Chapter One
Justin didn’t feel ten years older. Then again, there were days when, after wrangling more than one hundred students, he felt ninety. But even that didn’t compare to how he felt as he stared at the tiny four-by-six postcard and debated his decision…whether to attend his class reunion in Atlanta.
Justin sighed. The old desk chair squawked as he leaned back, eyeing the invitation. Answering it had been the single most thought on his mind this past week—that, and the memories of the past he’d been fighting to forget.
He’d found sanctuary, if only for a few moments, hidden in the tiny office in the boys’ locker room. He was closing in on the end of his third year in the once-booming mining town of End of the Line, Montana, where he taught history and coached the End of the Line Eagles football team.
He propped the invitation against his Eagle’s coffee mug—a gift from the team on his birthday. He’d meant to answer the R.S.V.P over the past couple of months, but had conveniently found a number of reasons to procrastinate. A phone call from his mom last night had pushed him a little closer to making a decision, one way or another.
“You get that gray mare settled down?” his mom asked. She was a master at addressing major issues by sliding them through the backdoor of a conversation.
“We did,” Justin answered. He sat on the porch swing on his small acreage looking at the late spring sunset. It was a view he would never tire of, but one that he longed to share with someone. And not just anyone—someone by the name of Georgia. He brushed away the thought as he’d done a million times that day. “Michael Greyfeather is an amazing man. He seems to have an instinct when it comes to animals. We’re already looking for a forever home for her.”
“That’s wonderful.” There was a pause. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we all possessed such a skill when it came to each other?”
Justin chuckled, knowing the reference was pointed to the tense relationship between him and his twin brother, Jake. “I suppose it’d work if you’re dealing with an ass.”
His mom issued a soft but stern warning. “Justin.”
He headed off the question he knew was coming next. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t spoken to him.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Mom, please. There are few times you call me on a Thursday night. Sundays are your day.”
“Fine. I had a call from Jake earlier today and he might have asked whether I’d heard from you.”
“Yeah? Why doesn’t he just call me?” Justin took a sip of his Jack Daniels. It wasn’t something he often chose at the end of the day, but tonight he needed it. Too many nights had been tormented by images of a dark-haired, green-eyed woman he’d thought was out of his system. Damn his photographic memory.
“You know, I can tell you that life’s too short.”
“Yes, Mom, you can and I’d agree. Too short to dwell on the past. Am I right?” Justin frowned as the whiskey slid down his throat in a slow burn.
“On what you have no power to do anything about, certainly.” His mother rivaled Mr. Spock in the logic department. “But this thing between you and your brother…”
“Thing?” Justin straightened, leaning forward as though braced for a fight. “He went behind my back—” Justin paused, forcing himself to bottle his anger. “The point is, maybe things didn’t work out between me and Georgia, but Jake—Jake’s never mentioned a thing about what he did, much less apologized.” He understood how this division between her sons hurt his mom. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to get into this.”
“I know, honey.” There was a soft sigh from the other end of the phone. “I don’t think it was done as maliciously as you’ve painted it.”
Justin pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging the dull ache that had started. “Jake rarely does anything, Mom, that doesn’t somehow benefit Jake.”
“In that regard, he’s more like your father just before he died. But understand, Justin, your Dad wasn’t always that way. I think the company rooted itself inside your dad and it finally took him.”
Justin bit his lip. Georgia had been the one to break things off with him, even before he’d found out what Jake had done.
“I just don’t want the same thing to happen to your brother. Faith is a sweet girl. But you, Justin, have always been able to get your brother to balance his perspective.”
“At what cost, Mom?” he asked.
“I like to think that things worked out for you, honey. You’re working and living in exactly the place you’d always wanted to be. You’re content—”
“That’s debatable,” Justin interjected.
“Surely, you’ve dated some nice girls since you’ve been in End of the Line?”
His doorbell rang, saving him from having to launch into a handful of dates, most of which he botched by mentally comparing them to Georgia. “Mom, my dinner is here. I’ll call you later in the week.”
