Page 10 of The Invitation
Chapter Three
Ripley
That woman drives me crazy.
Georgia’s perfume lingers in the air long after she’s gone. The sweetness of honey and the warmth of vanilla are irritating and intoxicating—just like her.
I try my best to ignore her because she gets too deep under my skin. She has since the first day of our senior year. She walked down the hallway to her locker, books clutched to her chest and ponytail swinging behind her. For the briefest moment, her soft, golden-colored eyes met mine, and I wobbled on my feet. I was both drawn to and terrified by the beautiful brunette in a way my teenage brain hadn’t encountered before.
That might’ve been the last time she looked at me without threatening to off me with her bare hands.
“I think she’s gone,” Tate says.
“Who?”
“Georgia.”
I turn to face him and ignore the conspiratorial grin on his face.
“You were just sitting there and staring at the exit,” he says. “I was starting to think you thought she was coming back.”
I sigh, bringing my beer to my lips.
“I was surprised to walk in and see the two of you talking civilly,” he says casually. “It almost looked like you were getting along for a moment.”
“Yeah, well, you caught the ten seconds she wasn’t being a total monster.”
“So what, you noticed she was without her monster vibes and decided to say hello?”
I snort. “Hardly. I tried to avoid her, but Sutton saw me before I could hide.”
He laughs. “I love that you hide from Georgia Hayes.”
“You say that like you think I’m scared of her.”
“Aren’t you?”
I flip him a dirty look that makes his laugh grow louder.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask, picking at the label on my beer. “Are you back for a while, or will Gannon have you leaving again next week?”
“I think my nonstop travel days are slowing down. The pressure is easing now that Dad has taken the plea deal and has been sentenced. People are starting to move on. Gannon is doing a great job leading the company, and that’s helping to gain back investor confidence. We have some work to do, mostly public facing, but we’re getting there. I’m not having to fight quite as hard.”
I smirk. “Good, because you’re a shit fighter.”
“Oh, okay.You spent some time at a gym in Vegas, and now you think you’re a fighting expert?”
“I’m just saying, the president of the world's biggest mixed martial arts studio asked me to help get his fighters in shape.”
“Emphasis ongetting his fighters in shapeand notteaching them to fight.”
“I sparred a little with some of the guys.” I take a drink, remembering how fun the experience was in Vegas. “It made me wish Dad would’ve let me take boxing when I was younger instead of forcing soccer on me.”
Tate’s features sober. “In retrospect, it was probably a choice out of self-preservation.”
“No shit.”
My insides tighten as my mind wanders to our father.
