Page 128 of The Invitation
“Hey,” I say, giggling as he kisses the crook of my neck. “You better stop filming, or this is going to be X-rated really quick.”
He pulls back, smiling from ear to ear. He picks up my phone and hands it to me, and then I shut it off.
“I love you, Ripley Brewer,” I say, beaming with happiness.
“Not as much as I love you, Peaches Hayes.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Georgia
“This bothers you, doesn’t it?”I take a large bite of a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie and then lay my head in the crook of Ripley’s arm. “Cookies in your bed. I bet you’re dying a little inside.”
He hums against my hair. “After going all week and not seeing you, and not being certain I ever would again, you can eat whatever the hell that you want to eat in our bed as long as you’re in it.”
I grin at theour bedline. All night, he keeps slipping little things like that into our conversations. It’sour bed. Our home. Our puppy, Waffles.It’s so damn cute, that’s what it is.
Ripley ran us a bath after he properly welcomed mehome, and we sat in the gigantic tub for over an hour just being together. I agreed to let him help move my things tomorrow, which is much faster than I anticipated when I said yes. I hesitated and almost pushed back. Then I remembered that life’s too damn short to keep waiting.Waiting for what, anyway?Time to overthink things? Time to scare the shit out of myself? Time for something to go wrong?
No, thanks. I’m done with all of that.
“Think it’s too soon to ask for a week’s vacation?” he asks, chuckling against my cheek. “I really just need a few days with you.”
“Oh! That reminds me. I quit my job yesterday.”
I stuff the rest of the cookie into my mouth.
“What? Why?”
“Well,” I say, cookie crumbs toppling out of my mouth.Oops. I pause to swallow. “It’s a long story.”
“One I want to hear.”
It’s his tone that says what he means, not the words. He’s worried. He’s concerned. He thinks something happened and he’s two seconds from getting off this bed and going to take care of it.
I’m not sure what, exactly, to tell him. I don’t want to lie to him. And he needs to know what I saw just in case it matters because I don’t know the whole story between the families, nor do I want to. It’s not my business. But this could be awkward.
I sigh. “Well …”
“Well …” he repeats, coaxing me along.
“My boss left a folder on my desk. It was an accident; he didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t realize it was there until I was trying to choke down some applesauce at lunch.”
Ripley tenses beneath me but doesn’t interrupt.
“Coincidentally, it was a folder about the Brewer family,” I say, wincing.
He pulls away, urging me to sit up and face him. So, of course, I do.
His features pull together, puzzled. “What are you talking about, Georgia?”
“It was a legal case, I think. They were suing your family, but I think it was resolved.”
“Babe, who were you working for?”
“Todd Downing.”
Ripley’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
