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“Nobody else looks like Juliet,” Isa argued back. “I’m sure it was her. You’ll have to run after her, she could be headed back home by now.”
Okay, Georgina couldn’t resist standing up to see who they were talking about. But like Isa, there was no way that she could see above the crowds of people.
“There she is! In the doorway.” Isa pointed.
“I see her.” Cleo took off.
“Here, come up with me,” Isa said, gesturing at Georgina to get up on the chair with her. “We have to keep an eye on her in case she tries to leave again.”
There wasn’t any way she was getting up on that chair. It was unsafe with just one person on it.
Suddenly, Isa grabbed her arm and practically hauled her up onto the chair. Shoot, she was strong for someone so small. Georgina wobbled and Isa wrapped an arm around her.
“There she is. That’s Juliet. Shit, she can’t see Cleo.”
Georgina squinted, trying to figure out who Juliet was. There were a few women standing close to the door. And then she spotted where Isa was pointing.
There was a very slight woman standing nervously in the doorway. She was dressed all in black and her brown hair was pulled back in a braid that hung over her shoulder. The poor thing looked so nervous that Georgina felt bad for her.
Juliet stepped back, nearly walking right out the door. “Oh shitballs, grab her, Cleo,” Isa muttered, bouncing up and down slightly. The chair under them wobbled and Georgina gasped.
They were going to fall.
But Isa settled down with a sigh of relief. “Cleo has her.”
Georgina looked over to see that Cleo had wrapped her arm around the nervous girl and was leading her back towards them. Juliet had her hand twisted in Cleo’s top.
Isa jumped down and Georgina wobbled at the sudden loss. “Oh.”
Shit! She was going down! How the heck was she going to explain to her mother that she’d injured herself while standing on a chair in a bar?
“Whoa there, sweetheart. Watch out.” A large arm wrapped around her middle and lifted her down off the stool, setting her on the floor.
She stiffened, waiting for him to press close to her, to try and make some move or grope her. But the owner of the arm respectfully stepped away.
“There you go.”
She turned to look at her rescuer and stared up into a pair of twinkling, hazel-colored eyes. The owner of those eyes was lean and tall with a weathered face and a short, well-kept beard. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Although I would like to point out that I bought those chairs with the idea that people would sit in them not stand on them.”
She blushed at the gentle scolding. How mortifying to be told off like that? At thirty-four! What he must think of her.
Wait.
“Your chairs?”
“Yep. Noah O’Ryan.” He held out his hand and she shook it. He had a good grip, not too firm, not too limp. His hands were lightly calloused. “I own the Wishing Well.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, uhh, if I did anything . . .” Shoot. Why couldn’t she get her words out? Why did she have to be so socially awkward?
“No harm, no foul. Just no more standing on chairs, okay? I don’t need anyone hurting themselves on my watch. That understood, Isa?” His face grew sterner as he looked over at the blonde woman, who stood behind Georgina.
“Hey, what makes you think I had anything to do with this?” Isa protested.
Noah just raised an eyebrow. She’d always been envious of people who could do that. Her brother, Gareth, could. He thought it made him sexier. He was her brother, so, you know, gross. But she couldn’t deny that Noah looked sexy.
