Now, of course she’d found the perfect man. Only he was broken up into three, very large delectable pieces. She felt for them, for the pain and loss that she’d recognized in them. And she envied them because they had each other. Though that obviously wasn’t always the case.
She traced her finger along the bookshelf, silently reading off the titles in her head. Medical textbooks, science fiction and cooking recipes lined the top shelf. She was just checking out the second row when someone touched her shoulder.
“Thank you, Georgia.”
Chris. She turned and smiled. “For what?”
He grimaced. “For helping us trim the tree. For being kind. For distracting Flynn. This time of year is usually hardest on him.”
“What a fibber you are.” She covered her mouth at his shocked expression. “Oops. I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?”
His eyebrow lifted. “Are you upset that you called me a liar or that you used a word like fibber?”
“I am a writer, I can use any word I want. I can also make up new ones. Like fibasity. Which I have decided means the audacity of fibbing.” Georgia giggled through her fingers. “I probably shouldn’t have whatever they’re making in the kitchen.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, moving closer. “And I probably shouldn’t still want to kiss you, not after seeing you with James.”
Her voice rose up a surprised octave. “But you do?”
He nodded grimly. “I do. Why did you call me a liar?”
What had they been talking about? Georgia searched her memory until a light bulb weakly flared. “The time of year…it’s hardest on you. A healer faced with something he couldn’t fix. The caretaker who always has to be strong. Stand apart. Be the oldest.” He flinched and she raised her hand to his face, loving the way his beard felt against her fingers. “And in case you were wondering, I probably shouldn’t still want to kiss you after kissing Jimmy.”
Jimmy’s voice startled them both. “But she does.”
Chris turned around, keeping Georgia behind him. “James, I know what this looks like—”
“Me too,” Jimmy quirked his lips. “It looks like our traditionally morbid tree trimming party has taken a turn for the interesting. Flynn, get in here. You’re missing all the fun.”
Georgia frowned at him. “Why aren’t you upset? Was I such a bad kisser?” Oh heaven, had she just said that? She needed to never drink again. Ever.
Flynn arrived in time to watch Jimmy walk over to the couch and sit back lazily, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But Georgia could see the intensity in his eyes. “On the contrary. Chris, I can tell you from experience, she is the best damn kisser this side of the hemisphere. Once you taste her, you can’t think of anything else. You won’t want to stop.”
Had she passed out? Was she dreaming? Why was that idea comforting? Why was it okay to do what she really wanted to in a dream but not in reality? Maybe it was the drinks talking, but Georgia wasn’t sure anymore. She sent a wobbly smile to Jimmy. “Thank you.”
Flynn glared at all of them. “Damn it, I staked a claim. Wasn’t that our old rule? We like the same girl, whoever stakes a claim first gets her and the others back off.”
Georgia put her hands on her hips. “If you talk about me like a mining venture again you won’t like my reaction. No one can stake a claim on me. And I am not a competition to be won with snowmen or strongman trophies. I make up my own mind. I decide who I want.”
Jimmy took a sip of something that looked cool and frothy…and pink. Of course, in his hands, even a girly drink looked incredibly masculine. “But you can’t, can you, Georgia? That’s why you stopped me from taking our kiss further in the kitchen. That’s why you disappeared inside the house this afternoon. You can’t decide.”
“God, you’re good. Seriously, how do you do that?” Georgia was too tipsy to be anything other than impressed by his observations.
Chris let out a soft laugh behind her. “He read a lot of detective novels in his youth.”
Flynn nodded, still looking confused, but willing to play along. “He’s also watched Sherlock Holmes about a hundred times.”
Jimmy made a face. “People-watching is one thing Georgia and I have in common. She watches the three of us the way I watch a potential car thief. Either she’s doing research for a new story, or she wants us.”
“Us,” Flynn clarified. “Orgy palace-style us? Or metaphorically speaking?”
Chris came back into her line of vision again, placing her chin between his fingers so he could look her in the eye. “Is James right? Is that something you think about? Something you want?”