Incendiary (52 page)

My ears ring at her soft confession. Georgie shouldn’t tell motherfuckers she likes them. I know it’s innocent.
They
don’t.

“I like you, too, ma’am.”

Mimicking John Wayne doesn’t impress me, but Georgie smiles widely, lowers the burner, then leans across from him on the counter, resting her hands in front of her. “I’ve never fired anyone, and I’d hate to start with you. Okay? I don’t know how to be anyone but me, and ‘me’ gets it wrong sometimes. A lot of times. Maybe, I didn’t keep the line between us that Grandma always goes on about. If so, I’m sorry. If you’re acting unprofessional because of anything Kiln might have said, throw out whatever you’ve heard. But you’re not going to come on to me and you’re not sleeping with Abby again. That crosses a clear line.”

Georgie’s words shocks the fuck out of both me and Jason. As I contemplated the harm I’d do to his body, she put him in his place without raising her voice and without flinching.

“You’re right. I’ll never disrespect you again.”

She cocks her head in suspicion. Sometimes, it only takes firmness to gain respect. As much as I want to barge in and fuck him up, I decide to stand down. This is her moment and she’s handled it perfectly.

“Your stew is ready.” A lavish gesture to the pot on the stove accompanies her announcement. “You can have some before supper. I’m taking a quick shower before Sloane gets home, then setting the table for your birthday meal.”

Georgie leaves the kitchen through the door at the opposite end, so I step into the room before she glances over her shoulder and spies me loitering. Jason jerks in my direction and I bare my teeth at him.

He clears his throat. “Mr. Mason.”

Long moments slide by as I stare at him, relishing his growing discomfort. He’s turning red. When he’s sufficiently bullied, I speak. “Where’s Georgie?”

“Shower, sir.” He winces, though as her bodyguard he should be aware of her location at all times. “I think.”

I lift a brow. “You don’t know?”

Weighted with the guilt of coming on to Georgie, he looks away. It’s so fucking hard for me not to knock his teeth out and then throw him out on his head. But it’s important for Georgie to feel in control. If I go behind her and fuck him up for encroaching on my territory, I’ll undermine her authority with our staff.

Gritting my teeth, I nod to him then head to the bedroom, where I find Georgie staring at a check on her dresser.

Wrapping my arms around her, I press the front of my body against the back of hers and rest my chin on the top of her head. “What’s up?”

She angles her head, exposing the side of her neck to my mouth. “This.”

I kiss a line from her earlobe to the bridge between her neck and shoulder, before I reach around her and grab the check. The eight figures jump out at me. My eyes flick away, then back to the number. To guarantee I’m not hallucinating that Cassandra bequeathed this money to Georgie, I recite it under my breath. It doesn’t change.

“I’m tearing it up,” she announces petulantly.

She’s doing…“
What?
”

Tearing herself away from me, she whirls around and lifts her chin. “Mom only left that money to me for show. Even in death, she doesn’t care about me.”

While I understand her point, I don’t agree. “After suffering so many years as her daughter, you earned this money.”

“If she’d loved me, she could’ve left me two dollars and I would’ve been so happy. She didn’t. The best revenge is not taking her stupid money.”

“Yes,” I say slowly. Cassandra will always be a sensitive topic for Georgie. She’s grieving for her mother. Helen could’ve allowed Georgie to believe Cassandra left it to her out of some latent motherly instinct. “She’s dead. You won’t be hurting her by not accepting the money. You’ll be hurting yourself.”

“It’s the principle,” she insists. “Two dollars given out of love would be two solid reasons to accept the money.”

Focusing on the figure again, I clear my throat. “As opposed to twenty million shallow ones?” Insisting she take this money is a ruthless move better suited for Helen. I don’t give a fuck. Georgie has as much right to Cassandra’s money as Josh. More so, because she received the brunt of her mother’s hate. “You’d skip to the bank for two fucking dollars but won’t even drive there for the millions?”

“I don’t want the fucking money. I don’t need it. All I’ve ever gotten is money. I just want someone to look at me and say,
Georgie, I love you. I want to spend time with you.
Or…or…
I enjoy your company.
Or anything but
here, Georgie, take this money but stay out of my way
. Money can never take the place of knowing someone wants you.”

I understand perfectly. My legion of fans adoring me is superficial compared to the love of the girl in front of me. Nothing compares to knowing she’s at my side. Not fame, fortune, or
things
.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I say gruffly, pocketing the check and not giving her a chance to comply. Taking her elbow, I back to the bed and sit, pulling her between my legs. I cradle her face between my hands and stare into her teary eyes. In the dim light, they almost appear blue. “I love you, Georgiana. I enjoy your company and I want to spend time with you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispers, planting her mouth on mine and sighing against my lips when I take over.