“Okay, honey, love you. Go talk to your brother.”
He hung up. This damn invitation had blown a hole in his sequestered little life. When he was seated on his porch swing, coffee in hand, catching a brilliant sunset, he’d convinced himself he didn’t need any more than this. Trouble was, he’d convinced his brain, not so much his heart.
***
Justin glanced once more at the black-and-white photo of his alma mater. Memories of a rainy afternoon—of him and Georgia—on an old dirt road flickered in his brain. He shook his head. Water under the bridge. He forced his thoughts to the present as he heard the locker room door open and looked up to see his star quarterback over the past three years. “Hey, Eric. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Coach. I just stopped by to get this signed.” He handed him a pink slip of paper. “My folks want to leave tomorrow after lunch. Dad wants to get an early start on some freakin’ family road trip.” The teen, now a junior and with a promising future in football, leaned against the doorframe.
The paper fluttered in the breeze left in the wake of the small oscillating fan Justin had brought in and put on the file cabinet to keep the air moving in the locker room.
The boy sighed. “Don’t you think that Canada in the summer pretty much looks like Montana?” Eric asked despairingly. “I mean, why now? We’ve never taken one. It’s the summer before my senior year. I have to take off work, miss doing stuff with my friends—who, by the way, are heading down to Texas.”
Justin chuckled softly under his breath as he added his name to the list getting the boy out of tomorrow’s study hall. He handed it back, sympathizing with the boy’s frustration—parents were impossible to understand. Even so, he felt compelled to offer a bit of ‘teacher-like’ wisdom. “Hey, your senior year goes pretty fast. Then you’ll be heading off to college on a scholarship, no doubt.”
Eric shrugged, though his expression remained unenthusiastic. “I’m keeping my grades up, so yeah, I guess.”
Justin continued. “Well, then, you’ll be starting your life at college, meeting new people, maybe a girl—”
Eric snorted. “I’ll have to fight them off.”
“Yeah, then the next thing you know, you’re married, starting a family…”
“Whoa, Coach, slow your roll. I haven’t even met ‘the girl’ yet.” He crooked his fingers for emphasis.
“My point,” Justin said, “is that this road trip that seems lame right now might look pretty good in the rearview mirror. You get what I’m saying?”
The teen—his hair grown longer in the off season, along with the scruffy beard—gazed at Justin for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, I’ve got my laptop and noise-cancelling headphones. I can watch movies, right?”
As a teacher, he could only advise so much. “Right.” Justin leaned forward. He dropped his pen on the desk and the invitation fluttered to the teen’s feet.
Eric picked it up and casually glanced at it. “So, your class reunion, huh?” he asked, raising a brow as he handed Justin the card. “You going?”
Uncomfortable to be placed on the spot, Justin took back the card and tossed it on the desk. “Not sure. The timing isn’t very good for me.”
The boy’s mouth turned up in a challenging smile. “What was that you were saying about rearview mirrors?”
Damn. He had been listening. Justin glanced at the card, picked it up, and tapped it against the desk. It’d been a long time since he’d set foot in Atlanta…and he had his reasons. “Go on, Eric. Enjoy this time with your family. Life’s too short.” His mother’s words popped out before he even realized it.
“Yep, like you always tell us, Coach—family is everything.” He turned to leave. “Have a good summer. See you at football camp.”
“Family is everything,” Justin muttered. His mom was right. This had gone on long enough. While he couldn’t control all that had happened, he could straighten things out with Jake. Maybe in doing so, he’d be able to put the past to rest in his heart and his brain.
***
“Sorry I’m late. My pre-marriage appointment with a young couple from church went longer than I’d expected.” Leslie Cook—now Reverend Leslie Cook of the First Church of Christ in End of the Line, Montana—slid into the booth across from Justin. Considering they lived in such a small town, the two old friends barely saw one another, and lately it had become increasingly difficult even to schedule a dinner together.
“Did you warn them off about the pitfalls of romance?” Justin offered a slanted grin as he glanced over the menu at Betty’s diner.
