They went walking into the restaurant and found his favorite waitress on staff, Chloe. Her platinum-blonde hair bobbed as she hurried over, tutting as she took in Georgia’s appearance. Georgia was weaving a little on her feet from sheer exhaustion, and Moose had to stop himself from pulling her to his side to physically hold her upright. He absolutely shouldn’t touch Georgia, but he absolutely, positively shouldn’t touch her in public.

He couldn’t hurt Tennessee like that. It wasn’t fair to her.

“Oh darlin’, just look at you!” Chloe exclaimed, reaching out and brushing at a streak of soot across Georgia’s shirt. “I heard you got trapped up in the fire in the foothills, and don’t you just look like it. I’ll go get some coffee and creamer for you. Pick a table and I’ll be right over.” She hurried towards the coffee pot as Georgia drunkenly turned towards the booths, doing her best to act dignified. As if she had not quite literally been dragged through the dirt that morning and almost been burned to death the night before.

Moose gave in and took Georgia’s elbow in his hand, supporting her as he guided them to a booth. It was just an elbow. No one would look at them funny for him touching her elbow.

Well, they would if they could feel the sparks shooting up his arm, like touching an electric fence that’d been turned on high. It was a damn good thing people couldn’t read minds. Not even the gossip kings and queens of Sawyer could, for which he was eternally grateful.

Georgia sank into the booth across from him, her head drooping as she tried to prop her chin on a palm. Her blinks were growing looongeeer byyy theeee mooomeeent…

Her head snapped up and she blearily attempted to focus her eyes on his.

Moose had visions of her face-planting into a plate full of waffles. Normally, he’d just take her home to let her sleep this off, but he was half-afraid that part of her exhaustion was coming from low blood sugar because of not eating for so long.

She wasn’t diabetic – at least that he knew of – but anyone who’d gone through the stressors that she had while also eating practically nothing for 24 hours could crash and burn. He had to get food into her, even if he had to spoon-feed her to do it.

Huh. On second thought, maybe he ought to get the food to go in that case. He could get away with taking Georgia by the elbow to guide her into a booth; he couldn’t get away with spoon-feeding her like a toddler.

Chloe came up with the mugs and creamer and a pot of coffee. She poured a cup for each of them, sliding the creamer towards Georgia, and then said, “Y’all know what you want?”

Moose instinctively looked at Georgia – women always ordered first, of course – but her head was bobbing and jerking as she valiantly tried to stay awake…and not land face first in her coffee. If Moose was going to wait on her to make a decision, they’d be there a very long time.

“Two veggie omelettes with cheese and ham added,” he said, not even bothering to open up the menus stacked at the end of the booth. “Biscuits for each; extra jam for me.”

Chloe winked at him. “You got it. I’ll tell Betty to move y’all to the front of the line. I’m afraid Georgia won’t make it if we wait too long to feed her.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

They both turned to Georgia as she made incoherent noises, waving her hands in the air dismissively. He knew exactly what she was trying to say, even if her mouth didn’t – she was fine. No worries at all. Just because she’d seemingly forgotten how the English language worked, she was fine.

Chloe took off for the kitchen while Moose just shook his head at Georgia, the laughter bubbling up inside of him. Her drive, her backbone, her willingness to put in hard work…it’s how she became the youngest branch manager in Goldfork Credit Union history, and a female to boot. All of that was on display now, as she attempted to give off the illusion that she was in perfect working order.

He pushed her coffee cup towards her, encouraging her to drink it, and then realized with a frown that she hadn’t put any creamer into it yet, and that just wasn’t gonna work. She didn’t touch black coffee with a ten-foot pole. As she put it, she liked a little coffee in her creamer.

He pulled the coffee mug back to him, added three little cups of french vanilla creamer, stirred, and then pushed it back across the table to her.

Georgia gave him a dazzling smile of gratitude, the wide swath of dirt across her forehead giving her a particularly pirate-y look, and promptly began downing the coffee. When she was close to the bottom, Moose waved Chloe over for a refill, then creamered it up for her again. She sipped at the second cup a little slower.

“Feeling any better?” he asked Georgia as Chloe brought by the biscuits with jam. He took over spreading the homemade jam and butter across Georgia’s biscuit – even a butter knife in her hands probably wasn’t a good idea at this point – and then pushed the readied biscuit over to her.

“Yeah,” Georgia slurred unconvincingly, then hungrily dug into the biscuit. Moose eyed her cautiously. She in no way seemed better, although he supposed that she was at least speaking English now. Low bar, for sure, but she was clearing it.

He popped a bite of his own biscuit into his mouth and closed his eyes as he chewed ecstatically. He’d been so focused on making sure Georgia was okay, he’d been ignoring his own stomach growls, but now that food was arriving, his stomach was busy reminding him that he could eat a horse, with a side of cow, at this point.

