Page 84 of Georgia-Blue & Hudson

I turn to her. “George, I don’t want you to be someone you’re not?—”

“That came out wrong,” she quickly amends. “I just meant, we can hold hands and flirt and you can touch me like you can’t do at home.”

I’m going to fucking hell.

Instead of agreeing, or telling her that we’re insane and we need to stop immediately, the next words out of my mouth shock me. “I had a great time last night.”

She looks up at me. “Me too. Not just the ‘losing my V-card’ thing.”

“I also meant the other stuff, not just that.”

“So it wasn’t that good for you?”

I tip my head. “Princess, it was fucking amazing.”

She smiles wickedly, a spring in her step. “That’s good to hear. I was almost afraid to ask.”

I shake my head. “You think it’s every day a man gets to lay a pretty little virgin in his bed?”

“It was technicallymybed, but who’s counting.”

“I think it wastechnicallythe hotel’s bed, but that’s apples and oranges.”

We stop outside the nearest burger bar and peruse the menu on the door. It looks fine. “You good with here?” I look down at her.

She’s biting her lip in that adorable way. “Sure.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You insisting on carrying all my bags.”

“What else am I good for if not carrying shitloads of your crap?”

“I can think of one thing.” She gives me a wink.

I chuckle. “Let’s get a table.”

We eat and talk and just hang out. It’s a little surreal because I’ve never spent this much time with her, and not in a setting likethis. Sure, we’ve eaten as a group at the Stone’s Throw Cafe and the bakery a million times, but this is different.

Georgia tells me about her plans for marketing Brooklyn’s new line, and how Japan just placed a huge order and everyone’s so proud of him. We all know the Bassett family works hard, but Brooklyn’s new line of artisan coffee inspired whiskey is bringing in all kinds of new clients from all over the world. I listen as she chats away, and I try not to think about work and what my dad’s doing on the farm, hence the reason I couldn’t be away too long.

When we get back to the hotel, I head to my room after dropping all of Georgia’s bags off. “I guess I’ll just send my suitcase over to your room,” I laugh, setting all her shopping bags down.

“You can send yourself while you’re at it.”

The next few days are filled with the same thing: sex. Waking up with her. Swimming in the pool and taking walks. I’m the most relaxed I’ve ever been.

When it’s our last night, I’m not even sure I want it to end.

We sit on the edge of the pool after a cocktail, listening to the singer at the restaurant adjacent to the pool. Georgia looks up at the sky. “Do you ever miss bull riding?” she asks out of nowhere.

“Not so much these days. I don’t like who I was back then.”

She turns to look at me. “How so?”

“I drank a lot. Ran with the wrong crowd for a time. Like I said before, Bucko probably did me a favor in the end.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “Do you like being back in Stoney Creek, or is it an obligation to be on the farm?”

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