His friend gave him a smile. “Cynicism doesn’t look good on you, Justin.” She picked up one of the menus Betty had left.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I haven’t seen you two out on a date together since you moved here.” Betty smiled at one and then the other as she set their wrapped utensils and water on the table. “Glad to see you managed to get this guy out on a real date.” Betty chuckled under her breath.
Justin and Leslie looked at her. “It’s not a date,” they said in unison.
The owner and part-time waitress of the popular eating spot in the little town glanced at each of them and smiled. “Of course, you’re not.” She pulled out a small tablet and licked the tip of the pencil. “Ok, kids”—because anyone younger than her was considered a kid—“what’ll it be? We’ve got a tuna melt special tonight that comes with my Jerry’s seasoned fries, and we have our Thursday night Betty burger topped with pulled pork, coleslaw, and my special Cajun sauce. And you’re going to want to save room for dessert because Rebecca just baked up some delicious Dutch apple crumb pies that are to die for.”
Justin’s stomach growled plaintively. He’d skipped lunch in lieu of an oatmeal cookie he’d found in the teacher’s lounge. “What say you, Reverend? My treat,” Justin said with a grin.
Betty smiled, but kept her eyes to the notebook.
“It’s not a date, Betty,” Justin reiterated.
Betty shrugged, then looked at Leslie and grinned. “If I were you I’d order the twelve-ounce steak.”
Leslie smiled. “Tuna melt for me, with Jerry’s fries. I haven’t had those in a long while. Oh, and may I have a house salad, with ranch dressing on the side?”
“You bet.” Betty scribbled a few notes and looked at Justin. “How about you, Mr. Reed?”
He closed the menu and handed it to Betty. “A Betty burger. May I get extra Cajun sauce on the side?”
“Well, that convinces me you aren’t on a real date.” She grinned. “Coming right up.”
After she left, Leslie folded her hands on the table and leaned forward with an expectant look. “Have you made a decision about that reunion?”
She, too, had been haranguing him about attending, but like his Mom, more for resolving his family issues than anything. She had suggested–more than once—that it was best to get things out in the open and to forgive and forget.
Justin glanced up as Betty brought over two salads, glad to stave off answering Leslie’s question.
“It’s on the house. You looked a bit pale.” She scooted the salad toward Justin. “Your specials are coming up.” She started to leave and turned on her heel. “I’m sorry, but Reverend, I keep meaning to ask you how many loaves of bread you’ll need for the Easter church supper? Now that I have the bakery next door, we’d love to help you any way we can.”
Leslie grabbed Betty’s hand and squeezed it. “Betty, you are one of the reasons I love this town. You’re an angel to offer, but are you sure you have time now with two businesses to run?”
Betty waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no problem. I’ve got a cracker jack team between Rebecca Greyfeather and her granddaughter Emilee, who has been helping after school in the kitchen. And then there’s Clay’s sister, Julie, who has an amazing head for business. I just get to come in and offer new recipes and brainstorm ideas for new products. I’m the one who is blessed with such a crew.” She nudged Leslie’s shoulder. “Why, Julie is even working on a website for the bakery to see if we can drum up some online business.” She gave Leslie a wink. “But helping you out with feeding the folks in this community and at Miss Ellie’s shelter in Billings is my top priority. Besides, we had so many in this town helping out after Jerry’s stroke that it’s our pleasure to give back any way we can.”
Justin smiled as he listened to Betty. It had been her kindness one fateful Saturday morning years ago that had been powerfully influential—in part—to Justin deciding to return years later to End of the Line. His Uncle Roy used to take him and his brother Jake fly fishing once a year at his cabin on the north Yellowstone River. As was tradition, they’d first stop at Betty’s for a large breakfast and then make a stop at the town’s one and only grocery store to get supplies before heading north. Justin’s love of the area—his love for the wide-open spaces, the mountains, being able to breathe—hadn’t changed, except that his appreciation had gotten stronger since his youthful days spent on the river, water swirling around his waders as he listened to his uncle’s stories. Not a lover of the outdoors, Jake usually opted for sitting on the front porch with his nose in a book, wondering when they were going to eat. Oddly, it’d been his good friend, Leslie—having moved there to take on her first position at First Church of Christ—who had plugged him into the teaching position when it opened in End of the Line.
