Page 37 of Beautiful Desire
“Does your dad know that?”
I breathe out a chuckle. “I mean, I’ve told him, but he doesn’t care; tells me I just need to get it done. He’s been like that my whole life. In high school, if I came home with anything less than an A, he’d bitch about it.”
Tucking her foot under her thigh, Georgia faces me, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Jesus Christ, he’s such a fucking prick,” she spits out, and I can’t help the snort that flies out of me at hearing her say that. Something about the way Georgia speaksher mind has me so intensely drawn to her. “Why do you care so much about what he thinks?”
“Uh, maybe because he’s the only thing standing in the way of what I’ve been working toward my whole life?”
“Which is what? To work for him again?”
“No, to workwithhim,” I correct. “Part of that company is supposed to be mine.”
“But why would you want it?” she asks, forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Why would you want to be in business with somebody you know was impossible to please? That sounds like a miserable life to me.”
I swallow down the bitter taste sitting on the back of my tongue. She’s asking a valid question, but it doesn’t make me any less irritated. “Because this is something I’ve been promised my entire life,” I grumble. “It’s the only goal I’ve ever had in mind, and I’ve worked too damn hard to walk away. And besides, me wanting to make my dad proud isn’t weird, Georgia. It’s actually very normal to seek your parents’ approval.”
“But you’re about to graduate with an MBA, Fletcher, and that’s something to be proud of. Completing the program with less than a 4.0 doesn’t mean you’re set for failure, in the same way graduating with honors doesn’t guarantee success.” Her eyes soften as they take me in. “Your dad can want the very best for you while still being proud of all that you’ve already accomplished.”
My throat’s tight, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say back to that. Other than when we went rollerblading together, Georgia and I haven’t talked about anything of substance since I moved in with her—or, really, ever. I’m used to her being snarky and bitchy when she talks to me, but what she just said was anything but, and maybe that means things between us are shifting.
The part of me who’s already planning how to get Georgia back in my bed is thrilled by that idea, but the part of me that hates talking to anybody about my relationship with my father isn’t sure if that’s such a good thing. Sure, most days, I can’t stand my dad, and I know he doesn’t treat me the way a father should treat his son, but hearing that somebody else sees it too feels like too much. Which is probably why I change the subject.
“Let me guess, you were the straight-A type?” I drawl, grabbing my beer bottle off the table and taking a swig.
Georgia snorts. “No, the fuck, I wasn’t.”
My eyes widen. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, believe it,” she quips. “It was a struggle to get through that program, and I was lucky they didn’t require a 3.5 minimum, like a lot of other schools do. Ibarelymade a 3.0 GPA.”
“Damn, I’m shocked. Perfect Georgia isn’t so perfect after all,” I tease, a smirk tugging on the corner of my mouth.
“Oh, don’t get it twisted, baby boy.” She flashes me a toothy grin, and between that and the “baby boy,” my stomach does a whole cartwheel. “I’m still perfect; my life was just a dumpster fire back then.”
Cocking a brow, my curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, “How so?”
Georgia watches me over the top of her glass as she takes a sip. “I don’t care what we did earlier, I’m not discussingthatwith you.” Her gaze narrows on me, but her tone is light, and I don’t miss the way she bites back a smirk.
From the outside looking in, Georgia has always appeared so put together and almost untouchable. I suppose that could have something to do with her being the oldest of all the siblings, but I also don’t think I’ve ever heard her talk about struggling. I know she moved back in with her dad when she was in her early twenties, but the reason why has always been a mystery, andgiven how much of a stuck-up bitch she was to me when I was growing up, I’ve always wanted to know. But the reason for my curiosity now has nothing to do with being an asshole teenager.
“Why not? You know all about the bullshit with my dad,” I push. “Seems only fair I know something personal about you too.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about all that.” The smirk she was trying to hide climbs up her face. “Rain check?” Her tone is playful, but something about the way she’s looking at me makes me think one day I’ll be able to get her to open up, and as I take another pull from my beer, I realize how badly I want that.
Maybe even more than I want her back in my bed.
18
Georgia
“Here you go, ladies.” Sam, our server, sets a heaping plate of nachos on the table before looking each one of us over. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
“Can we get another round of margs, please?” Grace asks sweetly.
“Of course.” She nods. “I’ll be right back with those.”
“My god, these lookdelicious,” Gemma murmurs as she grabs a fully loaded chip from the pile. Shoving it in her mouth, she groans while chewing. “Yup, this is exactly what I needed tonight—my girls, frozen margaritas, and these freaking nachos.So good.”
It’s a little after eight on a Saturday night, and me and my sisters are two drinks in at the High Tide Tavern, one of the only bars in our small town. Country music plays from the jukebox in the corner, and a few people are even dancing in the middle of the room, but overall, it’s not too crowded. Although, that’ll change the later it gets.
