Page 20 of Georgia Guy
I chuckle at the silly man before answering. “It’s me, and I really mean it. We work hard, so we should play hard, too––with playing being the priority.”
“Wow, I’m loving this new you,” Brinkley weighs in. “Does this fabulous change of heart have anything to do with the tasty treat of a man you’ve been hanging around with lately?”
“Perhaps,” I answer before the wide smile spreads across my face when the idea strikes. Deciding to go all-in with my new attitude, I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Let’s get to the office around ten.”
“Ten?!?” Brinkley screeches.
I hold the phone out away from my ear, until he tempers his tone to say, “Girl, you won’t believe how gorgeous I am when I get plenty of beauty rest.”
Chuckling and shaking my head, even though he can’t see me, I say, “Can’t wait.”
After we hang up, Joe and I emerge from the back of the limo.
“I’m glad that mystery is solved,” he says as he opens his arms for me.
Without hesitating a moment, I relax into his embrace and lean my head on his wide shoulder with a happy sigh.
“How about if we send the limo driver home, so you can ride with me tonight?” he murmurs before pressing a sweet kiss to the top of my head.
My spine stiffens as I admit, “I’ve never ridden on one of those death traps before.”
“Death traps?!?” Joe teases me, pretending to be insulted. “If you truly want to live life to the fullest, there’s no better way than to let the wind whip over you on a motorcycle.”
“I don’t know…” I say slowly as I search my mind for a valid excuse not to ride with him on the terrifying two-wheeled machine.
“I promise that I’ll take good care of you.” he tells me in a sincere tone.
Realizing that there isn’t any arguing with that, I let the limo driver know that he is done working for the night. The man tips his hat and quickly leaves––likely not wanting to give me the chance to change my mind.
Joe carefully places his helmet on my head and adjusts the strap under my chin. Concerned for his safety, I ask, “What about you? You need a helmet, too.”
“I’m going to be super careful,” he promises.
There’s no denying the tiny thrill that shivers down my spine at the realization that he doesn’t carry a second helmet with him. That’s proof that he doesn’t often bring anyone with him on his bike. From now on, I intend to be the only woman he even considers letting snuggle up behind him as he rides.
After we’re situated on the bike and it rumbles to life, Joe pulls my arms around his waist and turns back to say, “You can hold on to me as tight as you like.”
I squeal and grip ahold of his middle as we take off down my grandfather’s driveway. After the gate opens, Joe carefully maneuvers us through the mob of aggressive paparazzi.
Once we’re clear of them, he takes off. When I glance back, I’m surprised to find that none of the pests are following us.
Suddenly enjoying more freedom and happiness than I ever remember feeling, I lift my arms up, tip my head back, and savor riding into the night with my dreamy Georgia guy.
EPILOGUE - ALEXANDRA
I’ve packed and repacked my Louis Vuitton suitcase several times. Although my personal stylist sent over a plethora of clothing items that she called ‘superyacht chic,’ I can’t seem to decide on the perfect options to bring on our trip to Hawaii with Joe’s family.
Joe is in a relaxed position on the enormous bed with his hands folded under his head on a stack of pillows as he watches me fret.
“What about this?” I ask, holding up a navy-blue and white romper.
“It looks great,” he says for the umpteenth time. At my frustrated scowl, he adds, “You’re going to look fantastic no matter what you wear, and my family is going to love you.”
He has zeroed in on my true worry with that last bit. Flopping down beside him on the bed, I practically wail, “What if they hate me?”
“How could they possibly hate you?” he asks, sounding utterly sincere.
Giving him an exasperated look, I say, “Oh, I don’t know… Maybe because my grandfather fired your dad, or because I had you thrown in jail.”