Diving into their food after it arrived, Justin was relieved when the topic turned from him going to Atlanta to gathering volunteers to serve the Easter dinner. He should have known better. Since meeting her in college his freshman year, he’d never known of anyone like his good friend who could juggle so many projects at once and still be abreast of all the tiny details.
Leslie dabbed her mouth after eating half of her sandwich, sat back, and eyed him. “I’m stuffed. I’ll take the rest home.” She dabbed a napkin to her mouth and snagged his attention. “Now, about that reunion?”
Speaking of details. Justin took a sip of his water. “I’ve thought about it.”
“You’ve been doing that the past three months.”
Justin leveled her a look. “And I’m still thinking about it.” Justin picked off the tomatoes from his burger.
She smiled. “That sounds like you got another call from your mom.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. Justin sunk his teeth into the warm pretzel bun and nearly groaned. After the rigors of a busy day, there was nothing quite as calming as Betty’s comfort food. That might require a few extra sit-ups to be added to his daily routine of chores and exercising horses. He’d also stepped in and had been helping out at the Last Hope Ranch, replacing Clay Saunders who was enjoying being at home with his newborn twin girls born this past December.
He glanced at Leslie, not exactly excited to pick again at the old wound between him and Jake. “Okay, I’ve spoken to Faith about coming down. I haven’t been able to pencil myself in to my brother’s schedule as of yet.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just need to let it go. Forget all the crap that happened in the past. Stop letting it color our relationship.”
She tilted her head. “Crap? Sweetheart, you and I have had many a conversation about what happened at your dad’s funeral. You’ve carried this hurt around for a long time—too long. And it’s festering.”
That was an understatement. He’d thought he’d be able to accept walking away from Georgia and simply chalk it up to one of life’s difficult lessons. But he couldn’t do the same with his brother. “I’ve been waiting for him to make the first move—you know, apologize maybe for going behind my back the way he did.
She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “Justin, from what you’ve told me about your brother, he isn’t likely to make the first move. You’re going to have to be the better man and get the ball rolling.”
Deep down, he knew she was right. After he and Georgia had split, he’d tried to convince himself that what he’d found out, purely by accident—that his Dad, Jake, and Georgia had all been involved in a game of manipulation—no longer mattered. But he’d been lying to himself. He needed closure.
Leslie patted his hand, getting his attention. “You know, this is less about them and more about you, Justin. Clearing this up, confronting Jake, will do a lot toward you being able to move on and find someone new.”
Justin considered his friend’s wisdom. They’d met in college and had dated a few times, only to discover that they made better friends than lovers. She’d listened to him lament over the Georgia girl who’d gotten away, the one who’d broken his heart. The girl for whom he had been prepared to forego college and marry when there’d been a pregnancy concern; for whom he’d been prepared to settle down, stay in Atlanta, and get a job in his Dad’s advertising firm.
He sighed and swiped his hand wearily over his face. “You know, you’re right. I need to sit down and have this out with him.” He shrugged. “This has less to do with Georgia and more about getting back on an even keel with my brother. Like you said, it’s long overdue.”
Leslie studied him. “And really, what do you care? I mean, you’re clearly over Georgia Langley, right?
Justin met his friend’s gaze. “Absolutely.”
***
Georgia looked at the array of bills scattered across her father’s old desk. The wood was marred, and still reeked of smoke from days gone by when Langley’s had allowed smoking inside. She was grateful he wasn’t here to see how the urban cowboy bars were putting his beloved bar out of business. Lord knows, she’d tried her best to juggle the mounting bills, but with recent increases to property and business taxes, the upkeep of the tiny business—her father’s legacy to his only child—had been suffering in the wake of her son’s mounting medical bills.
