Page 19 of Any Luck at All

For a moment, the cat just stared at her, her green eyes glowing with an almost human understanding. Then she arched her back and hissed again, spun around, and slunk off.

“Okay,” Georgie said, her heart racing. “I’ll take it.”

She eased her way out of the bathroom and found River washing his wrists in the kitchen sink while talking to someone on speaker phone.

“You’re sure Jezebel will be okay?” he asked.

A woman answered, “I suspect she didn’t eat many hops, if any at all, but keep an eye on her. If she starts to act strangely…well,morestrangely…you should call an emergency vet.”

“Okay, thanks, Maisie.” He hesitated, then said, “Are you free for breakfast tomorrow? Something big happened today, and I need to get your opinion on finding another job.”

“What?” she screeched.

He must have sensed Georgie standing in the doorway because he said, “I’ve gotta go. I’ll explain in the morning. Text me when you’re ready.”

Then he pressed his phone with his wet finger to end the call.

Georgie started to ask him why he was looking for a job. Sure, he’d mentioned the situation with Finn, but it felt wrong to pry. If he’d wanted to talk about it more, he would’ve…right? Instead, he’d called someone else—someone he knew. For all she knew, the woman on the phone had been his girlfriend, a thought that made her feel surprisingly jealous.

River wasn’t hers—she’d only met him hours ago—and she’d do best to remember that.

“I called my friend Maisie to make sure Jezebel’s okay,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I’d read somewhere that hops are poisonous to some cats and dogs. She might be an ornery old thing, but Beau loved her.”

Georgie gasped in horror. “I had no idea…”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, waving her worry away. “That cat is the terror of the neighborhood. A few hops aren’t going to bring her down.”

She gave him a wry grin. “She did just corner me in the bathroom.”

He grinned back, his eyes twinkling as he turned off the water and grabbed a couple of paper towels. “You survived a face-off with Jezebel, huh? I’m impressed.” Nodding to his arms, he said, “I figured I’d wash the scratches with soap and water.”

“Good idea,” she said. “How about we sit down at the table, and I’ll put some bandages on them?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said.

She pointed to a chair. “I risked my life defying the devil cat to get these supplies, so you’re gonna sit in this chair and let me put antibiotic ointment on your scratches to keep your hands from falling off.”

He laughed and sat down.

She turned a chair so she could sit facing him, then set the box on the table and opened it up. After uncapping the antibiotic ointment, she grasped his hand, pressing her thumb against his open palm. A swarm of butterflies unleashed in her stomach, and her gaze lifted to his face. She liked staring at him. He had beautiful eyes, his black hair was thick and just the right kind of long if you asked her, and his skin was a warm bronze.

His gaze lowered to her lips before rising to meet hers again, and his fingers closed around her thumb.

Her butterflies intensified, something she couldn’t remember feeling since she’d crushed on Brian Whitby her junior year of high school, and her breathing turned shallow as she leaned closer. Something about this man had a powerful draw, but while she was usually good at cutting to the heart of things and making lists, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made him so compelling. It was more than his indisputable attractiveness, or the way he teased her, or his genuine goodness. It was all of the above rolled into this man named River, and she realized she wanted more than just a beer tutor. She wantedhim.

The look in his eyes suggested he wanted her too. He leaned forward, his hand lifting to her face. She held her breath, wanting him to kiss her more than she’d ever wanted a first kiss, when a sudden knock at the door caught her by surprise.

River sat back in his seat, his face unreadable. “I suspect that’s Jack.”

Georgie couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. “Yeah.”

“You go let him in. I’ll take care of these scratches.”

She hesitated, then stood and headed toward the front door. She paused in the threshold to the living room, casting a glance over her shoulder. River was concentrating on smearing ointment on his wrist. Jezebel had resumed her post on top of the cabinets, and had hopefully stayed her vendetta against them for the night.

She closed the distance to the front door, her heart racing for a different reason now. She was worried she’d already blown things with her half-brother. They’d had a very limited interaction at the will reading, and then she’d turned down his invitation to get a drink at the brewery. Would he hate her? Would he be aloof? She deserved it and more. How would she have felt if she’d been the odd one out?

Steeling her back, she opened the door. “Jack. Thanks for coming.”

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