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Which, at the moment, is fixing her door.
I nod. Sage advice.
I’ll be starting at an architecture firm here in Edinburgh in three weeks. After bartending and doing odd jobs around Europe for eighteen months, I’m home. I missed my brothers, truth be told. We’re tight.
I wish I was starting the job sooner, but until then I’ll keep my mind and hands occupied because Finn and Knox tell me I’m moody. I prefer broody. It’s the name given to me by one girl I dated for the longest three days in history. She was into talking, and I’m not.
“What’s your story, Lachlan?” Georgia catches me off guard.
“No story.” I’m screwing in a new latch on the door, having replaced the keypad.
“Come on now, everyone has a story.”
I catch her smile. It floods me with light and heat, and my heart beats faster.
I do my usual deflection. “What’s your story, Georgia Henry?”
She pauses, and different emotions flash across her lovely face. I awoke this morning to a disheveled Georgia carrying my sandwich and a cup of tea. What surprised me is I’ve never slept that well or that long as I did with Georgia in my arms. Stunned the shit out of me. I wasn’t pissed that Finn had apparently had her by the scent of her, her pink cheeks, and mussed hair. It’s not like I can call pot, kettle, or anything. Finn and Knox have shared women in the past. It hadn’t been my thing until Georgia exploded into my world on a starburst.
“Born and bred in Texas to Jason and Ana. As you know, Dad was a minor league baseball player and we shifted a lot. Never got to put down roots. I’ve an older brother named Colt. Middle name Presley. Nothing remarkable. My parents still tease each other when they think we’re not looking and make out. I’ve always liked numbers, so it was natural to go into accounting. Not the sexiest of fields, but I love it.”
Her chocolate eyes dance.
“Boyfriends?”
The light in her eyes dies, and she fiddles with her earring. “No. And I quote: ‘Not girly enough, too tall, says weird shit, and into numbers.’”
“Same. Can’t help height. I read architectural magazines, and say as little as possible.” It tumbles out of my mouth before I can reset.
She tilts her head. “You’re gorgeous and mysterious, and I think a lot is going on behind the scenes, so to speak.”
I shrug and throw my tools into the dented metal box that used to be my father’s. I’ve been given new boxes, but I’ve hung onto this one. It’s not as if he’ll waltz back into my life like a Hallmark movie. I inherited my love of fixing things from him. Things he used to show me when I was a kid.
“Lachlan, what are you thinking about? Your face tells a thousand stories but I just can’t seem to read them.”
I’m surprised and look at her. No one really takes the time to listen or look at me, really look at me. They see the supposedly pretty face, but not the man behind it.
“I was thinking of me Da. He taught me DIY when I was a kid.”
“Where are your parents?”
Her soft jasmine scent is like a truth serum. One I can’t resist.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “They bailed out on us when I was twelve. We never saw them again.”
Fuck. Why does it still hurt like a slug to the chest?
“It’s been fourteen years, and the pain from coming home and Knox telling me they’d split crushed a part of me that day. I adored them. My Ma’s Lily of the Valley scent. Her always open arms. My Da carried me around on his back, teaching me how to solder iron. I thought they had the perfect marriage. I always had the feeling of being totally and utterly loved, until I wasn’t. Until I wasn’t enough.”
Jesus. Fuck. I need to stop talking.
“Oh, baby.” Georgia is off the chair and has enveloped me in her arms. She kisses my cold cheeks.
Something familiar stirs in my chest.
Shit.
I don’t want to catch feelings. They hurt too much. I try to tamp them down but when they rise up, the black demon comes as part of the package, and it hurts too fucking much.
