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“New froggie,” Nate said, carefully setting old froggie on one of the kitchen chairs.
“Got your bag?” Eric asked.
“Right here.” Georgia thrust the child-size backpack into his hand, careful not to touch his skin.
“Thanks. I’ll stop back after I drop him off, and then we’ll talk.”
Georgia shook her head, pressing her lips together. “Eric, you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Eric led Nate to the car and buckled him into his car seat. The minute they pulled onto the road, Nate started talking, sharing every thought that popped into his head. Eric tried his best to follow along and comment when necessary. Over the past few months, Eric had learned that life with a three-year-old was one endless monologue.
Once they’d parked and unloaded, Eric took his nephew’s hand and headed for the door. “Ready for your first day of school, buddy?”
Nate stopped and looked up at him, his expression too damn serious for such a little kid. “Is my mommy watching?”
Eric pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before crouching beside his nephew. In the first six months after the accident, he’d told Nate that his mother and father would always be watching. He’d thought it would help him cope, not that he knew shit about how a toddler dealt with losing both parents. “Yeah, buddy. She’s watching. Your dad too.”
Nate nodded, his solemn expression vanishing in an instant, replaced by a smile. “I’m ready.”
Twenty minutes later, after his nephew was settled into his new classroom and happily playing trains with another kid, Eric drove out of the school parking lot and headed for home.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what Liam had said. Georgia had looked “off” last night, ready to seek out a new thrill. Liam’s words confirmed what Eric had been thinking—Georgia hadn’t wanted him, just another rush.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Last night was wrong on many levels, but he sure as hell had wanted Georgia. If anyone else had pulled that stunt, he would have walked away.
He shook his head as he turned into the driveway. Georgia was an emotional mess. Liam was right on that front. And the fact that she turned him inside out with need didn’t matter.
Eric pulled into the garage, turned off his truck, and headed for the kitchen. The smell greeted him at the door. Bacon. He followed it inside, stopping to remove him boots. He should probably take a shower first, but his stomach objected, especially when he saw the spread Georgia had laid out on the table—fried eggs, the yolks runny just like he liked them, buttered toast, hot coffee, and a whole pile of God’s gift to hungry men everywhere, bacon.
But all the bacon in the world couldn’t change the fact he had to tell the woman he was dying to get his hands on that last night couldn’t happen again.
Chapter Three
“SMELLS GOOD IN here,” Eric said, hovering in the kitchen doorway.
Georgia stood by the fridge, pouring a cup of juice. She appeared calm and in control, nothing “off” about her. Maybe she’d gotten it all out of her system. That thought—it should have led to relief, but it didn’t.
“Sit and dig in,” she said. “I know you haven’t eaten anything since what? Lunch yesterday?”
“I had a donut last night.” Sometime after he’d caught an hour’s sleep and woken up aching for her.
He pulled a chair out from the table and sank into it. It felt good to sit after cutting down trees all night. He piled his plate high and picked up his fork. Georgia claimed the seat across from him. Quietly sipping her coffee, she watched him eat. Three bites in, he paused, knowing he had to do
this now. He had to set things straight between them. “About last night—”
“We don’t need to have this conversation. It won’t happen again.”
“It can’t,” he said. “I’m your boss, your friend, and Liam’s friend. And Georgia, that’s where we need to draw the line.”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to explain.”
“After what we did, believe me, I do. If we start something and Liam found out . . .” Eric shook his head.
“Liam’s my brother. Not my father or my keeper.”
Eric looked her straight in the eye. He had to make her understand. He had to do this right. But he didn’t want to hurt her. “He’s my friend. He trusts me, believes I’ll never take advantage, never touch you.”
