Georgia On My Mind (A Magnolias and Moonshine novella Book 7) Read online

  “Hey, look there.” He slowed the truck at the sight of an old picnic table, one seat missing and turned on its side. Not far off were remnants of an old weed-covered stone ring. “I think that’s our fire pit.” He stopped the truck and got out to investigate the site. He scanned the area, now thick with underbrush, and thought of wild animals--something that had never occurred to them in high school.

  Georgia sat watching from the truck.

  “Aren’t you curious to see what we might find out here?” he called over his shoulder.

  She hopped down from the truck and walked cautiously through the weeds. “Someone’s lost virginity?” She tossed him a grin.

  He nodded with a chuckle. “I think I can manage to clean this out and build us a fire.”

  “You think that will stave off the axe-murderers and zombies?”

  He began to pull the overgrowth from the stones. “There is a blanket and picnic basket in the truck.”

  “Well, aren’t you the well-prepared boy scout?” she teased as she scanned the area.

  He glanced up, her smile hitting him with a sucker punch to his gut. “Ready, maybe.” He grinned. “Not so sure about the boy scout part, though.”

  She raised a brow, turned on her boot heel, and walked back to the truck. He watched the hem of her dress flip with each step. He tore his gaze from her long, bare legs, tamping down his lust. He wasn’t sure where this day was headed, but he sure as hell knew he didn’t want it to end.

  They spread the blanket on an old log and shared the lunch he’d packed, followed by steaming mugs of coffee and Faith’s chocolate chip cookies. The sky had gone from misty filtered sun to a muted gray, signaling the possibility of a stray shower.

  “I’m impressed, Mr. Reed. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man cook for me before,” she said, peering at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

  “I question whether lunchmeat sandwiches constitute ‘cooking’, but I can’t take all the credit. My sister-in-law, Faith, offered her help—and the cookies.” He held up his dessert.

  “Faith,” Georgia repeated. “That’s a pretty name.” She crossed her boots at the ankle, holding her cup in both hands. “I guess there has been one little man who’s cooked for me…well”—she laughed— “attempted to cook for me.” She gave him a side look. “Kolby once tried to make me breakfast.” She smiled at her secret thoughts, then glanced at him. “Let’s just say he could use some more training before he opens his first restaurant.”

  Justin studied her. “I’d like to know more about him. He seems like a great kid.” He hoped she’d open up about her son.

  “Hey,” she said, straightening suddenly. “Do you think the old Stoneville house is still around here?”

  Chapter Four

  Georgia avoided his gaze, seeing the curiosity that flashed across his face. She was grateful when he helped gather their picnic items instead of pursuing the subject of her son.

  She waited behind as he dropped the basket in the truck and locked it. He tucked the blanket under his arm. “You know, I haven’t been back here since the night we met,” she said as he returned to her. His blue-eyed gaze met hers and the memory of that night—a lifetime ago--played in her brain, including the first time he’d kissed her. “Now that I’m all grown up, it might not seem so spooky.”

  He took her hand. “Come on, then. Let’s check it out.”

  She followed as he led the way through the woods, spotting relics—beer cans, an old shoe, a crumpled cigarette pack—scattered along the way.

  “Chances are we’re headed in the right direction.” Justin grinned over his shoulder.

  Between the clouds gathering overhead and the dense forest of trees, Georgia didn’t lag far behind.

  “I think I see it,” he said, pushing aside a spray of low pine branches.

  She followed him into a clearing and stood at his shoulder as they stared at the ramshackle bones of what was once a fine rural home.

  “I thought this place was on the register of historic homes,” she said, glancing at him. “Wasn’t it supposedly used as a hospital during the Civil War?”

  The majority of windows on the main floor were boarded up. The upper story windows stared cold and dark out over the trees.

  “That’s what I understood.” He shrugged. “I’ll go around to the other side. You stay here. Hold this.” He handed her the blanket and eyed the front porch roof. A corner drooped precariously low on one side. “Whatever you do, don’t go near that porch.”

  He trotted off.

  “This isn’t much good against a zombie attack,” she called after him as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

  She scanned her surroundings, her senses heightened to the strange woodland sounds. A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, followed by a loud bang. Her heart leapt. Twice more the banging came, and her heart tried to claw its way out her chest. More disturbing was the silence that followed. It had seemed an eternity since Justin had walked around to the other side of the house. She chided herself mentally for letting her imagination spin into overdrive.

  A single raindrop landed on her arm, followed by another, then another. She glanced up as the sky seemed to open up. A torrential rain fell in straight sheets from the heavens. “Justin!” She blinked away the temporary obstacle of water obscuring her vision.

  “Come on, follow me.”

  She felt his hand grab hers, tugging her around to the side of the house as they ran through the torrential rain.

  “Down here.” He pointed to the open cellar door.

  “You’re serious?” The entrance yawned like a dark cave. “It’s pitch black down there,” she reasoned, even as her sodden dress began to cling to her body.

  “We could try to run back through the woods to the truck.” The grin on his rain-streaked face made her smile.

  “Why is it every time I’m with you I find myself in trouble?”

  “You used to like trouble,” he said with a wicked smile.