A knock sounded on the open door. She looked up to see Tank, the ex-marine her father had hired just before he died. He was her bouncer, bartender, manager, and loyal friend. He stood just inside the office door, his muscled arms folded over his faded Metallica T-shirt.
“Hey, kiddo. That was Kevin. He can’t make it in tonight.” He scratched the now-grey stubble on his chin, which had been darker when her father had found him homeless on the streets in Atlanta and offered him a job.
“Again?” Georgia met the formidable man’s steady gaze. “Isn’t that the second time this week?”
“Third, lady bug.” He offered an I-told-you-so look. “Do you remember me mentioning I didn’t think the guy seemed too reliable?”
Georgia sighed. She needed reliable. This filling in at the last minute wasn’t fair to Kolby or to her aunt who helped her take care of her son. “Let me see what I can do,” she answered, leaning forward to pick up the old rotary dial phone. She’d kept it after taking over the bar, respecting her father’s belief that not all customers carried a “a damn cell phone.” He never had.
“Sure thing,” Tank replied. He hesitated a moment. “You want me to set up an ad in the job-find website?”
Georgia snorted. Thus far, she hadn’t had much luck with the applicants from the site. Most were looking for full benefits on part-time work at over minimum wage and were unwilling to work nights, weekends, or holidays. Though these days they closed on major holidays, mainly so she could spend time with her son. “I suppose, if you think it will do any good. Maybe just keep your ears open, maybe tell some of the regulars that we’re looking for help.”
“Got it,” he said as his gaze softened. “Hey, how’s that awesome son of yours?”
She smiled at the big man’s gentle kindness. When it came to Kolby, Tank was the world’s largest teddy bear. “In remission after his last bout of treatments.” Georgia crossed her fingers. “Hoping it sticks this time.”
The six-foot-three wall of muscle and brawn grinned through his silvery handle-bar moustache. “He’s a tough little guy. Learned it from his mama.” He glanced at his feet and sniffed once. “Okay, then, I’ll get started on that ad.”
“Thanks, Tank.” The brief conversation had managed to divert her attention briefly from her worry about the mounting bills, but her thoughts swung instead to the cherub-like face of Kolby—her brave little boy. She cradled her head in her hand, forcing herself not to get mentally dragged down by the “what ifs.” Together they’d faced the challenge head on since they’d discovered the cancer at the age of three. She opened her eyes and met the twinkling mischief in the photo the two had taken at a recent trip to the zoo. He was far more brave in all of this, never shedding a tear, fewer complaints than she’d ever had, and giving her a smile when she looked sad. He was her little ray of pure, unwavering sunshine.
The shrill ring of the phone jerked her from her thoughts. She touched her fingers to her lips and tapped the photograph, took a cleansing breath, and picked up the receiver. “Langley’s bar, how can I help you today?” She cleared the lump that had formed in her throat from her previous thoughts.
“Just double-checking on the date of our meeting. We’re getting tons of responses, which is great,” Jolie Harris asserted with her usual, to-the-point brightness. A high school classmate, once head cheerleader, and Georgia’s chief nemesis, Jolie now served on the reunion committee.
“I have it on the calendar.” Georgia scanned her calendar and noted the red circled around the date.
“Good. I’m anticipating a wonderful turn out given that we missed the five-year mark. There’s even the possibility that Jake’s brother…what was his name?”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Justin.”
“Oh, right, that’s it. I’ve gotten an email from him that he may show up.” There was a pause. “Didn’t you two date for a time back in school?” The woman had claws and the bitch attitude down to a science.
“I’ll have the lists ready for the meeting,” Georgia said, side-stepping Jolie’s remark. “I’ve got to run.” She slipped the receiver into the cradle before Jolie could respond.
