But lo and behold, I’m a respectful gentleman.
Or I’m trying to be, anyway.
“This is so amazing,” Georgia runs her fingers along the stone walls, dragging her arm behind her as she climbs. “Thank you for suggesting this.”
“You’re welcome.”
She peers back over her shoulder at me. “What kinds of things do you write about? I mean, other than touristy stuff.”
I chuckle, loving the way she looks from this angle. “I mostly just write about the places I travel to on my own. I went through the majority of my career being sent to certain towns or cities, writing about specific things, now… I basically do whatever I want.”
“So you’re pretty much retired?” She tilts her head as we make it to the top, where the big spotlight is. She steps out onto the level flooring and spins around to face me, and I realize it’s just the two of us here.
“I guess I’m partially retired, yeah,” I admit, my eyes unable to take in the view of the ocean with Georgia right here in front of me. The ocean waves have nothing on her.
Not even close.
“Hmm,” she gives me a teasing smile, and then spins around, her eyes casting out on the view that I’ve seen many times. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”
Yeah, you are.
“It’s something,” I say, stepping up beside her. I lean against the railing, glancing down at the waves as they crash into the beach. “Did you and your dad travel much when you were younger?”
“Not really, he and my mom were always going places and leaving me with my grandparents in Staten Island.” She turns to look up at me. “I think it was harder to take me than to leave me. Once my mom passed, it got even worse.”
My chest tightens as her smile fades. “I can’t imaginenotwanting to take someone like you everywhere.” I let out a chuckle to hopefully smooth over the awkward admission.
But Georgia’s eyes pull right back to the ocean, and she falls silent for a few beats. “This is really incredible.”
“Glad you like it.” I run my hands down the front of my jeans, and then check my phone.
Miles: We’re on our way back.
Shit. We need to get going.
I reach out and brush Georgia’s arm, the softness of her skin hot under my fingertips. “We need to get going. It didn’t take them very long.”
She looks up at me and nods. “I need to get started on dinner anyway. I’m trying something new tonight.”
“You say that every night,” I tease, nodding toward the staircase. “But I always like it. I think you might be the best chef Brody has ever hired.”And the hottest one, too.
She giggles and then takes off at a quick pace down the uneven stone steps. I hurry to keep up with her, andthat’swhen I see her left foot miss.
“Georgia!” I call out and reach for her, tugging her backward. She lets out a cry as she falls against me, and my back slams into the edge of the steps behind me.
Fuck, that’s going to hurt tomorrow.
But I shove the pain down and sit up, carefully helping Georgia up as well. I catch the warm scent of her perfume, and her body pressing into mine. But before I can react to it, I see the blood on her hand.
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” I grab for her wrist delicately, peering down at the gash across her palm.
“I’m fine,” Georgia tries to brush it off and rights herself, standing to her feet. “It’s not bad. I can put a Band-Aid on it, and we’ll be golden.”
“No, we need to get a first aid kit now,” I counter, reaching for hand again. “I’m so sorry this happened.” I peer down at the cut, fighting the urge to kiss all the places around it. “Come on.”
I support her by the elbow, carefully guiding her down the rest of the stairs. When we make it to the gift shop, I signal to the woman working behind the counter.
“We need a first aid kit.” I nod to the cut on her hand. “Pronto.” My voice carries across the small shop, and the older woman scrambles, digging somewhere behind the register.
