Ginny gasped and pouted. When she saw Georgia wouldn’t relent, she rolled her eyes and followed Dakota down the stairs.
Caroline stood behind her bickering sisters, letting herself out of the loft and hugging Georgia before also heading for the stairs. “Talk later, okay?”
“Yes. Definitely. I promise.” Georgia squeezed her tightly and then turned to face the man still standing in her apartment.
“Hi,” Georgia greeted him, flustered and a little unsure of herself.
“Hi. Sorry I interrupted your… slumber party.” He looked her up and down, openly admiring her very unattractive pajama choice.
She looked down at herself then glared at Lake, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Peaches?” His eyebrows raised, ready for battle.
“Don’t. Say. A. Word.”
“Don’t say how ravishing you look in those pjs fit for a toddler?” He wiggled those eyebrows, daring her to fight back. “Don’t say you look like Cindy-Lou Who before the Grinch stole Christmas? Or… don’t mention the fact that you have some sort of ice cream, sprinkle mixture across your cheek?”
She threw her hand to her face. “I do not!”
He stepped closer, placing the small gift bag on the ground, and lifted his hand to her cheek. “You do.”
He rubbed his thumb across her face, never looking away from her shocked eyes at his sudden proximity. At the warmth and softness of his touch. He brought his hand down quickly, as if he hadn’t realized he’d placed it there, and stepped back, clearing his throat. He looked around her loft, appreciatively.
“I like your place. Your tree is insane.”
Georgia’s eyes widened, and she gestured down to her footed pajamas and up again. Like,of course her tree was insane… look at her.
Lake had the decency tojustcontain his grin. “I um… I brought you something.”
“I see that.” Georgia couldn’t hide her smile as Lake handed her the bag and promptly shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I thought you could use it… to maybe start thinking about the future and doing more for yourself. To… I don’t know… focus onyourgifts a little more.” He shrugged and gestured for her to open it.
Georgia pulled out two small, colorful books, one about marketing and the other, personal entrepreneurship. She gave them both a quick flip-through, slipped them back in the bag, placed it on the coffee table, and adopted a grateful smile across her face. “Thanks so much, Lake. Really. That was incredibly sweet.”
He glanced between her and the discarded gift. “Sure. It’s no problem but…” he asked skeptically, “I feel like I missed the mark here. I’m not one to search for compliments, but do you actually like it? You kinda seemed uninterested just now.”
“What?” Her eyes shifted around the room. “No… I just…”
“You just… You hate it, don’t you? Wrong kind of book? Should’ve gone for fiction.”
She bit her lip, pushing away her discomfort. “Non-fictionisthe worst.”
He visually shivered. “Learning… information… bleh. Yeah, I hate ‘em.”
Georgia put her hands on her hips. “Fiction novels can be informational too, Lakeland. But I don’t hate these books. Thank you for thinking of me.” She gestured to the table but kept her distance. Lake’s gifts thus far had been lighthearted and fun. This one, for reasons Georgia didn’t want to investigate just yet, made her squirrelly. She walked towards her small kitchen. “You want a drink? Some water or tea maybe?”
He followed close on her heels. “No, thank you, I don’t need anything.”
Georgia rifled through her small, overstuffed kitchen cabinet and found the tallest glass she had, filling it to the absolute brim with water. She then turned to Lakeland and decided she’d drink that whole entire glass before answering.
He crossed his ankles, leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, and raised a suspecting eyebrow.
Ugh. Counter-leaning. When did it become so attractive?She wondered how long she could make a single glass of water last without more questioning. More time to shamelessly stare at the man taking up her tiny kitchen space. She finished with a giant gulp, wiped her mouth, and released a satisfying sigh. “Yum. Water… I was thirsty.”
“Mmmhmmm. I can see that.” He crossed his arms. “Tell me why you dislikethesenon-fiction books so very, very much.”
“I don’t dislike them.”