If all went according to plan, the class reunion could be the break her new catering business needed to supplement the bar’s income. Having become aware that many local venues didn’t provide bartending services, she decided to answer the need with a portable bar, including staff. The venue being used for the reunion dinner dance was the newly renovated Trolley Barn over in the Inman Park district. Given that she’d much rather attend as a business than socially, she’d agreed to Jolie’s query to cater the event. At least this would give her extra capital to stave off the bill hounds for another month.
The downside was the remote possibility that she’d run into Justin Reed. Of course, it’d been ages since their difficult break-up, and she’d gone on to fall in love again with someone else. Still, her heart did a little flip when she thought of her first love.
After their initial break-up at the end of high school, she’d refused his letters, wouldn’t return his phone calls. She’d had good reason, given that an arrangement had been made between her father and his. After her pregnancy scare, a surprise visit by his father the summer of their senior year clarified that she would be the one holding Justin back from a promising future. A few years later, after his father’s funeral, she’d told him the truth over drinks of what had happened. He hadn’t taken the news well and, though she tried to make him see her reasoning, he’d stormed out, believing the worst. Shortly thereafter, she’d heard rumors that his mother had moved to Montana, leaving the family home to Jake and his fiancée.
There were no more phone calls. No more letters. She’d convinced herself that the clean break was for the best and then dove into her responsibilities at the bar to overcompensate for her loss. It wasn’t but a few weeks after that she’d heard he’d taken a teaching position in Montana. Though her heart ached that their relationship had ended as it had, she wanted him to be happy and hoped he’d one day find someone his family would accept.
Georgia picked up the calendar and counted the days until the reunion weekend. For all she knew, he had a wife and a tribe of kids by now. Her heart twisted at the thought. She’d felt certain her sacrifice had been the right thing to do, but with the possibility of seeing him again, Georgia’s heart ached anew.
She let out a heavy sigh. Had it not been for the fact that Langley’s needed the money, coupled with Jolie’s dig that as a local she should participate somehow, she’d have ignored the event altogether.
Georgia sat back and stretched her arms over her head, working out the stress in her shoulders. She needed a breath of fresh air. Walking through to the connecting room, she felt the pang of guilt of her father’s sacrifice. When he’d gotten too ill to drive, he’d had the small apartment built at the back of the bar. He’d insisted on working every day at the bar—cleaning, visiting with patrons, taking care of the bills—all the things she now had taken on.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said as she picked up the last photo they’d taken together. They were both smiling, unaware of how the world would come crashing down around them in a few short days. He died two weeks after the photo, leaving her the bar. She’d found solace in the arms of a country western singer who’d played the bar while touring with his band. And less than two weeks later, she’d lost him, too, in a horrific accident.
The pang of loss threatened to overwhelm her as it did when she dwelled on it. She pushed open the door leading out to a small porch that looked out on the tall Georgia pine at the back of the property. Her father used to come out here when he had a problem, something he needed to work out alone. He built the porch purposely facing the west, so he could see the sunset each night. It was his favorite time of day. He’d insisted that he should be buried at dusk.
Georgia eased into the old rocker that was her father’s and looked out across the darkening sky. She’d spent a lot of sunsets since out here on this very porch searching the twilight sky, asking God for answers to her questions about Kolby’s illness and his father’s untimely death, as well as the disease that taken her father away too soon. She had no answers yet to any of her questions—perhaps she never would.
The scent of pork roasting in the smoker outside the back door tickled her nose. She leaned back and took in a deep breath of the night air mixed with the earthy scent of Georgia pine coming from the grove of trees that her father had battled to keep when builders suggested they be taken down.
Her Dad had chosen this location and built the bar in homage to “southern hospitality” he felt was lacking in the city. It sat on the outskirts of the posh Atlanta suburbs, and had over time become the favorite of both blue-collar workers and the business elite of Atlanta. They came from miles around to savor a place to relax, enjoy a little southern comfort, and tap their feet to the music of up-and-coming country-western singers crisscrossing the honky-tonks in search of fame and fortune.
