Georgia ground her teeth and bit down on her lip, hiding the mixture of irritation and pleasure with having Lake in her home.
“Hello, Lakeland. I was beginning to think you hadn’t come.”
He stood at her side, allowing his shoulder to brush hers, and looked over the others talking amongst themselves.
“And I was beginning to think you’d chicken out of showing up at all.”
“Me?” She put her hand to her chest. “Chicken out?”
He nodded once, a secret smile on his lips.
“Never.” She moved to stand near her mom. “Mama, let’s get this show on the road. You need some help getting dinner on the table?”
“Oh, but don’t you wanna sit and chat some?” her mother asked, ever the example of Southern hospitality.
"Nah. I think I'm good. Thanks."
Joan raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice an entire octave. The tone that let Georgia know if she'd been anywhere within reach, she'd have been pinched discreetly in warning.
"And I think, Georgia Snow, that I'd like to offer our guests some sweet tea and conversation before I stuff them full and send them on their way."
Dakota’s snicker turned into a cough when his mother turned her eyes to him. Caroline patted his back.
"Okay, Mama." Georgia addressed the rest of the room, starting with Lake and Evan first, "Can I offer y'all some sweet tea and conversation?"
Lake's eyes lit up with amusement, and she heard her dad release a nearly identical cough to Dakota's from just a moment before.
But when Joan Remillard’s bright green eyes shot like laser beams towards her eldest daughter, Evan took the cue and graciously intervened, "I'll take some sweet tea, thanks."
Still standing too near, Lake volunteered, "And I'll take some lively conversation."
Joan clapped. "Perfect. Lakeland, dear, will you please help Georgia along in the kitchen?"
"Sure thing." Lake followed behind a pouting Georgia.
"I'm pretty sure my mother thinks your middle name is Dear," Georgia said once they were alone in the kitchen. She whipped open the refrigerator, retrieving the sweet tea, and slammed the pitcher down on the counter.
"How was your day, Georgia? You seem a little cranky. If you don't mind me saying."
She grabbed her mama's favorite wooden serving tray and enough glasses for everyone, placing them on the tray. "Oh, no, Lakeland Dear, I'm just fine. Thanks. And I simply adore being called cranky before appetizers."
He smirked and grabbed cocktail napkins from the counter, setting them beside the crackers Georgia had begun to lay out next to the glasses.
"And you?" she asked. "Are you faring well? Taking care of all those pesky hemorrhoids and fissures?"
"I've got a pain named Georgia giving me grief at present, but otherwise I’m just fine, thanks."
"Good. Good. And been keepin' busy? Breakin' hearts and tellin' tales?" She sliced through a block of cheese more aggressively than necessary, layering slices along the crackers.
Lake placed his hands on the counter, hardly ill-affected by Georgia, and leaned closer. "Now, Georgia, is that any way to talk to afriend?I thought we agreed to start over?"
"We did?"
"We did. Remember? You nodded at me."
"A binding agreement."
He nodded, entirely too serious. "Yes, ma'am. We may as well be blood brothers."
