Page 69 of Wine & Dine

“Georgia,” he corrects until his eyes meet mine and understanding blossoms.

“Go home, Tin Man. The fantasy is over.”

“No,” he demands, stepping into my space, but I hug myself tighter, stepping away from him. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”

“Why do you care? I’m sure Alicia is next in line.” The words sting, his expression crestfallen while his eyes harden.

“Why would you say such a thing? I care about you.”

“You care about an investment.”

“Screw the investment. I’ll just gift you the money.”

“I don’t want your money,” I spit. “I’ve never wanted that from you.” More burning tears spill as my eyes shift to my brother, who is keeping audience over our argument. I never wanted his money either. I just wanted my brother back. I just wanted Garrett to feel the way I feel about him.

You’re such a fucking idiot, Dolores.

“Go home, Denton. I’ll call you later.” I can’t deal with both men collectively.

Garrett keeps his eyes on me as I watch my brother spin and walk out the door. When the diner door clicks shut, Garrett speaks again.

“Sweetheart, not wanting my money is one of the reasons I like you so much. You’re refreshing and unassuming.”

“I’m naïve and stupid.” So stupid to think he slept with me because he was attracted to me when it sounds like all he wanted was a business arrangement…with my brother. My stomach roils. “Was I a part of the contract?”

“Stop it,” he barks in my face, and I flinch. “Stop right there.” His tone sharpens, and he reaches for my cheeks, pressing me until my back hits a wall where a booth used to be. His voice begs, “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I growl. “That’s my problem. I let things happen around me, over me.” This is the story of my life. “I’ve been doing nothing for nearly two months, and now I’ve got the fucking mess of a lifetime on my hands.” The reality of the diner socks me in the stomach, and my body trembles like a shock victim. The truth slowly sinks in. I don’t have the financial means to fix this mess, and this mess means I don’t have finances period. I sob once and then suck back the sound, blinking away the blur of Garrett’s face before me. I force the pain inward, caging in my heart. I’m good at this. It’s who I am. My heart races within my chest as a lump clogs my throat. The old me is back, and she’s choking me inside.

“Let me help,” Garrett says, his head lowering to mine as if he’s going to kiss me.

“Don’t kiss me.” I don’t trust my emotions. His lips on mine will shatter me. I’ll be a wreck like the diner.

“What?” He freezes midway to my lips.

“Stop using sex to distract me.” My skin prickles with thoughts of him touching me, licking me, making love to me. Was it all a game?

Take me against this wall and make me believe it was real and not a dream.

I shake the thought.

“I am not using sex to distract you. Don’t make me into him.” His finger points in the general direction of my kitchen where Rusty and Griffin have mysteriously disappeared and not returned. “I want to connect with you. I need to be close to you.” His voice grows deeper with each word he speaks, sounding desperate and hurt and confused, which are all the ways I’m feeling.

Images flash in my head.

His mouth on mine. His hands in my hair. His body joined with mine. He’d look me in the eyes, and I could feel him peering into my soul, stealing my heart with his.

His heart. He said he didn’t have one, yet at every turn, there it was, or so I thought.

“I am not him,” Garrett growls, drawing me out of my memories. He’s right. He’s not. I thought he was so much more, and I was wrong.

“I need you to leave.” I eye the decimated room around us. I’m at a breaking point, and Garrett must sense the destruction within me because he backs away.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave,” he whispers like a petulant child not getting his way. I rack my brain for a retort—some promise he made me—but I come up short. He gave me everything, yet I took it all for more than it was.

The Wizard never assured Dorothy he’d take care of her, and Garrett has done the same thing to me.