold as hell. What say we at least sit in my car and discuss this? I can put on something warmer. And besides, you don’t even have a jacket on and you’re going to catch your death out here.”
But Georgie shook her head. “There’s nothing to say.” She tugged gently on the dog’s leash. “Come on, Bruiser. We need to get you back and get you fed.”
And with that, she turned and walked away from Spencer, leaving him chilled to the bone for more reason than one.
Chapter Sixteen
Georgie couldn’t console herself. Her sobs grew louder and even she knew they were getting ridiculous.
“Why am I not good enough for any man?” she cried to Margie as Bruiser finished gobbling down his dinner. Typical male, selfishly inhaling a meal while a damsel in distress was nearby. Note to self: when you get your own dog, be sure to get a female. She’d been pet sitting Bruiser for a woman she’d met at the gym, and while he was a sweet boy, Georgie was finding she wasn’t interested in having any sort of male in her life. Even a canine version. She held her phone to her shoulder while she opened a bottle of wine. It was that kind of evening.
“Sweetie, you know this has nothing to do with you,” Margie said. “It’s clearly this man’s problem. So why don’t you try to accept that it’s beyond your control. You had a nice time with him, chalk it up to life experience. And look at it this way: he taught you that Danny was even less impressive than you ever realized. That means you have a lot to look forward to in your next relationship.”
Georgie bawled even louder, so much so she almost choked. “But why am I not good enough? Why can’t he see that we truly connected? Why can’t he try it on for size?”
“Because he probably can’t. It’s not in his genetic makeup. And no amount of trying on your end will change that. I think the best thing you can do is move on, and if you run into him somewhere, say hello, talk about the weather, and be done with it.”
“But what about the quilt?” Georgie said, gasping for air between huge sobs.
“Oh honey, that darned quilt. You should enjoy it yourself and don’t even dream of giving it to him.”
“Except now every time I see it, I’ll think of him. And it’ll make me cry all over again.”
“That is quite the dilemma.” Margie paused for a moment. “How about you tuck it away in your closet. Give it some time. I’m certain you’ll eventually look at that quilt and won’t even know why you made it to begin with. Problem solved. Case closed.”
“But I want to have sex with him again.” Georgie was certain the off switch for her tears was completely broken at this point, and she would ultimately cry herself into a state of dehydration and blow away like a dried, dead leaf. “I’m going to be old soon. And no man will want to sleep with me then.”
“Don’t be silly, Georgie. There’s always Tinder.”
“How do you know about Tinder?”
“Sweetie. I’m a sixty-year-old woman with needs. Believe me, there are plenty of men you can find on Tinder if push comes to shove.”
“I can’t believe my own mother’s best friend is hooking up willy-nilly and I’m not.”
Margie burst out laughing. “Willy-nilly? I suppose you could say it was that frivolous. But it’s more like every now and then you need the satisfaction that only a man can give.”
Georgie wailed. “And now that I’ve found out about that, I won’t experience it ever again.”
“I promise you, you will, baby. But now I want you to get yourself to bed and stop your tears or the neighbors are going to think someone is beating on you.”
Georgie’s sobs were finally dying down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who to call.”
“Well, I hope you always know who to call. I’ll always be here for you, baby doll. Good night!”
“G’nite, Margie. Thanks for taking such good care of me.”
“Always, hon.”
~*~
Georgie fell asleep with Bruiser draped across her stomach. At some point numbness set in, but she was too sound asleep to even notice.
She woke in the morning to a text from Marcy of all people.
Hey Georgie! We’re having a few people over to our new place for a Christmas gathering. Hope you can make it.
Huh. Weird. Since when did Marcy want to extend hospitality toward her? Should she politely decline? Or show up and be gracious? What if it was some cruel joke, a setup by her Aunt Jeannie trying to exact revenge for the vibrator thing. She wouldn’t put it past her.
She typed back a quick reply.
Sure. I’d love to.
She was nothing if not a good liar for the cause.
Chapter Seventeen
Georgie threw on her winter coat and gave Bruiser a few last pets goodbye before leaving for work.
“Now behave yourself and don’t get into trouble.”
She worried that a dog nam
ed Bruiser would be a four-legged disaster, but so far, he’d been sweet and kind, except for the bit about eating versus helping her to lick her wounds when she was on the phone with Margie. She guessed everyone had their shortcomings, and evidently his was his stomach.