It also didn’t hurt that Betty made the best biscuits in the area. The woman was a flat-out genius in the kitchen. There was a reason no one had tried to open a competing diner in Sawyer; Betty’s fans were legion. If only she would stay open for dinner, Betty’s Diner would be perfect.

She’d always said that she wanted her evenings off, though, so she wasn’t gonna do it. Despite his selfish desire for her to be open past two each day, Moose had to respect that kind of surety and backbone about her business decisions competing with her private life. Wanting to strike a good balance between work and personal life wasn’t something he’d seen modeled much in his own life.

“Here we go,” Chloe said, sliding their oversized plates in front of them and then standing back with an appraising eye. “Ketchup? Extra butter?”

They both shook their heads, so with another top off of their coffee, Chloe was off to the races again. How she kept her energy level so high all the time was beyond Moose.

“So I kept meaning to ask,” Georgia said after swallowing a particularly large and gooey bite of omelette, “how did the fundraiser go? Did you guys make some decent money? And who won the basketball game?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask that,” Moose said mock-seriously, shaking his head in disappointment at her. He was honestly just thrilled that she was talking, though. In complete sentences. With only a minimal amount of slurring. “The firefighters, of course. Although your dad put up quite the fight. He made two whole baskets during the game!”

Georgia laughed at that. “I honestly would’ve bet that he wouldn’t have even played,” she said admiringly. “Go, Dad.”

“How is it that you don’t know how the game went?” Moose asked, digging into his omelette, veggies and cheese and ham oozing out. Hmmm…maybe he’d just marry Betty instead. Sure, she was pushing 70 and was as round as she was tall, but damn, could the woman cook. “You were there that night,” he reminded her.

He’d met up with Tennessee at the fundraiser and they’d wandered around for a bit together until they’d spotted Levi and Georgia talking. His heart had…twisted or flipped or squeezed or something funny it probably wasn’t supposed to be doing, when he saw them together.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, of course. He had no reason to feel that way.

None whatsoever.

“Uhh…Tenny and I started chatting, and then we wandered outside, and then ended up going home from there.” Suddenly, she was studiously studying the table to her right.

A table that was empty, and not at all interesting.

Interesting…

“I’d wondered what happened. Tennessee just disappeared.”

He was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t even noticed she’d disappeared until Jaxson had asked where she’d gone.

Also not something he was going to admit out loud.

When Georgia didn’t say anything else, Moose prompted her. “What’d you two talk about?”

“Oh, this and that.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Cousinly sorts of things.”

She was still staring at the table to her right.

“Hmmm…” he said noncommittally, suddenly wishing he could’ve been a fly on the wall when they were discussing cousinly things, whatever the hell that meant.

But it was clear that Georgia wasn’t going to fess up to anything else, so he moved back to the question she’d asked. “The spaghetti feed went really well overall, other than a couple of the older farmers complaining that we’d dare to feed them ‘Italian food’ instead of doing a baked potato buffet.”

This caught her attention and whatever she’d been studying so intently at the empty table next to them was suddenly not interesting anymore. Her eyes jerked to his. “Are you being serious right now?” she breathed, and then started laughing. “Oh, Sawyer…there are days…”

“I know, right? I had to bite my tongue pretty hard over that one. But other than our daring choices of spaghetti and garlic bread, the event went well overall. A success for Jaxson out of the gate, and that’s something that he needs. Despite what happened down at the bakery, what with saving Gage and Sugar from that fire and all, some of the older farmers still look at him a little askance. I don’t know if they’ll ever truly forgive him from moving in from the giant metropolis of Boise.”

Georgia laughed pretty hard at that one, and then shrugged. “Tell him to join the party. I was born and raised here, but I’m also one of those dastardly females, so there are farmers who come in who refuse to talk to me about operating loans. Not only is Tripp good at his job, he’s also a male, so I dump these guys off onto his lap when it happens. It used to piss me off, but now…” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “They’re in their 70s and 80s, and still clinging to their farms. They’re not going to change their minds about women in the workplace at this late date.”

Her smile was breezy and cheerful, but her eyes…they were dark and unhappy. She wasn’t as good of an actress as she believed she was. Moose wondered if anyone had ever told her that.

“I’m glad Tripp is good at his job, but I’m sorry you have to use him like that.” Even as he said it, he thought back through the Garrett Tractor & Implement customers who came into the dealership every year. He could list off who he thought was giving Georgia a hard time, and probably be at least 90% accurate. They were plenty nice to him, being the owner’s son and all, but these were the kinds of men who treated the shop guys poorly; who looked down at Levi as being inferior because of who his father was.

For being overall-wearing, tobacco-chewing, dirt-stained crusty old farmers, they sure could be judgmental as hell. It was one of the things that he hated about the dealership.

Georgia shrugged again. “I realized a long time ago that if I’m gonna let that sort of thing get under my skin, I’d be crazy within the month. I just keep my head down and work hard and let them think whatever they want to think. The head of Goldfork Credit Union over in Franklin – he likes me and he knows that a lot of the complaints I get stem from my gender. I’m lucky to have a decent boss.”

