“I don’t need your help with the schedule, I need you to show up for your shifts when I ask! And you don’t get to talk to me that way!”
Georgia watched them volley back and forth, unsure of what calamity had taken place over the past four days that she’d obviously missed.
Sadie marched up to Dakota, shoving her finger in his chest and pushing him back a few steps. Her small, but mighty stature covered in tattoos and a show of effortless ferocity drew a stark contrast to his militant, clean cut, and much taller frame. “Youdo not scare me, Dakota Remillard, and I’m not gonna let you bust into this kitchen, whether it belongs to you and your family or not, and order me around. Not today. Not ever!”
Dakota had the audacity to flick her finger away before booping her nose.
Georgia hissed in a breath.
Her brother was dumber than a doornail.
She felt it wrong not to intercede but also knew it’d bring no small satisfaction to witness Dakota receiving a well-deserved butt whoopin’ from the tiny girl standing in front of him, looking like she could wring his very neck.
“Um,” Georgia took a step towards the swinging door, thinking it best to leave them to it. “I’m just gonna go check on the shop.”
Dakota and Sadie both froze, as if suddenly aware of Georgia’s presence in the midst of their tension, and yelled in tandem, “No!”
Georgia’s eyes widened, and her suspicion grew a mile wide. She pushed her hand through the door before they could stop her and found Good Start overloaded with… teenage girls. From literal floor to ceiling, a host of Ginny’s friends from school and the youth group stood on chairs and ladders hanging handmade, ornamental snowflakes and dangly, white Christmas lights from the wooden rafters. Her jaw slackened, taking in the beautiful chaos in the room. She could see both her parents, just outside the shop, hanging her favorite oversized bulbs in the windows. Blaire and Ryan sat at a table talking over coffee. They both noticed her stares and smiled wide back at her. At the entrance, Caroline was busy writing the lyrics toWhite Christmasin loopy calligraphy on the shop's giant chalkboard, usually reserved for menu specials. A vintage, red Radio Flyer sled—a family heirloom passed down from Georgia’s late grandfather—sat propped against a flocked tree at Good Start’s entrance.
Andcotton. There was cotton on every surface. As if she’d been dropped in the middle of a field, freshly blooming. Small bouquets rested on each table, larger ones in oversized vases decorated the corners of the room, and the windowsills each held long boxes filled with cotton stems, greeting onlookers from the street.
“Southern snow,” Georgia whispered to herself.
A hand tentatively slipped into hers. “Hello, Georgia Snow,” Lake whispered in her ear, his breath a warm welcome against her cheek.
She looked up at him, their noses nearly touching. “You… did all of this.”
“Theydid this.” Lake flicked his head gently towards the crowd of giggly teenagers who’d paused their fluttering through Good Start to catcall and cackle at Georgia and Lake. “I thought I’d take advantage of the free help if I could.” Lake looked down at their fingers, tightening, and said, “What are ya doin’ with my hat, there, Peaches?”
She fumbled for a minute, “Oh I just was, um… bringing it to you. Here.” She handed it over. Lake promptly placed it backwards on his head, his biceps bulging just slightly in the perfectly fitted black tee he wore. Georgia salivated.
She audibly gulped and asked,“How many?”
“How many what?
“How many youth did you convince to decorate the store using your charm and,” she gestured down Lake’s body from head to toe, “all of this?” She put her free hand on her hip, waiting for an answer.
“Do you like it?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“So much.”
He smirked and leaned close again.“Come with me?”
She nodded and eagerly followed as he led her by the hand back to the kitchen, with a chorus of high-pitched “oooohhhhoooooos” from the audience left behind in the room.
“Hush, y’all!” she heard Ginny say over the crowd. “Give ‘em some privacy… We won’t hear anything they say if you’re out here hollerin’!”
When they reached the hallway to her apartment and the small darkened alcove of stairs she’d barreled down only minutes before, Lake released her and stepped back from the wall, putting space between them.
“You look like you’re feeling better. Sleep well?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting in tandem with the tilt of his mouth.
“So, you’re not gonna be a gentleman about this?”
He shook his head. “Not a chance, Peaches.”
She crossed her arms. “Don’t.”
“You were sleepin’ so very, very peacefully when I left…”