She could relate. Her stomach was growling the entire drive to work, so she naturally had to make a quick stop at Hansen’s doughnuts for a little breakfast pick-me-up. Besides, they had the best coffee in town.
She pulled into a space out front, leaving the car running so it would stay warm, and raced inside for two glazed doughnuts.
“Morning, Mrs. Hansen,” she said with a smile.
“Georgie! So nice to see you bright and early. You all ready for the holidays?”
Georgie glanced around to see the place had practically vomited Christmas—decorations were thick and plentiful, and Bing Crosby was yammering on about holly and ivy or something on the stereo. Georgie didn’t like to discuss it, but she’d given up on the Christmas spirit since Danny left. After all, they’d planned a holiday wedding, and when that all went to shit, well, so did her holiday cheer; they were inextricably tied.
She hated that, because she used to love Christmastime: the cozy, warm vibe of it, the cheesy music, the decorations, the parties. The mistletoe. Now? Well, who the hell would she kiss under the mistletoe in her place except Bruiser? And he was only there for a week. And she didn’t need a plant-based prompt to give him a big hug and a kiss—she simply did it.
Nah, she’d leave it to the Mrs. Hansens of the world to maintain that Ho-ho-ho thing. She was over the false joy of the season; she was a pragmatist now.
“Not much getting ready for me, I suppose,” she said. It went without saying that she didn’t have a mom, she’d written off her dad long ago, and she sure as hell didn’t have a man. If anything, Christmas rubbed her nose in her lack of close family.
“Did you put your tree up yet?” Mrs. Hansen wasn’t taking the hint, so Georgie figured she’d have to lie to shut her up.
“Oh, yeah. It’s a big one. Douglas fir. Must be nine feet tall with the star on top.”
Mrs. Hansen whistled. “I bet it’s a beaut.”
Georgie nodded. Sometimes it worried her how good she was at lying. At least these were friendly white lies and wouldn’t be hurtful to a soul. But for maybe herself. “Yep. Nothing like the holidays to lift your spirits up.”
She asked for her doughnuts and coffee and shifted back and forth to try to warm up while she waited.
“I hear your cousin’s got some extra special holiday news to share.”
“Marcy?”
“You mean she didn’t tell you?”
Georgie squinted her eyes. “Tell me?”
“About the little one on the way?” Mrs. Hansen poured the coffee into a to-go cup. “Leave room for cream?”
Georgie shook her head. “All the way to the top, please. I need all the fuel I can get to stay awake this early. So, you were saying?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil the surprise. Seems Marcy got married right in time, now that she has a bun in the oven.”
Bun in the oven… Wow, that was fast. She was barely married a couple of weeks. Can you even tell that quickly if you get pregnant, say, on your honeymoon? That information was not in her wheelhouse, being that to date, she’d only spent her life avoiding being pregnant rather than calculating due dates. Being married and encouraging the process was a foreign concept to her.
“Yeah. Well. Wow. How exciting for them.”
“Here are your doughnuts, hon. Now don’t tell anyone you heard it from me. Maybe that was meant to be kept a secret.”
More like Aunt Jeannie wanted to flaunt it when she sprang the news on Georgie. Her fertile daughter, naturally, who would have perfect blond-haired, blue-eyed babies who’d sleep through the night and never spit up and have perfect IQs and go to Harvard. Ugh.
~*~
By the time Georgie got to work, she couldn’t stem the flow of tears that always seemed to hold her hostage at times like this. Damned tears. Why couldn’t they go bother someone else and leave her the hell alone?
She sat in her car for a minute finishing her second doughnut—she’d gobbled the first one down faster than ole Bruiser had his dinner last night—and trying to tamp down the tears enough to go into the store without looking like someone had run over her dog.
Finally she felt like she looked presentable enough and entered the store. Only to find Harper and Noah canoodling by the cash register. Well, crap. If Noah was here at this hour, it meant that they’d come in together. And if they came in together, that meant they’d spent the night together. And if they spent the night together, that meant Georgie was the only woman on the planet who wasn’t getting it on with a man, dammit.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, but she’d tried with the wrong man, which was unfortunate. No matter how she tried, she found herself yearning for him. She liked the way his smile curled up more on one side of his face than the other. Besides the crooked smile, she liked that he was so easygoing. Not many men would have taken in stride what she’d done to his board without at least screaming some invectives her way or punching a window.
