“There’s been a…misread. Raiden read you were a man, but you’re not.” Hunter doesn’t beat around the bush here but saves my ass all the same. Misread is one step up from not read at all.
Georgiana’s eyes widen. “How could that happen? My cover letter explained I go by George.” Her groaned sigh fills the room. “Right now, that’s not my problem.”
She’s staring at me, grey eyes filled with thunderclouds.
“Yep, it isn’t exactly my problem either,” Hunter says. “I’ve got to check up on something with Basil in the storeroom and then I’m off to Uncle Bill’s to help him with his new software.” Hunter turns to his desk and takes his car keys, wallet, and phone from one of his desk drawers. “Welcome to Ashleigh Lake, George, apparently the most romantic town in Vermont.”
But I suppose that depends on who you’re asking. There’s no love lost here. That’s for sure. I finish Hunter’s sentence in my head because I can just imagine the thought zapping through his mind.
Georgiana smirks but her gaze doesn’t leave my flushed face and I feel my blush deepening under her frank stare.
I don’t want Hunter to go, but his stance tells me everything. You didn’t bother to read those résumés. You would’ve known George was a woman if you had. Here’s your bed. You made it. Now you can lie in it.
“Derek will lock up tonight, as he’s still busy with some reports, so feel free to wrap up your discussions here.” Hunter shoots me a final evil eye. “Hope to see you around, George.”
Just like that, Hunter is out of the office and the ballooning tension in the room immediately invades the gap he leaves. I stare at Georgiana, and she stares right back at me for a very long minute while I try to order my thoughts.
“Well, are you going to say something or what?”
To split scrambled eggs back into yolks and whites would be easier than to organize my thoughts right now, never mind voicing them.
“How did this happen? For the record, I’m not going back to Miami!”
Georgiana’s frown deepens as I still say nothing and only keep staring into her eyes. Over my dead body am I going to explain to her how this happened. To think her signature on that contract we signed gave nothing away. There were no loops, curves, or flowery scents that could have diverted me from this curve ball.
Hunter told me I should set up a call with George, that it would be the right thing to do…the polite thing to do. Hunter thought I’d read those résumés and knew George was a Georgiana, but idiot that I am, I left his HR department to deal with my intern and all the final arrangements without Hunter’s knowledge. I’ve been crushed under Cash’s workload and that was the perfect excuse to delay picking up the phone. Hell, I only arrived in Ashleigh Lake late Saturday night, and it’s been a rush to get everything ready for today.
I cup my hands to my mouth and breathe into them for a moment to calm down. I can’t keep on saying nothing. “Miss Wess—”
“George.”
Yes…about that. That G isn’t going to roll off my tongue soon. Not under these circumstances. I don’t even know what I’m doing here but I grab at straws—maybe if I’m a total dick she’ll leave all by herself. I don’t even know why I want her to leave, but I do…she is a distraction I can’t afford. “Miss Wess. You. Me. Working. Together. Not happening. Ever.” I pause after each word and can finally give a deep exhale of relief that I got all that out.
“Yeah? That’s all you have to say about this?”
I nod and it seems to take the wind out of her sails. She merely shakes her head as she leans against Hunter’s desk. She closes her eyes and doesn’t look up at me again. Instead, she folds her arms and mutters something that sounds like sexist verbally stunted idiot under her breath.
Those last words should sting but I let them wash off me. Sexist much? Right now, yep, sadly, but there’s method to my madness. I lean in to listen for more but only notice how her lashes throw shadows over her cheeks to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She’s traveled all day and with a pang I realize she has to be exhausted. So much for a warm Vermont welcome. I’m being the king of assholes right now. A sexist asshole on top of that too. Mom is turning in her grave.
I try to line up the words to make this somehow better, but—
“We have a contract,” she says with a strained voice. “I don’t know about backwater Vermont legislation, but where I come from that type of thing is binding.”
With all the sass she can muster, she’s going to play Miss Smarty Pants with me while I’m still scurrying around for words. She glances at me and shakes her head. “I’m going to go now to wherever you’ve put me up for the next six weeks and we can hack this out tomorrow morning. First thing.”
Fuck it. Not that too. Short of palming my whole face in my hand, there’s nothing I can do. There’s no way I can have this Miami beach babe in the boathouse. I let my eyes wander down her body, taking in the whole. I can’t pinpoint the telltale signs, but something about her screams money. I’m not sure if it’s the strappy sandals or the purse she’s clutching. Maybe it’s the combo. Either way, the boathouse isn’t exactly fit for this…classy Miami specimen who carries herself like she’s used to the Ritz. The boathouse is fit for a one-night stand maybe, with the type of woman you never intend to see again. That’s sure as far as the twins intended for it to stretch in the hospitality department.
Bar asking Aunt May to put up a stranger in the farmhouse, there’s no chance any other accommodation is available in town. Ashleigh Lake might be the most romantic spot in Vermont, but it’s also one of the most popular over the summer and schools closed weeks ago. I could search around for hours trying to find her an alternative spot to bunk tonight in town, but the closest we might get is a motel outside of Burlington. It will be a choice between one dump and another and this woman deserves better.
At that thought, the boathouse might be the most non-invasive way to nudge Georgiana Wess in the direction of the Burlington airport tomorrow. After one night in the boathouse, she might fly out willingly.
I smirk. “Go there, we will.” With a nudge of my head, I’m out of Hunter’s office and listen to hear if she follows me. Thank God Britt’s desk is deserted and some of the office lights are already switched off. Down the other corridor I can see light pouring from my cousin Derek Brodie’s office, and I hasten my steps to the stairs. No way I’m going to bro-talk with him now and introduce Georgiana Wess. In my bones, I can already feel my dilemma buzzing through the town’s grapevine as Brittany Cochran trips over her feet to spread the news that George Wess, hired to help Raiden Logan with his tiny house build, is a woman.
Equality in the workplace is all Big City, but hell, if anybody would know how small Ashleigh Lake is, it would be me. I fled to Boston for a reason. Word is probably already going round that Raiden Logan is still the dumbass idiot he was thirteen years ago. He hired her eyes wide open.
Yep, best get George out of town sight unseen. The last thing I want to be again is that moron the townsfolk sneer at behind his back.
At the bottom of the stairs, I wait for her to catch up. As I take in her skinny jeans that only accentuate her toned legs, it becomes clear I’ll have to make some adjustments to dinner too. Steak, beer, and a bag of Doritos isn’t going to cut it, that’s for sure. I’ll have to stop at Al’s Grocer for some salad. Maybe some wine. She doesn’t look like a beer chugger. And after this warm welcome, she might need some liquor.