And with that, she let out a jaw-cracking yawn, looking across the booth at him with a bleary-eyed gaze. The food and coffee had given her a little bit of a pick-me-up, but there was nothing she needed now more than sleep.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Moose said, sliding out of the booth and waving Chloe down. He paid for breakfast, swallowing hard at the unexpected hit to his budget, and then guided a swaying Georgia out the front door.

Just by her elbow. Like a proper gentleman would.

“I feel like I hit a brick wall,” she mumbled. “I was fine, and then…” She waved her hand in the air. “Now I’s tired.”

Moose let loose with a belly laugh at that. Georgia wasn’t exactly an English schoolmarm, but her grasp of the English language tended to be pretty good overall. He was willing to bet next month’s paycheck that she’d never said the word “I’s” before.

He helped her into the passenger seat and then hurried over to the driver’s side. He’d told her that he’d drive her out to her car after they ate breakfast, but looking at her doing the jelly-necked bob, he didn’t trust her to drive at this point. All she’d need to do is crash her car while trying to drive it home. That’d just make this week complete.

“What’s your apartment number?” he asked, heading towards the Golden Ridge Condos. He knew she lived in there somewhere, but couldn’t remember which condo exactly.

“Eleven,” she mumbled, curling up against the passenger side door. He could only hope that she actually heard and understood the question and was telling him her condo number, and not telling him how many times she’d read Harry Potter in high school. She always had her nose buried in one of those books, it seemed.

Or she could be telling him how many times she got into a fight with her parents in the 10th grade. Or how many times it took her to learn how to spell Mississippi. Or how many times she’d made love to Levi.

His smile instantly dropped from his face and he felt a little sick. Not at the idea of Georgia and Levi having sex – although undoubtedly the number was much higher than eleven, and no, that thought didn’t exactly bring him joy – but because Levi was still in love with her.

Levi wouldn’t cop to it; he might not even truly believe it. But if Levi knew how much Moose enjoyed being with Georgia; how much he loved her…

Moose shoved the thought away with all his might. He didn’t love Georgia. He couldn’t. For the 98,281st time, he was marrying Tennessee. He had no choice in the matter. Georgia wasn’t an option now, or later, or ever.

End of story.

He pulled up in front of her condo and then riffled through her backpack sitting in the bed of the truck, finally pulling her keys out triumphantly. He’d been taught to never go through a woman’s things without her permission, but since Georgia was currently snoring up a storm, he figured he could be forgiven this one time. He zipped the backpack closed and slung it onto his back.

He opened up the passenger side door carefully, catching Georgia’s limp body as she began to fall out, and slid her into his arms. She was short and petite, but that shouldn’t fool a person; she was all muscle. She weighed more than she looked like she should, but after hefting tractor tires and parts around for years…hell, she was barely bigger than a mite.

He juggled the keys and her, finally getting the front door open and her inside. She snored a little and then nestled closer to him, completely oblivious to the world around her…

And completely oblivious to what she was doing to him.

He began hurrying through the house, pushing doors open with the toe of his boot as he went, wanting to put her down before he made a complete jackass out of himself. Despite the fact that she was dirtier than a hobo on a three-week bender, despite the fact that she was out for the count, it was still Georgia.

And holding her in his arms like this was the purest, most amazing form of torture he’d ever lived through.

Finally, after discovering her office, her library, and a guest bedroom, he found her room – large and cheerful, a four-poster bed sat in the middle with a small overstuffed chair in the corner by the window. A stack of books sat on the small end table next to the chair, and more were piled on both nightstands on either side of the king bed. His eyes skittered over the spines, unconsciously searching for Harry Potter titles, and then he stopped himself. He’d already broken into Georgia’s apartment after riffling through her backpack without permission. He was not going to go pawing through her books next out of curiosity.

He gently laid her down on top of what appeared to be a handmade quilt and then studied her soot- and ash-covered body. He could take her clothes off – it’d have to be more comfortable than sleeping in those dirt-encrusted things – but he instinctively knew that Georgia would rather not sleep well than have him strip her naked.

Not to mention that he really wasn’t sure if his self-control could take it.

So he settled on removing her beat-up tennis shoes and then pulling a lap blanket from the end of the bed and draping it over her.

Quietly backing out of the room, he dropped her keys and backpack next to the entryway stand and headed out the front door.

It was time to go home, take a shower, and then he was off to work. Unlike Georgia, he didn’t get to take a day off, and anyway, he didn’t need one. He’d slept better last night with her in his arms than he had—

He stopped himself right there. Their little break from the world, where the rules didn’t matter and he could look at her with the longing that he felt…it was gone. Done. Behind him, disappearing in the rearview mirror. They’d rejoined society, and he needed to come to grips with that.