Page 25 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.” I don’t think it sounds bad, I think it sounds perfect. Send your teenagers off, have them come back as adults. But of course, I don’t have kids, I wouldn’t know what that’s like.
“It’s only 20 minutes away from my house in Virginia, so I can still go to their sports games and stuff. Caroline plays softball, second base. And Elodie plays volleyball, she’s a setter. They're both quirky, and fun. Both good kids. Well, I guess they’re more like young women now than kids. Their semester ends in six weeks, so that’s how long I’m here for.”
“Got it. Do you like living there, in the D.C. area?”
“Nope.” She pauses, “It was just a means to an end and I got stuck.” I feel a bit guilty about that last part. I’m trying to keep the conversation light, I just want to keep enjoying this night with her. It hits me that I really am enjoying being with her. Nothing fancy or extravagant, just her company, some sweats, in a small bar. It’s fucking perfect.
“Enough about me, spill the beans.” She motions with her hand around the room, “Who are the regulars and how do I get them to start dancing?” And I’m laughing again.
“The trick is to put something good on the jukebox, then let it do the work for you.”
“Too easy. Point me in the direction, please?” She hops off her stool and I put my hands on her shoulders and redirect her body until it’s pointing to the far right corner. With a gentle tap on her perky bum, I tell her “Go get em’ tiger.” She turns around with pinkened cheeks and gives a quick smile before setting off towards the jukebox.
My phone starts vibrating so I pull it out of my pocket and see that it’s Matt. I hover over the accept button for a moment before declining the call.Not tonight, man. I’m going to do something for me tonight, for the first time in a really long time.
She’s been at the jukebox for five minutes and counting, and I’ve been staring at her just as long.
“Ahem.” Rick clears his throat, stealing my attention. I turn to face him as he sets down two identical plates. “Today’s special is a prime rib sandwich, aus jus and horseradish aioli on the side, with the house specialty, garlic parm fries.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, getting ready to return my attention back to Britain.
“So what’s her deal?” He motions with his chin to where Britain’s standing. I’m not surprised he’s curious. I don’t bring dates here. When I do date, it’s typically somewhere in town, which is where the women I see normally live. It makes it more convenient for them and also prevents me from having to bring anyone back to my own place, which I like. The only exception to all of that is Tori, who wormed her way into my house on two occasions.
“She’s my new tenant, that’s all,” I say, hoping he’ll accept that and leave us alone.
“So chances are good I’ll see her again? She single?” Rick asks, and my blood starts boiling.
I ground out my reply, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”Fuck, no. I don’t want Rick asking her that, or talking to her. He’s a hell of a lot closer in age to her than I am. His arms are covered in full sleeves of tattoos, he’s got messy and long, light brown hair that he sometimes wears up in a bun. He’s attractive, if you’re into those sorts of things.
Luckily, Rick takes a hint, and says, “Nah man, just making conversation.” He’s wearing a smirk on his face.Damnit.
“You baited me.”
“Maybe,” he says, shit-eating grin on full display.
We’re interrupted by Britain, “WOW. This looks amazing.” Her eyes are wide, never leaving the plate as she slides back on to her stool, unrolling the napkin and utensils in front of her.
“Thank you.” She looks up at Rick and gives him a smile. And I feel it right then, I’m jealous. I only want her smiling at me, for me.Becauseof me.
Just as she takes her first bite, the jukebox clicks on sending “Neon Moon” by Brooks & Dunn wafting through the restaurant. She lets out a satisfied moan, clearly enjoying her food, and I get hard instantly, like I’m 13 years old.
Rick’s still standing in front of us, on his side of the bar, thoroughly enjoying Britain who’s thoroughly enjoying her food.
“Nice song pick,” Rick says to her.
She holds her hand over her mouth to finish chewing on her bite. Then says, “Thanks, this is just the warm up, though,” she says with a wink.Don’t wink at him.
She continues on, “I was told Imightbe able to incite people to dance, if I set the mood correctly.”
“You like to dance?” Rick asks.
“Oh god, no. I was actually born with two left feet.” Her voice is completely serious and Rick raises his eyebrows, questioning. “Okay, not really, but um, my brain and my feet aren’t synced up. I’m not a dancer, I’m a people watcher.”
“Voyeuristic, huh?” Ricks asks with that damn smirk again. Britain’s cheeks go pink. I clear my throat, trying my best to conveygo the fuck awayin Rick’s direction. He lets out a chuckle and says to the both of us, “Enjoy your meal.” He knocks his knuckles against the bar top, then flashes us a smile in farewell.Fucker.
I realize I should probably eat something instead of staring and we spend the next couple of minutes eating in companionable silence. The sandwich is good, but I’m not even hungry, at least not for food. I throw my napkin on the bar top, exchanging my utensils for my beer. I hear Britain before I turn to look at her. She’s gently humming along with the sounds of some Clint Black song. She’s slowed down on eating and is just picking at a couple of fries, so I re-engage her.
“Do you listen to a lot of country music?”
