“You look nice today, Georgia.” His soft voice is strikingly comforting, given everything I’ve gone through this morning. “You should make sure to get some good pictures.”
“Oh?” I tilt my head at him. “Why?”
“That way, you have proof of your grandiose chef job,” he lets out a chuckle, and I find myself smiling.
“I guess I could.”
“I can take them for you, if you want.”
“That’s really sweet of you,” I say, reaching for the handle on the door. “But I really need to get started on breakfast. I don’t want to run late… you know, it might upset Brody or something.”
His brows raise, and I note the way his black and white striped shirt fits his toned chest and shoulders. “I highly doubt you could do anything to piss Brody off. I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re a walking goddess.”
“Ha,” I force myself to be nonchalant. “I definitely don’t think he considers me anything close to that.”
In fact, Emmett, he actually thinks I’m the biggest mistake ever.
Andthatis a far cry from goddess status.
Chapter 8
Emmett
“This is amazing,” I say, popping the last bite of crab into my mouth. “Like holy shit, Georgia.” I peer up at where she’s seated, staring down at her own untouched plate.
She brings her eyes up to meet mine in a brief smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks. I’m sorry it was late. It took me way too long to get it right.”
“Worth it,” Miles comments, stabbing his fork into his own crab cake. “This might be my favorite meal yet.”
“You say that every time,” I joke, rolling my eyes. “It’s getting old. You need to come up with a new compliment for our amazing chef.”
Brody lets out a grunt, and I raise my brows at him. He’s acted like he’s got a stick up his ass all fucking day. It’s grinding on my nerves. This is supposed to be a break from people and all their shitty attitudes.
Not an entrapment with a miserable asshole.
“I’m glad you guys are happy with my dinners,” Georgia says, her tone sweet and soft, but also lacking its usual fervor.
Something is wrong.
My eyes bounce between both Brody and Georgia—and I’m not an idiot. There’s something off in their dynamic. It’s like they’re avoiding acknowledging each other’s existence.
Well, Brody is anyway. Georgia continues to steal glances at him.
What happened?I purse my lips and scoop up a bite of the rice, watching the two of them carefully. The journalist in me wants to press and get to the bottom of it.
But that’s never a good idea.
“Are we going to have any more bad weather?” I ask Brody, as I swallow my food and reach for my wine. “I saw on the news there might be something further down the coast.”
“It’ll be fine,” Brody snaps, setting his fork down. It clatters against the plate, and I glance at Miles as Georgia cringes.
The expression he gives me tells me he’s not oblivious to any of this either.
“Well, that’s good. That storm we had last night?—”
“Was nothing,” Brody cuts me off, shoving his chair back from the table and standing.
Well then, okay, Mr. Asshole.
