Page 19 of You Wish
Not to mention, it was a great way to throw her off guard and watch those walls of hers drop. If only for a few minutes, so he could see the truth in her eyes when he asked her why, after he’d confessed his feelings, she had ghosted him.
He planned on getting there at ten, but he was ready at nine and, rather than making dents from pacing his hardwood floor, he’d hopped in the car and headed to her place.
He was shocked that they only lived fifteen minutes apart. Sure, he lived in the gated community with a private golf course and she was in an older, more historic part of town, but somehow they’d ended up on the same side of Austin.
As he pulled up to the curb, gentle snowflakes clung to his windshield, but not enough to block the view. He couldn’t help but smile at the cute 1940s bungalow with a manicured flowergarden, bright blue shutters, and a Christmas wreath on the door. Very Georgia. Well, the Georgia he knew from years past. Not the uptight boardroom barracuda who’d shown up at the track the other week.
Jake shut off the engine, hopped out of his car and, holding the lapels of his coat together to block the frigid wind, made the slow march up to the door. He smoothed his hair and gave a quick breath check, then knocked.
A few seconds turned into thirty and then a minute. He was about to knock again when the door swung open and,Christ almighty, he hadn’t expectedthisGeorgia. Silky robe, fresh face, sleep rumpled hair. Did he mention the bare feet?
He loved a sexy pair of bare feet—and Georgia had beautiful ones.
“Can I help you?” she chimed, and he knew the minute she figured out who her visitor was because her lips folded into a thin line and her eyes narrowed into two pissed-off slits. “What are you doing here?”
“Figured that we’d carpool. Save the planet and all.”
“My car is electric.”
“Good thing I came then. No charge stations in Pine Village.” His eyes traveled all the way south. “Nice toes. Passion Pink?”
She curled her them under so that they were only partially showing. “Perv.”
“I like to call it being a connoisseur.”
“I remember.”
He rested a shoulder against the doorjamb. “What else do you remember?”
“Enough that I should slam the door in your face.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You’re mine for the whole week. That was a non-negotiable.”
“Correction: I am your assistant for the whole week. And that week startsatyour grandparents’.”
“Again. Electric car.”
He could tell she wanted to stomp a foot. “I’ll rent a gas-powered one.”
Knowing his prim-and-proper ex hated to be late for anything, let alone stand someone up, he said, “My grandparents expect us for lunch.”
Heat bloomed across her face, and her composure took a coffee break. “Why did you tell them that?”
“Because I want to spend as much time with them as I can.” He left out the part where, on some twisted level, he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.
Sure, it was asking for trouble, but trouble had always been his favorite flavor.
She narrowed her eyes, weighing his words like a dodgy sales pitch. “Does that line work for you?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. I’m not the one blushing.”
She gave him side eye that said she wasn’t buying a single syllable. “It’s called anger. Now, as you can see, I’m not ready.”
He pushed off the wall. “I can wait.”
