Haven’t laid eyes on Georgia, either.
Her showing up threw me for a fuckin’ loop. I hadn’t seen her since that day at the store. I figured I wouldn’t see her again at all—especially with me moving to Heart Springs and leaving Wildwood behind. It was easier that way. Cleaner. But then she called me, said she’d been in an accident and needed my help.
I damn near lost my fuckin’ mind.
Hearing her sweet voice again cracked something open. And seeing her? Walking around my house, all sunshine and fire, redcurls lit up in the morning light, freckles on display, and that damn mouth running?
It was too much. Too easy. Toocomfortable.
And because it felt so fucking good, I let myself relax. Dropped my guard. Talked more than I meant to, shared things I shouldn’t have. All I could see was her in my space—smiling in my kitchen, toes curling in the hallway, laughter bouncing off the walls like she belonged there.
Wanted to kiss her, touch her, wrap her up and breathe her in. And yeah, maybe I crossed some lines. Maybe I scared her. But fuck, I couldn’t help myself. Something about Georgia Walker makes me feel alive. Hopeful for shit I gave up on a long time ago. When she’s near, I lose my mind a little bit, and fuck me, I love the way that feels.
I fixed her tire after she disappeared toward the supply shed with my mom. Then I waited around longer than I needed to—pretending I had things to do. Truth is, I was hoping to catch sight of her again. Say something that didn’t come out wrapped in sex or sarcasm. Ask her what the real reason she agreed to help with my mom’s project is.
She really just being a good, kind hearted woman, picking up the slack people like me are leaving behind, or was she secretly hoping to run into me?
Wanted to ask her more than anything else, but Georgia’s smart. And if I had to guess, she was watching too. Waiting for me to leave.
The second I got called into the bathroom reno, she slipped in, got her keys, and slipped back out without a word.
Haven’t seen her since.
But I haven’t stopped thinking about her either.
“Really is nice down here,” Griffin says, breaking the silence. “Hell of a lot nicer than back home.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, taking it in. “I’ve missed it.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “You happy to be back?”
We cross the street, passingSlab Happy, and a laugh slips free. “Where else can you find a butcher and party supply store in one?”
“Small towns are weird as fuck.”
I arch a brow at him. “You’re the one who wants to move here.”
After three weeks, his comment to uproot his life—and Wilder’s—hasn’t gone by the wayside like I thought it would. If anything, Griff is more convinced than ever.
He’s already talking about looking for a place to live, how long it’ll take him to sell off his small plot in the country back home and get his horses here.
“Time for a change,” he says simply with a shrug. “Nothing keeping me back there anymore.”
I hear the words he’s not saying, but I don’t push for more. He’s not like Wilder—when Griffin Sterling doesn’t want to talk about something, there’s no amount of prying, alcohol or otherwise, that’ll get him to open up.
Wilder, on the other hand, needs a half a beer, a pat on the back, and a little bit of willing silence, and the floodgates inevitably spill open.
“What about work?” I ask, changing the subject. “JP was pissed when I quit. If you seriously move here, you gonna stay at Iron Shield?”
Griffin grins, green eyes twinkling. “I quit the same day as you.”
I stop cold in the middle of the sidewalk and gape at him.
“So did Wild,” he tacks on, rolling back on his boots.
I stare at the man I’ve looked up to since I was eighteen—my mentor, my brother in every way that matters, the guy who stepped in when my dad couldn’t, and for the first time in the decade I’ve known him, he’s actually managed to shock me speechless.
Griff slaps my back and chuckles. “Knew that one would short-circuit your system.”
