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Until she got tired of his bullshit.
She’d neverwantedto lean against Henry.
Ever.
“You okay?” Reed asked, rubbing his shoulder against hers and giving her a crooked smile.
Her heart ached so she set the plate down. “Fine. You know, I haven’t seen either Claire or MC.”
“I saw Claire with Tyler earlier.”
Tyler Holly? Georgia lifted her eyebrows.
“What?”
“Do you think Claire’s into Tyler?” she asked.
“Maybe. Would that be odd? He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah. Well, no. It’s just Claire and Tyler don’t seem to go together.”
“Like Mary Catherine and Brad do?”
Georgia snorted. “So I’m not the only one who can see where this marriage is heading?”
“Either divorce or Mary Catherine in the clinic getting cured off the Wild Turkey?”
“You’ve been watchingChristmas Vacation, but, yeah, I’m worried about her.”
“Nothing you can do, baby.”
Her heart swelled again. He called her baby. Not like she was a hookup, but like he cared about her. It was effing kryptonite. He had to stop. Had to. Before she fell—
“I need another beer,” she barked, striking her thoughts and refusing to feel something stupid. She’d been here a week and already she was mooning over a cowboy. Or a vet. Or whatever he was.
Had to stop.
“Sure. What do you want?”
“Whatever you grab.” No. That was leaving things up to him. “A Bud Light.”
“Sure,” he said, setting his plate beside her on the low wall of the courtyard. He walked away, his stride smooth despite a small hitch that was both sexy and endearing. She watched him cross the courtyard, saw several ladies follow his progress from the corners of their eyes. Saw Wren Guthrie break away from a gaggle of twentysomethings and trail behind him.
That little bitch. She obviously wanted to have every hair ripped out of her head.
Georgia unclenched her hands, tamping down the illogical jealousy over Wren’s ploy to pin the vet against the metal tub of beer.
She had no claim on Reed. They were messing around with messing around. So if the dress shop owner wanted to go after him, Wren had every right. In fact, she had more of a right. She actually lived in Shelby County.
But still.
“What’s up?” Mary Catherine asked, sinking down beside her. “How’s the date going?”
“It’s going... fine.”
Mary Catherine pushed back her pretty hair and studied Reed as he lifted two beers and smiled at Wren. “Then why do you look like you want to stomp poor Wren into a mudhole?”
“Wren can hit on whoever she wants. She’s a grown woman with big jugs and a crackerjack smile. And why would I care? Reed’s a little lamb, remember? He’d be escaping my clutches.”