  “You first.” She cocked her head and stepped aside.

  He rolled his eyes and side-stepped his way down the five or six narrow stone steps. At the bottom, he held up his hand to guide her down.

  Out of the rain, at least, her eyes adjusted to the dank, dirt-floored basement. An overwhelming stench of decay—she didn’t want to think about what—brought bile to her throat.

  “There’s some steps over there.” Justin brushed his hand through his short hair, causing it to go every which way.

  Messy, a little reckless—the thought of how they’d once been stirred in her blood.

  “Watch your step,” he said, switching on the flashlight on his cell phone.

  “For dead bodies, you mean,” she muttered, stepping gingerly around shadowy objects she’d just as soon not identify.

  Sodden, she clung to the blanket beneath her jacket and gripped the railing with the other hand. She followed his light up the rickety wood steps, praying with every creak that the step wouldn’t collapse. They emerged from the bowels of the house into the kitchen. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her and realized she’d left her phone and purse in the backseat of his truck.

  “I’m looking for some light. My phone’s about to die,” he said as he rummaged through the cupboards.

  Her teeth began to chatter. “Is it c-c-cold in here?”

  He walked over and held her shoulders. “Where’s the blanket?”

  She pulled it from under her jean jacket, where she’d tucked it away as they ran.

  “Take off your jacket and dress, and wrap it around you.” He opened the blanket with a quick snap and held it out.

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen you, Georgie. Come on, you’ll catch your death.” He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll look away.”

  Georgia quickly removed her jacket and dress, laying them to dry over a kitchen chair. She stepped into the blanket as he wrapped it around her. He turned her to face him, hi
s grip still on the blanket.

  “That should help some.”

  She met his gaze and held it as he lowered his mouth to hers. She gave in to the moment, relishing the taste of him, the way he coaxed her patiently until she deepened the kiss. She placed her hand on his wet shirt and withdrew from his grasp.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  He grinned. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

  She glanced at the floor. “I could see that being problematic.” She searched his eyes. “Maybe we should see if the fireplace still works.”

  He nodded.

  She wandered down the narrow corridor to what would have been the sitting room or parlor at one time. Indeed, there was a stone fireplace, but half the face had fallen into a state of disrepair, making it impossible to use.

  Georgia sensed him standing behind her.

  “That night was one of the best times of my life,” he said. The soft tone in his voice sent chills over her bare flesh. She hugged the blanket closer and looked over her shoulder to see him rummaging through a pile of objects left by trespassers and previous owners.

  “Some of this stuff is pretty old.” She tried to change the subject. “You’d think someone would have seen its value,” Georgia said, running her fingers over the dusty, curved back of an ornate sitting chair.

  Justin picked through a stack of old books, peering behind a crate. “Sometimes, people don’t see the value of what they left behind until it’s too late.”

  She pondered the double meaning and wondered if he realized the wisdom of his words.

  “Bingo.” He lifted up an old lantern from behind a crate. “Now, if it has any oil left in it.” He rifled through his pockets, pulling out a book of matches with the Langley’s logo on the front. “Glad I happened to pick these up the other night.” He lit the wick. The tiny flame flickered bravely, offering at least an imaginary warmth.

  A loud thump from upstairs captured Georgia’s attention. She darted a look at Justin, who appeared equally as startled. She wanted to wipe off his wicked grin. He waggled his brows.

  “That’s not funny,” she whispered, moving next to him. He placed an arm around her and, holding the lantern high, guided her to the base of the stairwell.

  “I’ll go check it out,” he said. Justin patted her shoulder and headed up the steps.

  Hastily, she followed, grabbing the waistband of his jeans. He glanced back at her and grinned.

  “I’ve seen those movies. No way in hell am I staying down here alone.”

  He made a ghost-like sound and she batted his backside with her hand, receiving a soft chuckle in return.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, she realized gratefully that the light was better where the windows weren’t impeded by boards. A cool breeze circled around her knees, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

  The narrow corridor ran the length of the front of the house, intersecting with another hallway that led to the back of the house. They stood at the crossroads in the hall, scouting both ways. A door at one end slammed suddenly and Georgia dove into Justin’s arms.

  “Remind me to thank the ghost,” he said quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head as he held her close. His quiet laugh reverberated against her heart.

  “We could both be devoured by zombies at any moment and all you can think of is me clinging to you like a wet monkey?” She looked up and met his heated gaze.

  “Hey, can’t blame a guy for having a dying wish.”

  “Will you go find out what…or who…shut that door?” She gave him a pointed look.

  He grabbed her chin and tilted her face to his, capturing her mouth in a quick but thorough kiss. “Just in case.” He started down the hall.

  Following quietly on his heels, a million scenarios took flight in her mind—from a vagrant passing through to an escaped convict, maybe a wild bear, or worse, a ghost.

  She fisted the back of Justin’s shirt as he eased the door open, its old hinges squeaking loudly through the silent house.

  “Oh, my God,” he screamed, throwing open the door.

  Georgia screamed, and without thought, pushed ahead and freed herself from the blanket, wadding it in front of her like a stubby, sagging sword.

