13.2
I shove that thought aside as I go out to the large deck that wraps around the upstairs bedrooms on the side of the house. The deck is one of my favorite things about the ranch house. During the day, you can see for miles out across the meadows to the rolling hills in every direction. In the winter, when the countryside is blanketed by untouched snow, the reflection of the sunlight is so bright it’s practically blinding. And it’s quiet out here when it’s not being overrun by children and camp counselors. I could sit on this deck for hours just immersing myself in the stillness of the place.
But tonight, instead of soaking up the quiet – because even though the kids are heading to their tents for the night, they’re not exactly church mice – I flip through my phone, responding to personal emails and text messages. I generally try to avoid the social media bullshit like the plague not only because I suck at it, but also because when you’re a professional football player everyone has a damn opinion about your plays
and your performance last s’eason and what you’re going to do next season, and the wager on where you’re going next year. Listening to all that crap, all those opinions that become voices in your head, is enough to make you crazy.
That’s especially true right now when I’m trying to figure out what the hell I want to do when it comes to my entire career.
“Nathaniel?” Georgina’s voice breaks through my thoughts as she steps out onto the balcony from the guest bedroom. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a thin grey pullover with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The outfit makes her look more like a college undergraduate than the head of a foundation.
“What’s up?” I pull myself out of my Adirondack chair, trying to look casual and not like I’m jumping up like a damn puppy dog at the sight of her.
“What’s up?” Fucking A, Nathaniel. You’re not a teenager. Try sounding slightly more intelligent.
“Uh… hey,” I say. Damn it. That might be even worse. You told her you wanted to lick chocolate sauce off her naked body, but you can't muster anything better than “Hey, what's up?”
She pauses when she reaches me then quickly breaks eye contact and turns away to look out at the horizon. “The stars are so bright up here. It’s amazing. You forget about that in the city.”
“Yeah. It’s one of the things I love about being out here.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice you had a telescope,” Georgina says, walking over to it. “A Celestron. Nice.”
“You know your telescopes?” I ask, watching her bend toward the eyepiece.
Focus. Don’t get distracted by her ass.
Her perfect ass.
Her curvy ass.
The ass that fit so well in my hands.
“Oh, yeah. My dad is an astronomy buff. When I was a kid, we used to go outside at night and he’d teach me all of the constellations. Then when he was traveling, he’d call and tell me what the sky looked like where he was, what constellations he could see.”
“That’s cool.”
That’s cool. Nope, I’m not doing any better at not sounding like an adolescent boy.
“I didn’t have as nice of a telescope as this, though, that’s for sure,” she notes.
“The White House doesn’t have a telescope?”
“Well, I stayed in Colorado when my dad got elected President, so I haven’t lived at the White House. I’ve only visited,” Georgina notes. “I can’t remember there being one, but my dad has hosted astronomy nights on the south lawn for the past three years.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
She laughs. “He gets really excited about them. I flew in for the first one they put on. It’s all these kids – little geniuses who are way smarter than me – running around mixing with scientists and astronomers. They’re all so thrilled to be at the White House and meeting the President, but what they don’t know is that my dad completely geeks out about it himself. The morning after the first astronomy night, he spent the entire time during breakfast talking about it.”
“Are you and your dad close?”
She smiles, but I can tell right away she’s giving me her media smile. “Of course. My parents are both wonderful people who have always been devoted to me.”
“That sounds like the most bullshit press statement ever.”
She bends over and looks through the telescope again, momentarily silent, before she turns, her eyes searching mine. “You wouldn’t be trying to get me to say something bad about my family, would you?”
“What? No. Shit. Is that what you think? That I’m fishing for dirt?” I’m so blindsided by the question that I don’t know whether to be shocked or offended.
Her brow furrows before she relaxes. “No, I don’t.”
“I guess you probably get that a lot – people who have another agenda for getting close to you.”
She exhales heavily. “Of course you would understand that,” she says, her expression softening. “I forget that you’re in the public light as much, if not more, than I am. I… don’t have many friends. Not close ones. So I’m not all that great at talking about myself.”
“You should be great at it, with all of the interviews you have to do,” I tease.
“I think the same could be said of you.”
“Well, I’m not digging for dirt on your family,” I tell her. “Just so you know. And I’m not great at small talk either.”
“Okay, fine,” she declares with a smile. “Then we won’t do small talk.”
“So what’s the opposite of small talk?” I ask.
Getting naked. The opposite of small talk is getting naked.
“Super deep talk?” she jokes back.
No. It’s getting naked.
“Is this where we talk about the meaning of life or some philosophical bullshit?”
Georgina wrinkles her nose. “Ew. No.”
“Well, no small talk was your idea, sweetheart.” Damn, that last word sounded way too… normal leaving my mouth. When I called her sweetheart before, it was sarcastic, totally meant to push her buttons and wind her up. Right now, it just rolled off the tongue like I’ve said it a hundred times.
“Okay. Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
“Is that how we’re going to play this? You accuse me of prying for dirt on your family, but ask me to reveal all of my secrets?” I raise my eyebrows. "That's a bold move."
“Fine. You can ask me mine,” she says, laughing.
“I already know yours.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “All right, I want to hear this. What dirty secret of mine have you dug up?”
“I didn’t have to dig. It’s written all over you."
"What is?"
"The fact that you totally want me.”
“Well, that is a dirty secret.”
“I was hoping it could be.”
Her face flushes red, but she laughs. “You’re avoiding the question. Unless you want to go back to small talk.”
“I was hoping no small talk meant we could pick up where we left off last time."
"Nathaniel, I –"
I cut her off because I don't want to hear her say what I suspect she was trying to say before – that she's attracted to me and Adriano. “Okay, I’ll show you my dirtiest secret.”
“Are you about to show me your dick?”
“That is not my dirty secret, contrary to what Adriano might have you believe. The prescription cream thing was not true, you know.”
Georgina laughs. “Yes, I assumed that much.”
“Also, my dick wouldn’t be a dirty secret, either, because I’m pretty proud of it."
She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, are you?"
"Yeah. I'll take it out if you want to see why I'm proud."
Georgina laughs. “Come on. Out with it – the secret, not the dick.”
“I’ll show you, if you swear not to laugh.”
She makes a solemn face and holds up her right hand. “On my grave.”
“I think you’re supposed to swear on the grave of someone who’s already died.”
“You’re avoiding the original question.”
“You have to promise not to tell anyone. Do I need to go get a non-disclosure agreement?”
“You can. Or I can pinky swear not to tell a soul.”
I gasp dramatically. “That’s the most sacred of swears, you know.”
“I know.”
When she links her pinkie with mine, a twinge of arousal rushes through me and I consider yanking her against me and finishing what I started earlier. Instead, I sigh loudly. “Fine. Come with me.”