Georgia had started washing dishes at the age of fourteen and worked her way up to waitressing, and eventually to the business side of the bar. It’s where she’d first seen Justin Reed at the age of eighteen, trying to sneak in with his twin brother and a couple of friends to see one of the bands playing one early fall weekend. Tank had thwarted their plan immediately, calling them on their ruse by threatening to call one of the fathers to confirm their ages. It would be a couple of weeks later that she’d see him again. Georgia smiled as her thoughts drifted back to that fall evening long ago…
***
Georgia had never hung with the popular crowd. In truth, she’d found them boring and the majority of them spoiled. She preferred the artistic variety—music and theater students who hung out after school in the art room. Which only lent itself to confusion as to why she seemed to have a weird obsession for Justin Reed, a senior. He was the quieter of the twin brothers—both on the football team. Jake was the star quarterback. Justin—quicker on his feet—was one of the team’s top receivers. She’d gone with a friend to the homecoming game—a first in the history of her school career—but it was curiosity that drew her to observe the guy who’d inadvertently tossed her a friendly if not entirely humiliated smile as Tank escorted him from her father’s bar. Her friend, who happened to know one of the players with whom she had a “study arrangement”, had invited her to the bonfire after the game. She’d begged Georgia to go at the last possible moment, planting the seed of possibility that Justin Reed just might show.
That was all the incentive she’d needed. Still, she wasn’t about to reveal her hand entirely, even to her friend. “Okay, fine. I’ll hate it. All those snotty kids thinking they’re so much better than everyone, getting by with their kegs and coolers.” She glanced at her friend and chuckled. “Guess someone has to keep their eye on you.”
Her friend had smiled.
Later that night, Georgia had begun to regret her decision. She sat alone on an old log near the bonfire. The hoodie under her jean jacket barely covered enough to keep her warm from the chilly autumn night. Everyone around her was drinking, it seemed, laughing and nudging one another with dares to go visit the old house in the woods reported to have once been used as a hospital during the Civil War and was now haunted by those who’d died there. But Georgia knew it was primarily a dark, private place for kids to go make out. That’s where her friend and her study buddy had run off to, deserting her at the bonfire.
Georgia huddled as close to the fire as she could, watching the marshmallow on the end of her stick blacken to ash.
“Hey, it’s about damn time the rest of you got here,” came a yell from the shadows.
Jake Reed, as handsome as he was vocal, hopped from the old pickup truck and punched his fist into the air, emitting a tribal yell of victory. Those who’d been riding in the bed of the truck leapt over the side, following suit. The letter-jacketed cluster of athletes left one of their own in their wake.
Justin Reed.
Georgia watched as he stepped out of the driver’s side and pocketed his keys. She’d been there for nearly forty minutes without so much as a nod from anyone and had all but convinced herself that she was invisible to those she had no social connection to, so why would he even notice her staring at him? She staked her life that he was the designated driver tonight for his rowdy brother and his friends. They all beelined after Jake, who was heading for the keg.
She observed Justin stuff his hand in his pocket and scan the crowd of fifty or so homecoming revelers before pulling out his cell phone glancing at the time. She caught his heavy sigh followed by an eyeroll as he watched his brother, red Solo cup in hand, drop his arm around Jolie, the head cheerleader.
She was about to go back to her dying marshmallow when his gaze crossed path with hers. Okay, she might have claimed creative license when it seemed his eyes locked with hers with the heat of the fire crackling between them. Georgia’s heart faltered—what the hell? —which was an absurdity given that this guy was not in her league. Not even close. Oh, sure, she was worth it. She was a badass. Daughter of the owner of one of Atlanta’s hottest honky-tonks. She chuckled softly, doubting Justin Reed had ever met anyone outside his upper crust, country-club status.
Georgia held his gaze as he walked over and sat down on the log next to her. She looked away, then focused on tossing her burnt blob of marshmallow into the fire—stick and all.
“Some game, huh?” he said. He looked around as though mildly curious if anyone noticed him slumming it with the ghost in their midst.
Georgia didn’t respond, but poked at the fire, waiting for him to decide to leave.
