When George invitesme to his home, I agree because all my horny brain can think of is getting him alone in a place that isn’t owned by BBN. When we’re in our respective cars, he texts me his address, and I gape at the familiar street.
Me:You live in the same building as Shawn???
George:Yeah
Me:You could’ve just told me! I don’t need to GPS this
George:I wanted to see how many exclamation points you’d use when you found out
George:Shawn would’ve had ten minimum
Me:I’m not my brother, sir. I’m much more poised. Mature. Demure even.
George:And way sexier
I put my phone down after that because it’s probably hazardous to drive while horny. I cannot afford to get a speeding ticket because of my libido.
Still, the fact that I know where I’m going gives my mind leave to swirl through this new info. Now that elevator incident from years ago makes sense. When George jumped out just after I got in to head up to Shawn’s place, I expected him to show up a few minutes after me. He never did, so I figured the guy abandoned the building altogether. One more indicator that he hated me.
But I guess he was just going back to his place.
Oh god, what if I run into Shawn while I’m on my way to…
Well, I’m not sure what George and I are about to do, but it definitely won’t be family friendly. I scan the parking garage for signs of my brother as I pull into a spot but only catch sight of a distractingly handsome pilot waiting by the elevator.
He wears a smug grin as I jog to his side.
“I can’t believe you live here.” I knock my shoulder against his, and before I step away, he wraps an arm around me, pulling me flush to his side.
“It’s a nice building. My best friend lives here. And there’s this gorgeous girl who shows up sometimes.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head as the metal doors slide open. With him so close, I get a delicious whiff of his cologne.
My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek as I try to fight off a smile.
George guides me into the elevator and pushes a button that won’t take us all the way to Shawn’s penthouse. “So, you left after book club? Just popped down a few floors?”
“No. I slept on the couch.”
From what I recall in my tipsy memory of that night,Ifell asleep on the couch. But I woke up in the bed.
“Did you carry me to the guest room?”
George grunts what sounds like ayes.
A suspicion taps at the back of my mind. “When we left, you came down to the parking garage with me.” Where we encountered my shit stain of a father. But before that bucket of frigid water was dumped on our pleasant exchange, I figured George was on his way home. “I thought you were heading out. Was there a reason you didn’t go back to your place?”
“I did go back to my place.”
“You did?”
The doors open and George drops his arm but only so he can scoop up my hand to guide me down the hall. “Yeah. I just wanted to hang out with you longer.”
My entire body threatens to melt.
“George Bunsen.” I try to keep my voice lighthearted to cover up how much what he said affected me. “I think you have a crush. On me.”
He smirks over his shoulder while unlocking what I assume is the door to his place. “If you onlythinkI have a crush on you, Beth Lund-berg, then I need to try harder.”
Part of me wants to dig into how George defines “harder,” while another part focuses on his strong grip turning the knob that will reveal where he lives his life.
