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“Coming,” he shouted, pulling on the crumpled pair of jeans he’d tossed on the chair earlier, accidently knocking over the empty beer bottle when he turned on the lamp in the living room. “Ah, damn it.”
He tugged on his shirt, not worrying with buttoning it. He righted the bottle and padded toward the door, stopping at the window to check who might be standing under his porch light.
Georgia.
The sight of the woman standing in a pair of sweats staring anxiously at the closed door was a punch to the heart.
He pulled the door open. “Georgia?”
“Hey,” she said, biting her lower lip. Mascara was smeared beneath her eyes as if she’d been crying or had done a poor job of makeup removal.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not ready to invite her in. His pride still smarted from her earlier rejection.
“Not really,” she said, thumbing the button on the top of the suitcase handle. “But I prayed all the way over here that I can make things okay.”
“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I planned on skipping the wedding.”
“About that,” she said, swallowing. “Uh, do you think I can come inside? It’s getting cooler out here. A front’s coming in.” Her gaze slid down his torso, at the spot where his bare chest gaped through the split in his shirt. “If you don’t mind?”
Don’t mind? He wanted to scoop her up, toss her over his shoulder, and take her to bed... even if she had thrown his love back at him. “Sure, come on in.”
Reed closed the front door and motioned to the living room, where three more empty beer bottles sat on the coffee table. So he’d drowned his sorrows a little? A bruised ego demanded good beer and a cheeseburger from Tumbleweeds.
Georgia rolled her suitcase to the couch but didn’t sit down. Instead she stood, head down, gaze at his bare feet.
Reed waited across from her, seconds ticking by, for an explanation for why she’d shown up after having already said goodbye.
Finally, she sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him. “I was wrong.”
He waited for clarification, but she didn’t expound. “Okay, wrong about what?”
Georgia’s chin trembled. He’d never expected that particular vulnerability from the tough-as-rawhide Hightower. “About everything.”
“About the town?”
“Yeah. And you. And me. And... everything.” She bit her lip again, drawing attention to her pretty mouth and sooty, damp lashes. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry for being a bitch and that I want to stay.”
“With me tonight?” he asked, wanting to reach for her but holding back because he needed to understand exactly what she meant.
She nodded.
And disappointment flooded him. He’d hoped—
“And, like, forever.”
“Forever?”
Georgia shrugged. “Well, if not forever, then a long, long time?”
“You’re planning on staying in Texas?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say.”
“Oh.”
“Ask me again.”
He tilted his head. “Ask you what?”
