Page 21 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

We ate while the restaurant moved around us. The lunch crowd hadn’t filled the room yet, but enough tables were occupied to create a steady hum of conversation beneath the music. Warm cider steamed in Georgia’s mug, carrying cinnamon and apple across the table each time she lifted it.

Her phone lay beside her plate, and neither of us had forgotten Meredith. Georgia touched the edge of it with one finger.

“I should send the message. I don’t want it to sound like I’m accusing her of anything.”

“Then don’t mention evidence or questions she has to answer. Tell her who you are, why her name came up, and ask whether she’s willing to talk.”

Georgia read my face for a moment. “You really think it should come from me.”

“I do. If I contact her as a bondsman who chased Gavin, the first thing she may feel is pressure. You’re his sister. Whatever she remembers, you’re the one who has lived with him being gone.”

She looked down at the phone. “Okay.” Her thumbs moved.

She read the finished message once, changed a word, then turned the screen toward me.

GEORGIA: Hi, Meredith. This is Georgia Dean, Gavin’s sister. I know this is unexpected, but I found your name while going through some old records connected to the night Brad died, and I remembered that Gavin had talked about you before then. I’m not trying to put you on the spot. If you’re willing, I’d really like to talk.

I read it carefully. “It’s good. Don’t say more until she answers.”

Georgia stared at the message another second, then sent it. The small delivered marker appeared beneath the text, and she set the phone facedown.

“That feels completely inadequate.”

“It probably is.” Her eyes came up, and I took another bite of my sandwich before continuing. “Seven years doesn’t fit into a text message. That doesn’t mean the text has to.”

Georgia relaxed slightly. “That was almost wise.”

“I have moments. Usually after breakfast.”

She smiled and finally went back to eating.

The afternoon passed in a way I hadn’t expected.

We should have left once Georgia fixed the immediate event problems. Instead, I found myself carrying another stack of glassware to the service station because the path still needed to be clear. Then I helped Case move a high-top. Then Georgia checked how the room flowed with the appetizer station in its new position, and somehow I was still there an hour later.

She never asked me to stay; I simply didn’t leave.

By three, the Lantern House looked different. The room breathed better. The service path from the kitchen was clear, the temporary station sat against the far wall, and the decorative clutter had been consolidated into two neat staging areas for tomorrow.

Georgia stood near the center of the dining room with one hand on her hip, watching a server carry a tray from the kitchen toward the bar. The server made the turn without slowing, and Georgia nodded once as her whole face softened.

That expression did something to me. I had seen plenty of attractive women in my life. I had been married and dated after the divorce, though not seriously enough to make room for anyone in a life built around work.

Georgia was beautiful; that part required no analysis. What caught me now was watching her belong somewhere.

Watching her, I got the sense that this wasn’t about having to be useful, paying a debt, or proving she deserved a paycheck. She seemed to like making a room work, solving the kind of problem that involved people and timing and food and whether a server could reach a table without getting taken out by a chair.

I wanted to see more of her like this, and that thought sat heavier than attraction.

Before I could decide what to do with it, Case appeared beside me.

“You’ve been staring at her for almost a full minute.”

I looked at him.

He held up both hands. “Observation only. I value my life.”

“She’s good at this.”