  Justin raced by her, planting one foot on the old mattress on the bed as he swatted at a furry brown animal searching for an escape through the partially open window. The gauzy white curtain, hanging torn on the rod, waved happily in the breeze.

  Georgia stared at the sight, observing in what seemed to be slow motion Justin battling the squirrel until it finally leapt out the window. Victory won, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed in an attempt to get her heart under control.

  Justin stood at the window laughing his ass off. He walked around the edge of the bed, still laughing. The man had tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

  “I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Georgia glanced at him as he sat down beside her. She debated whether to shove him out the window after the varmint or toss him back on the bed and relieve the tension she’d been repressing.

  “Oh, my God, that was priceless,” he said, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

  She punched his shoulder. “You were just hoping that’s what I would do.”

  His laughter dissolved. “Maybe I was.” He touched her shoulder and, despite the blanket barrier, her skin erupted in gooseflesh. She shivered.

  He dropped his arm behind her and leaned close, pushing his face to hers. “Come on, admit it was funny. The look on your face”—he tucked an errant wisp of hair over her ear— “was…is…beautiful.”

  “You’re an ass,” she said, eying him as he drew close. His gaze lingered a moment on her mouth before meeting her eyes.

  “I think maybe you kind of like that, Georgie,” he said, softly touching his lips to hers.

  She reached up to touch his firm jaw. She’d always loved his mouth, the shape, how it fit to hers. He eased her back on the bed, slipping his hand beneath the opening of the blanket, slowly caressing her with each kiss, freeing her inhibitions.

  He pulled back and searched her eyes. “I never thought a pair of boots and underwear would turn me on, but damn, woman, you’ve got me turned inside out and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  She wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him onto a fiery kiss. “I think you can figure it out, cowboy.”

  He swallowed hard, holding her gaze, his blue eyes smoldering heat. “Keep your boots on.”

  “Only if you do.” She sighed as he drew down the lacy top of her bra, freeing one rosy tip. Lavishing her with teeth and tongue, he kissed his way to her panties, drawing them down with his teeth.

  The wicked grin as he looked up at her was enough to make her wet. Tossing aside what clothes she wore, he assisted her in drawing his T-shirt over his head, and welcomed him into another passionate kiss. The weight of him felt glorious, the hard muscle of his body pressing to hers. He covered the juncture between her thighs, tracing the warmth with his fingers as he kissed his way down her belly, rubbing his unshaven jaw against her sensitive flesh, causing a slow burn to rise as he pleasured her.

  Georgia was lost in a euphoric haze. Hooking her boot heels to the bedsprings, she grabbed at the blanket, her body writhing to his loving touch. She’d lost her virginity to him years ago, as a boy, and now she was losing her mind to his skills as a mature lover.

  “My sweet Georgie,” he whispered, his hot breath searing her flesh.

  She glanced down, aware of every sensation, her heart overjoyed that it was Justin summoning these wonderful sensations, causing the heat to build deep inside her.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, moving over her, crushing his mouth to hers as he plunged two fingers deep, bringing her to dizzying heights. She fell apart in a blur of laughter and tears, blindly reaching for his belt. “Lord in heaven, tell me you have protection.”

  He stood, shov
ing his jeans down, and sheathed himself in short order before covering her body with his, pushing in fully to the hilt.

  She closed around him, milking him with another climax.

  “Jesus. Georgie,” he gasped, building to a slow rhythm.

  She held him, not wanting to let go. How could she watch him leave again? She shoved the thought away, wanting this moment with him--even if it was to be the last time.

  ***

  Justin’s body stood at the edge of a cliff. This was Georgia. His Georgia. He kissed her softly, searching those beautiful eyes as richly colored as any pine forest. He wanted her to remember this, to claim her, to spoil her for anyone else.

  They moved in tandem, what he’d once felt for her in the beginning reawakened with each tender kiss, each look, each whispered word. He loved her then, and he realized the truth—he was still in love with her.

  “Justin,” she said, framing his face, then sighed as another climax claimed her body. His body broke free, and he drove hard, giving in to his own release, his body loving her with everything he had. “I love you, Georgie,” he said though the haze of lust in his brain.

  Only then did he realize Georgie’s quiet sobbing. “Georgie, honey, you okay?”

  She pushed gently against his shoulders and sat up. Quickly grabbing her underwear and drawing the blanket around her, she hurried downstairs.

  By the time he’d pulled himself together, she was dressed, the blanket wadded in her arms as though shielding herself. “I need to go now, Justin. I need to get home.”

  He was confused by her reaction to what he’d felt was an amazing breakthrough in their relationship—that suddenly, he realized, seemed very one-sided. Maybe he’d only seen, only felt, what he wanted to see and feel. Dammit.

  Neither spoke on the drive in the aftermath of the storm. There was no magical sunset to end this illusion. No holding hands, no quiet smiles, no heated glances.

  He followed her to the front door in more of an attempt to keep pace with her than enjoying the moment they’d shared. Part of him wondered if she was thinking of the funeral, when they’d made love and then things had changed. As far as he was concerned, that wasn’t going to happen this time. Not unless, of course, it was her that walked away. A cold dread formed in his gut at the very real possibility.