Guarding Georgia

Georgia Westbury was the one girl I could never have, but the only one I ever wanted. The rickety train track that divided our town wasn’t the only difference between us. She was sweet, innocent, and rich while I was nothing but a dirty delinquent.

I just needed a chance to show her how good we’d be together, but when she laughed in my face I finally gave her what she wanted… I left her alone.

Until she needed my filthy hands to save her.

And one touch was all it took to change everything we thought we knew.

CHAPTER 1

Beau

Flicking the switch to engage my blue lights, I pulled over behind the vehicle and shined my spotlight toward the rear end. My boots stirred up the dirt and gravel as I stepped out. “Evenin’.” I made my way closer, hand on my service weapon, and as her shadowed figure became clearer, I asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Oh my God. Beau…”

I stopped dead in my tracks, immediately regretting my decision to help and wishing I’d taken the long way home. My shoulders slumped and my hands fell to my thighs in tight fists because the woman standing before me was the last person I wanted to see. Or the only one. I wasn’t sure which because I wasn’t prepared. Hell, even if I knew she was back in town, nothing could have prepared me for being face-to-face with her again.

Georgia Westbury was the girl of my dreams and simultaneously the star of my nightmares. The woman who killed my soul, yet the only one who could resurrect me.
She shuffled closer, and I took the opportunity to scan her from head to toe. It struck me that she didn’t look as good as the last time I saw her before she skipped town ten years ago. No… she was somehow even more beautiful.

And all grown up. Her hair was still blond and wavy, but it stopped just past her shoulders instead of flowing down to her curvy ass. Her brows were darker, and the bold eyeliner she used to wear was nonexistent. I dug my heels deeper so I wouldn’t take a step to discover if her eyes were still blue like the ocean.

She never believed me when I told her how pretty she was without makeup. I once caught her trying to apply mascara before I woke up, and needless to say, she needed a new tube since I threw that one in the toilet and then showed her exactly how gorgeous I thought she was. She almost always wore Chucks with jean shorts and a tank top with a flannel tied around her waist, because even in Texas, she got cold all the time. And that hadn’t changed. Neither had the fact that her long, lean legs went up to her throat… a place I knew intimately because she loved it when my lips lingered at the sensitive skin there. Her thighs were thicker but toned and muscular, and it was on the tip of my tongue to demand she turn around so I could see her from behind.

But that would have given her the idea that I was still attracted to her, and I couldn’t have that. I had to use every single part of my training to pretend I wasn’t affected by her after all these years. So I widened my stance and crossed my arms, unconsciously protecting myself from the hurt only she could cause. “Georgia.”

“You’re a, uh, cop now?”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. “What’s wrong with your car?”

She swallowed nervously as I rejected her attempt at small talk and took a step closer, her features illuminated from my headlights as they shone on her. “I don’t know. I’ve been driving for sixteen hours straight, and it was fine this whole time, but it just kind of sputtered. So I pulled over. There’s no signal on my phone, and I—”

“Let me have a look, see if I can figure it out. You know how good my filthy hands are with cars, after all.”

Her face was guarded but it fell when I reminded her of the insults she used to throw at me when she despised me. Our history was complicated, but I still remembered it like it was yesterday. “Be—”

Lifting a hand, I cut her off. “That was out of line. It won’t happen again.” I left her no choice, and she moved aside when I walked around her, huffing at the fact that she was driving a Mercedes. Figures. Nothing but the best for Georgia Westbury or, at least, the most expensive.

I yanked the door handle on her white coupe, noting the same nostalgic scent of strawberries that filled the interior. The keys were still in the ignition, and as soon as I twisted them, I knew what the problem was. I pulled the keys out, grabbed her pink leather purse from the front seat, then slammed the door.

She stood expectantly, wringing her fingers, of which I noted was absent a wedding ring. I dropped the keys in her bag, pressed the purse against her chest, and then motioned to my city-issued Explorer. “Come on, I’ll drive you to the Texaco.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“You’re out of gas.”

If I wasn’t so damn shocked from seeing her, I might have seen it coming. But because she had me so twisted up, I didn’t notice her eyes getting wet. All I caught was her lips trembling and her covering her face as she let out a wail and began sobbing.

What in the hell…? “Georgia, it’s just gas. We’ll run up to the Texaco and—”

“It’s not the gas!” she cried and stomped her feet, and I was surprised when the dirt staining her tennis shoes didn’t seem to faze her.

As much fun as this was, I didn’t have time for this shit. Whatever crisis she was going through was not my responsibility. Ten years ago? Definitely. I’d have done whatever I could to get her to stop crying. Hell, I’d have done anything for her, but not anymore. I just wanted to get her some fuel and get her on her way so I could go home and get so drunk I forgot all about her. “I’ll, uh… just go and be right back then.”

“No!” Squaring her shoulders, she wiped her face, smearing the tears and dust to cause dirty streaks on her cheeks. “I’ll go with. I don’t want to be here alone any longer than I already have been.”

“Fine.” Motioning to my vehicle again, I walked around to the passenger side, then opened the door for her because apparently old habits died hard.

“Thanks.” She smiled feebly and ducked her head, the light from the interior shining on her hair, the blond streaks shimmering like tinsel.

Once she settled into the seat, I closed her door and went around to my side and climbed up. After turning the flashing lights off, I pulled onto the two-lane highway and drove north. It was about seven miles to the gas station, and I wasn’t even halfway there when she started talking.
“Thank you. For this. I don’t know how I ran out of gas. I guess I was just too tired and didn’t notice.”

“No need to thank me. It’s my job.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess it is.” I glanced over at her to find her staring straight ahead, her plump lips pressed together and her silhouette was so achingly familiar. If I hadn’t physically gone ten tears without her, I’d swear it was just yesterday that she was in the exact place she was now. She turned to me, and I diverted my attention back to the road. “How long have you been—”

“Let’s not do this.” I interrupted, not wanting to go there with her. “I don’t want to do the small talk bullshit. Let’s not pretend you give a crap about me and that there’s not a ton of bad history between us, okay? Hopefully, once I get you back to your car, I won’t see you again for however long you’re here. And I’m sure you hope the same.”