The Boss and His Cowgirl(34)
“We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Ah, no you won’t.”
“Hunt and I will pick you up. Please tell me Georgie isn’t still wearing her gown.”
“She’s not. She’s wearing a set of my sweats.”
“Your...oh.”
Silence stretched a little longer than Clay would have liked.
“So, last night...”
“Why are you calling, Boone?”
“Something’s up. Besides you, I mean.”
Clay groaned at his cousin’s bad pun, but Boone rushed on before Clay could reply.
“Trust me. We need face time. After we pick y’all up, we’ll swing by Georgie’s apartment so she can change.”
“What’s up?”
“This is an all-hands-on-deck situation. I promise.”
“Fine. See you in a few.”
Clay asked the barista to change their order to go and grabbed the drink carrier and bag when she passed it over. At the table, Georgie was still madly texting. He cleared his throat to get her attention and she glanced up, looking guilty.
“Boone and Hunt are picking us up out front.”
“Oh.” Her head jerked, and her gaze latched onto his. “Wait. What?”
“Something’s come up. C’mon.”
She pushed back from the table, stood and followed him out the door. The black SUV slid to a stop at the curb about a minute later. Boone jumped out to open the back passenger door. Georgie slid in. Then Clay handed her the drinks and bag containing their muffins and climbed in. A moment later, Boone was in the front seat and Hunt pulled smoothly into traffic, despite the honking behind them.
Georgie turned to look and laughed. “Well, that was close. Parker took your advice. That was a camera crew from WTDC honking at us.”
She swiveled to face the front, but the humor in her expression died as Boone stared back, worry etched on his face. Clay glanced from his cousin to Georgie and back. “Okay, cuz. We’re face-to-face. What’s up?”
“Cyrus.”
His father’s name dropped into a pool of silence and Clay’s stomach clenched. “What’s he done now?”
“He filed the paperwork for a PAC.”
Clay wasn’t too surprised, given the conversation the old man had forced on him at both Thanksgiving and Christmas. “So? It’s not exactly a secret that I’ll be seeking the party’s nomination.”
“He’s hired you a—” Boone coughed into his hand. “Dream team.”
Georgie leaned forward, her lips pursed and brow furrowed. “He hired handlers?”
“Yup.”
Not waiting for the other shoe to drop, Clay pushed. “What else, Boone? You wouldn’t be wasting your Sunday morning if there wasn’t more.”
“Cyrus wants to fire me and Georgie. And announce your engagement.”
Georgie squeaked, her eyes wide and shocked as she pivoted in her seat to nail Clay with a look. “Our engagement? But...last night was our fir—”
Boone cut her off. “To Giselle.”
* * *
Hunt dropped them off in front of Georgie’s apartment and went in search of a parking space. Boone followed them up the stairs, which irritated Clay no end. “We don’t need a chaperone.”
“Yeah, I’d say that horse is already out of the barn, cuz. This isn’t chaperoning, this is strategizing.”
Inside her apartment, Georgie left the men in the living room while she ducked into her bedroom to change clothes. First, though, she settled her familiar black-framed glasses on her nose. Being able to see clearly was a gift. Too bad it was only her eyesight that was fixed and not her heart and brain.
Her cheeks heated at the thought of her gaffe earlier. How could she have thought Clay would jump from a one-night stand into an engagement with her, her girlish fantasies notwithstanding?
Gathering her wits and a huge helping of intestinal fortitude, Georgie emerged to face the three men waiting for her return. Boone lounged on her couch, as if he planned to take an afternoon nap. Hunt had snagged a chair from her kitchen table and sat straddling it, his arms crossed over the back. Clay occupied her reading chair, feet propped on her ottoman. She grabbed another chair but Clay moved his feet and patted the ottoman.
“Sit here, sweet pea.”
Just as she sat, her front door burst open and Jen stood there, her gaze flicking over all of them as she processed the scene. “Georgie? The senator’s in your chair.”
Hunt pushed up from his chair and ducked behind her best friend to shut the door, twisting the dead bolt this time.
“Jen! What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t come home last night,” the other woman accused. “I came down to get the juicy details.” She waggled her brows.