Colby set his chin on her shoulder. “Got anything good?”
“Huh?” she said, completely distracted by the thing in her hands.
“The package.”
“Oh, right.” She tossed the box onto the table by the front door like it was on fire. “Just some legal stuff from Leesha.”
“Sounds like loads of fun.” Colby spun her around in his arms and smiled down at her all sleep-mussed and sexy. He gave her a soft kiss. “Want to grab a late breakfast with us? I know a good pancake place.”
“Mmm, pancakes.” Keats sidled up behind her and nipped at her neck. “Or maybe we can just pour some syrup on you.”
She closed her eyes and sighed into their touch. Being between them felt so good, so right. Last night they’d celebrated Colby getting his job back. They’d all been on such a high. Everything had seemed so bright and hopeful. But now with the arrival of the letters, it felt like a storm cloud had moved over her. Real life was knocking at her door. She slipped out of their hold.
“I’d love to, but I can’t today, guys. I’m behind on work and need a day in a quiet house to catch up. Y’all should go without me.”
Colby’s gaze caught hers, evaluating, but she must’ve hidden her feelings well enough because he gave her a quick nod and a smile. “Got it. You need a break.”
“It’s not—”
Keats put his fingers against her mouth. “Say no more, George. It’s been a busy few days, and we’ve kept you from work a lot. I actually need to get some things done, too. I got a message this morning from Colby’s friend Pike. He’s going to help me cut a demo.”
She gave a genuine smile at that. “That’s fantastic.”
“Yep. But that means I need to get my shit together, decide which songs I want to record, and polish them up.”
“And I need to drive out to The Ranch later to talk to Grant about my trainer schedule. Once I go full time at school, I’m not going to be able to do much out there.”
Georgia nodded. “Then I guess I don’t need to feel guilty for skipping out if we all have big to-do lists.”
Colby tugged one of her curls. “Never feel guilty for that, beautiful. There are three of us in this relationship. That can be intense. None of us should feel bad when we need to do our own thing or be alone.”
“Thanks.” But the words fell heavy on her. Relationship. Us. The ache in her chest spread wide. Part of her so wanted those words to be real. But she couldn’t let herself forget that this was temporary. Next week was Thanksgiving. She only had a little more than a month left before she was supposed to head back to Chicago. She gave the two guys a weak smile. “Now get out of here, both of you. I’m a busy, important woman.”
Colby and Keats laughed, and each leaned in for a quick kiss before they grabbed their things to head out. It all felt so domestic and comfortable.
But she couldn’t let herself latch onto that feeling, that comfort. This was not her life. This was her temporary fantasy.
She peered over at the box of letters and inhaled a long breath. Time to remember why she was here in the first place.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Georgia sat on the floor in her living room, letters fanned out around her as she went through the pile Leesha had reluctantly sent her. Her skin chilled as she read each line of the sick love notes Phillip had penned. On the surface, they sounded sweet and romantic—words from a man deeply in love. But Georgia could read the threats tucked between the lines.
No one else can ever love you like I do.
Fate wants us to be together.
I don’t go an hour without thinking of your face.
I won’t let what’s happened get in the way of our love.
She wanted to claw at the words, rip them into shreds, and toss them into the fireplace. But she forced herself to go through each one, trying to find something she could use in court. Surely, people would see that a sane man wouldn’t write a woman a letter every two days when she wasn’t returning them, right? But maybe some would see it as wildly romantic instead of wildly aggressive—a Valentine’s Day movie in the making.
Blech.
She’d learned that she liked her men without all that gloss on them. Colby and Keats didn’t need to write her letters or send her flowers. They didn’t need any flash. Every day they showed her they cared just by being themselves—the little kindnesses, the teasing jokes, and the way they made her feel when she curled up between them.
Being with both of them was . . . overwhelming and intense and sexy and perfect. But the day they’d come back from Keats’s father’s house, something had changed. Instead of just thinking about what fun they were having, she’d found herself entertaining what it would be like if this were something real, if she came back after the trial and tried to live this life with the two of them.
She’d fallen for them hard and fast.