But still no Georgia. Where is she?
Frustrated, I log on to the challenge portal. Although it wrapped earlier this week, we’ve still got access. I pull up the photo of Oliver in the Viking helmet and send it to Cookie. “I missed you tonight.”
And then I see her tiny, winged form in the distance. She’s walking on the other side of the park, illuminated by the light of her cell phone. The green wings of her costume, bobbing in the night, look ethereal, like a firefly or a spirit.
This is it. She’ll be here any moment. I’m doing this.
Except she isn’t coming this way.
Georgia pauses, presumably pressing something, and the light on her phone goes out. I can barely track her progress as she continues across the park, heading toward a dark alley between two buildings. The parking lot. She must be headed to her car.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would she be coming to the store at this hour? She was just headed here to fetch her car so she could go home.
She hasn’t seen me sitting here in the shadows. She’s walking at a pretty fast clip, and she isn’t looking back. Cookie is trotting along beside her.
I have to catch them before she drives away!
Leaping to my feet, I jog after her. Fortunately, I’m wearing my trainers under the faux lace-up boots of the Viking costume. The leggings and muslin shirt are quite comfortable. And the fur vest has done a fine job of keeping me warm.
There’s no time or space to shove my helmet in the paper bag, so I just run with it on. It’s surprisingly well balanced. Perfect for battle, I muse.
She’s halfway through the alley by the time I catch up to her.
“Wait! Georgia!” I call out her name. She freezes, crouches, and pivots to face me. There’s no time to read her expression before she punches me. Hard. Square in the jaw.
georgia
Because my handis curled into the perfect fist—thumb outside, fingers straight—it really doesn’t hurt too bad when my knuckles slam into Hudson Holm’s jaw. His Viking hat hits the brick wall beside us and goes clattering to the pavement.
Cookie barks and whines.
“Hudson!” I gasp. “Oh my God! What? What are you doing here?”
“I probably had that coming, sneaking up on you like that.” He bends to retrieve the helmet and leans against the wall, gingerly stroking his jaw.
I’d heard him running behind me in the alley and hadn’t stopped to look back. Operating purely on instinct, I’d attacked.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I want to touch him, to see if he’s bleeding. I want to … Holy hell. He’s wearing the costume, and dammit, he looks incredible, even in the dim light of this back alley.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Better than fine now. I’ve been looking for you all night.”
“You have?” I ask. “Why?” I’m genuinely confused. Shouldn’t he be with Ashley right now? Snapping photos and commemorating the moment?
“Because I wanted to talk to you, Georgia. I have things to say to you.”
“Say them, then,” I say, sticking out my chin. I jerk Cookie’s chain, forcing her to heel. I can tell she’s dying to lick Hudson, and she can get in line. If I can’t drool on him, neither can she.
“Not here,” he says, attempting to wipe away the blood that’s starting to drip from the small cut my punch left behind.
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” I say. “I’m sorry, Hudson. But you really shouldn’t—”
“Sneak up on a woman in a dark alley? Yeah. My bad. I’ll live. But do you think maybe we can go somewhere else to talk? Preferably somewhere with a sink and a first aid kit so I can take care of this first? I don’t have a car, and it’s a long walk back to the lofts.”
“Fine.” I exhale. “Just come back to my place with me. I’ll clean you up.”
“Thank you, Georgia,” he says, and the sound of his voice laps over me like waves on the shore.
“You might want to take off the helmet,” I say when we get to the unicorn. “Unless you plan to impale the roof of my car.”