But maybe it was a sign: if she could find some happiness in Spence’s company, then surely there were other men out there whose company she could enjoy. But what were the chances she’d find one who was so skillful at pleasuring a woman? Danny had proven that such abilities weren’t a given. Which meant she was going to be relegated to a lifetime of vibrators, and no more dancing tongues to bring her to a climax like no other.
Well, poop. Those tears were surfacing again.
“Morning, Georgie!” Noah said, enveloping her in a big bear hug. Going forward, it was likely the only hug she’d ever get from a man, and that made her even sadder.
“Hey, Noah,” she said, her shoulders sagging as she set her coffee on the display case.
“Are you crying?” Harper said, scurrying over to give her friend a hug. “What’s wrong?”
Georgie’s shoulders heaved as a long, large sob released itself from her body. She’d tried so hard to hold it in, but sometimes those tears had a will of their own.
“Nothing,” she said between gasps.
“Well of course there’s something,” her friend said. “You don’t simply show up for work and start bawling.” She looked at Georgie’s face, dusting off glazed doughnut icing from the corners of her mouth. “Are you mad at yourself because you ate doughnuts?”
Georgie’s eyes opened wide. “How do you know I had doughnuts? And no! Why would I be?”
Harper held out her hands in despair. “I don’t know. I was only taking a stab in the dark to try to figure out why you are so blue.”
“It’s December!” Georgie said as a flood of tears descended yet again. That short sentence should be all anyone needed to know if they wanted to learn why Georgie was so upset.
Chapter Eighteen
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I should have realized.” She glanced at the calendar on the wall—one of those freebie calendars with kitty cats on it in seasonal attire. The December picture had three kittens asleep with miniature Santa Claus hats on their tiny heads. They were perfectly adorable. Georgie knew those kitties had lots of people—and kitties—to love them in their lives and that made her cry even more. “It would have been next week, right?”
Noah raised his hand, obviously in the dark. “Uh, what would have been next week?”
“My wedding.” Georgie bawled, even though she knew that every man worth his salt squirmed and trembled at the sight of a crying woman. She didn’t care. He was a man, and a man was to blame for her tears so he needed to man up and take credit for the rest of them. Inevitably they all were to blame at some point for breaking a woman’s heart, so there should be some sort of collective guilt owned by their half of the species.
“Oh, crap,” he said. “You were supposed to get married next w
eek? But I thought you and Spencer recently hooked up—” He pointed a finger at her and then toward the outside, the finger evidently aiming toward where Spencer lived.
Harper kicked him. “Ix-nay on encer-spay,” she said.
“What?” he said half under his breath to Harper as if Georgie couldn’t hear him. Of course she could, even past her continued crying fits.
“Georgie was engaged to be married a few years ago, and her cad of a fiancé skipped out on her weeks before the big day.”
Yep, that was Georgie’s life in a nutshell.
“Oh, Georgie, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”
She held her hand up to dismiss it. “It’s fine.” She reached for the nearby tissues and took the whole box, as one or two would not suffice under the circumstances.
“And the subject of Spencer isn’t helping matters, so let’s not discuss him either,” Harper said, elbowing Noah. He held his hands up in surrender. Clearly the females confounded him. “Right, sweetie?”
Georgie nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Spencer, the commitment-phobic commitment-phobe. And yet she couldn’t stop herself. “What’s the matter with me? Why won’t he even try to see if we could be more than fuck buddies? Not that we are fuck buddies. That was a one-time thing. And I should be ashamed of myself for capitulating like I did but you know what? I’m perfectly fine with it. I needed a good shagging, to quote Austin Powers. It had been way too long since I’d had honest-to-goodness sex with a man. And longer still since I’d had exceptional honest-to-goodness sex with a man.” She shrugged. “Who knew? Here I thought sex with all men was the same. I mean Danny was pretty perfunctory: you’re in, you’re out. You get what I mean? But Spencer—wowza. That man has a magical tongue. And I think we can leave it at that because what he did to me with that tongue was downright spiritual. I probably came six times that night.”
“Georgie—are you sure you want to get into such detail with Noah here?”
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