Heaven help her, Georgia had to take three grounding breaths just to maintain her composure.
It had been years—YEARS—since she’d laid eyes on Lake’s smug face, and she still hated the way her stomach jumped at the nickname he’d given her. A nickname in a long list of nicknames used for the sole purpose of grating her nerves. Lake had been the widely admired but obviously troubled bad boy of their school, and Georgia had never been able to steer herself clear of him. Then he’d handed her a crushing disappointment their senior year.
Unfortunately, Lake also happened to be the preacher’s son at the church her family called home. Which meant, despite her most valiant efforts, Georgia could not escape the occasional mention of Lakeland Lovett and, therefore, could not forget him or his annoyingly handsome face.
She shoved down the instant indignation his mere presence alighted inside and aimed for civility. “Lake. Hi. Good to see you.”
“Good to seeyou,” he said with his trademark charm. “You look good, Peaches. I didn’t know you were back here in Sugartree. It's been quite a while.”
“Yup. Been back for the last three years. And, again… as always, my name is Georgia. You know this.”
“Mhmm, I remember,” he waved her off, maintaining an uncomfortable amount of piercing blue-eye contact. “Three years. Wow. Three years you’ve been home… But what about marketing?”
This struck her. She hadn’t spoken to or about Lake since they’d graduated from high school. She thought little of him, in fact. Aside from the random scan of local police reports or a search along prayer requests for his delinquent name, Lake Lovett had never crossed her mind.
Never. Not one bit. She didn’t think about him at all…
“What about marketing? What doyouknow about marketing?”
“That’s what you went to school for, right? Weren’t you working at some fancy marketing firm in Atlanta?” he asked as if they’d been friends. As if he’d kept up with her whereabouts.
“Are you stalking me?” she blurted, not thinking about the small line of customers growing in the shadow of Lake’s giant body.
He looked at her with amusement. “No, Peanut. I’m not stalking you.”
Peanut. The worst of Lakeland’s little nicknames. Used as if she were six years old and he took great pleasure in pulling her pigtails. Diabolical.
She clenched her hands into fists, rested them on the counter, and after a deep, cleansing breath, relinquished them to gesture to the line forming. “Are you gonna order something or what? We’re a little busy… even for the famous Lake Lovett.”
He smiled again, totally relaxed by all appearances and unaffected by Georgia’s obvious discomfort. He scanned the board curiously and then noticed Dakota talking to a very enthusiastic small group of women meandering near the other end of the counter.
“Hey, your brother’s here too! And I saw Caroline on my way in. Must be nice to have them both home. And I bet the youngest Remillard is hanging around here somewhere.” He scanned the room and then put his pointer finger in the air. “Ya know what, I wanna say hey. I’ll be right back.”
Before Georgia could even answer—or encourage this nuisance of a man to order a dang drink and get lost—he’d stepped aside to greet her brother like they were old pals.
“Dakota! Good to see you, man!” Lots of man-hugging, handshaking, and commentary on how they had both bulked up over the years flooded Georgia’s ears, and concentration, as she took the orders of the very patient patrons who’d been waiting.
She made herself busy with a vanilla latte, a simple black cold brew made from their famous in house roasted beans, and a London Fog. Tending the register and making the drinks seemed to take longer than usual as she felt Lake’s eyes on her in the midst of his conversation with Dakota.
The room cleared slightly, with happy customers finding seats or moving on to other shops. Georgia thought she might sneak away completely. Find a hiding place in the kitchen until Lake and his dumb dimples and grating nicknames disappeared for another seven years. Until, that is, her father greeted him from across the room like the prodigal son returning from his various exploits.
She cringed as her father nearly galloped to the spot where Dakota and Lake carried on. “Lakeland Lovett. It sure is good to see you, son. Your daddy talks about you all the time.” He slapped him good-naturedly on the back, and Georgia nearly lost her breakfast. “I heard tell you were back in town.”
“Yes sir, Colonel. Got home last week.” He shook her father’s hand and looked at Georgia, who was still feeling sickly across the counter.Was she in the twilight zone?
“Always good to see your family. It’s been too long.” And then Lake winked—WINKED—at her! In front of God and everybody.
“And how long will you be in town, sweetheart?” Out of nowhere, her mother appeared, forgetting all pretense of personal space, rubbing Lake’s forearm and giving him a little squeeze. “You sure have grown into such a handsome young man.”
She turned to Georgia. “Georgia Snow, isn’t he so handsome?!”
Georgia felt every eye turn to her, expecting a response of some sort.Was he handsome?
Um. Duh. It was a universally accepted, objective truth. The man had a jawline that could crack a dang diamond in half, and perfect sky blue eyes that she was sure had made many a weak woman swoon with a flutter of his impossibly long eyelashes. But she wasn’t about to admit it to him, or her family, or anyone. Ever.
EVER!
Lake seemed to take pity on Georgia and redirected to her mother, chuckling as he put his arm around her in an all too friendly embrace. “Thank you, Mrs. Remillard. You’re just as beautiful as ever. It’s easy to see where your girls get it from.”