After a moment, he chuckled as though she’d said something funny. “I can’t believe that last play, can you? Damn, I was lucky that Jake found me after I screwed up the play.” He shrugged. “I guess the important thing is we won, right?” He glanced at her. “You remember the play I’m talking about, right?”
He was adorable. Sweet. Probably lived in one of those ritzy districts where they had scheduled neighborhood potlucks every Friday night during the summer. “I don’t like football as a rule,” she said, forcing herself to look into those amazing blue eyes.
She wanted to kick herself for the flicker of hurt she saw pass through his gaze. He frowned and eyed her.
“Really, you don’t ever go to any of the games? Who doesn’t go to football games—especially homecoming?”
He gave her a lop-sided grin to show he was teasing her. This time, however, she was close enough to see the cute dimple that accompanied the smile.
“You do go to this school though, right?
Yeah, okay, maybe she deserved that. Still, it pissed her off. She pushed to her feet, ready to walk back to town if need be. He grabbed her arm.
“Hey, come on. It’s just that you seem familiar.” He slid his hand in hers, tugging on it until she sat back down. “I promise, we don’t have to talk about football.”
Georgia glanced at his handsome face. Those crystal blue eyes all but twinkled in the firelight. She wasn’t sure he’d keep his promise, but it was for certain that, right then and there, she’d fallen for Justin Reed—hard.
They talked, and Georgia found it surprisingly easy. So much so that later that night, when he’d dared her to go with him and a few others to the abandoned Stoneville house, promising he’d not leave her side and she didn’t need to be afraid, she agreed. The challenge that she couldn’t handle fear is what had pushed her to go. When, at one point on the dark trail through the woods, two of the guys veered off to create spooky noises for those going on, Justin pulled her behind a large oak and explained what was about to happen to those who’d walked ahead.
“And should I be afraid of what’s going to happen to me all alone with you out here in the dark?” she’d asked, touching her hand to his cheek.
He’d kissed her as she’d hoped, cautiously at first. Tentative. Unsure of his sexual prowess. Georgia had wondered if he’d ever kissed a girl before.
Maybe it was the night, the company, maybe the half cup of beer that left a pleasant buzz to her brain. But she grabbed the back of his head, infused with the need to taste his lips on hers. She’d pined after him silently for weeks, sneaking glimpses of him as he walked through the halls at school, their shoulders briefly touching once in the crowd between classes. He hadn’t noticed, but she hadn’t washed that shirt for a month after.
“Wow,” he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. He licked his lips and searched her eyes.
“I saw you that night at my dad’s bar,” she confessed.
His gaze narrowed. “That’s right, at Langley’s.” His hand slid down, drawing her hips to his. He grinned. “You were bussing tables, as I recall, that night. I knew we’d met before.” He touched his lips to hers.
“Not really met,” she said between his persistent kisses.
“Georgia, right?” he nuzzled the spot below her ear.
Chills raced down her spine, to her knees and everywhere in between. He knew her name? “Yeah, Georgia Anne,” she whispered, drugged by his charm.
“Georgia Anne,” he repeated with a smile as he studied her face. “I think you and I are going to get to know each other a whole lot more. What do you say?”
She fisted his jacket and dragged him closer, delighting in the low growl as she pulled him into another fiery kiss.
So began the season of their senior year—a year of unbridled, youthful passion. Oblivious to anyone but each other, they spent every moment together, defying anyone to call what they had anything but the “real deal.” That summer before he was to leave for college was seared in her memory. One rainy afternoon on an old deserted dirt road, they’d both lost their virginity in the cab of his beat up pick-up truck.
***
“Hey, Georgia.”
Shaken by her bartender’s authoritative voice, Georgia shook herself from the ancient memories.
“It’s that distributor again.” Tank held the side door open. “Wants to talk with you about the order you placed earlier this week.”
Her body tingled still from her previous thoughts. She blew out a sigh and looked up at the stars beginning to dot the night sky, realizing how she’d lost track of time. “I’m on my way.”
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