Freeing my cock, I lift her skirt and hook a finger in her panties, discarding them with a hard yank. She climbs onto my lap, her pussy open to me. Though I want to plunge into her, I take my time, thumb her clit until she comes on my fingers, before burying my dick inside of her. Hands on her hips, I thrust up, moving slowly, absorbing her whimpers and gasps. She falls into my rhythm, wrapping her arms around my neck as her legs are around my back. We’re as close as two humans can be, and I regret the barrier of our clothes.

Standing with her, I walk to the dresser and set her right on the edge. Now that I’m sure I won’t hurt her, I go hard and deep into her, locking gazes and not releasing our hypnotic stare until we both come.

“Sloane,” she sighs, laying her head against my chest.

I caress her back, her shirt damp with sweat, and then comb my fingers through her equally damp hair. Pulling my cock out of her, I lift her into my arms and lay her on the bed, joining her a moment later.

“Today’s Jason’s birthday,” she murmurs.

Let him choke on his fucking stew. “Mmmm.” The best response when I can’t speak the truth. Before she mentions that motherfucker again, I rub my hand over her belly and change the subject. “Do you know how much I’m worth?”

She sucks my neck and stretches against me. “A lot?”

Her cheeky question makes me laugh. “That makes you worth a lot, too, right?”

“Um, I-I guess,” she responds in a small voice.

I glance down at her and wait until she lifts her gaze to me before I ask, “You aren’t sure?”

“It’s your money.”

“What’s mine is yours. You know that. But the check in my pocket gives you freedom and security beyond what I could ever offer. There’s nothing in this world like your own money.” Fuck, that didn’t come out right. I hurry on. “Cassandra left it to you. The reason doesn’t matter. Josh, Helen, Parnell don’t need this money. They have their own. Now, you have yours. If you accept it.”

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

Georgie has to be the only girl in the world who has so grudgingly accepted so much money. I hide a smile, satisfied with her decision.

Five days later, beneath clear evening skies, I return to the stage for the first time since the night I walked away from the nightclub in Houston. Unlike then, Georgie isn’t hiding away in a room, afraid to venture out because she’d been hurt too many times to count. I’m not carrying bitterness and hopelessness. She’s at the side of the stage, being looked after by Kiln, though the others are with her as well. Bryn is adorable in a pair of jeans, a very tiny band T-shirt and a white eyelet hat. As usual, she’s in her sling, strapped to Georgie. Abby is aware I’m calling my wife onstage, so she’s waiting to take hold of my daughter.

Music flows from me and into my strings and I lose myself for a few minutes. It’s only me and my instrument. I don’t hear the roar of the crowd, the screams, the calls. Just the riffs crying out from my guitar, pounding through my blood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Adam move to the center of the stage, my cue to line up back-to-back with him. When we do, smoke rises up and the lights flash red and white, but not black. Not this time. Today I only see passion and fire, purity and light. Georgie. With her, there is no darkness.

As we close out the song, Rhea shakes her ass in front of me and the other two girls dance around Adam. They’re twins and it’ll be his ass when they discover he’s fucking both of them. He’s decided to play a fucking game with them because he’s a clueless motherfucker.

Rhea shimmies against me, posing with each chord I hit, as we practiced, making a production of tossing her hair and jiggling her tits and, finally, leaning against me, her hand against my cheek.

Applause rings out for a full minute, until I pick the strings and walk up to the mic. “You fucking like that?” I yell, feeding off the excitement. “You want more?” An unnecessary question to engage them. I glance at Adam. “What do you think, bro? Give them what they’re asking for?”

He pretends to think about the answer, riling the crowd up more. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

“There’s a special girl I’d like to personally introduce you to,” I continue, looking to the side of the stage. Abby is whispering to Georgie and taking Bryn into her arms. “Her name is Georgie and I want you all to make nice with her. She means everything to me. If you hurt her, you hurt me, and I hurt you.”

Since Quint’s the closest to the staircase, he holds out his hand and Georgie accepts it, but stops. She’s wearing a plaid shirt, tied at her midriff, very short jean shorts, and red stilettos.

“To bring out the red in my shirt,” she’d said.

The red bandanna tied on her head matches my blue one, plastered to my hair with sweat.

She looks so fucking hot and sexy, I hope she’s too shy to come onstage. She hasn’t moved yet. Even though I’d prefer to hide her, it disappoints me she’s staying put.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

My order gets her moving. Once she reaches my side, I smile at her, but position my body just in front of hers. Kiln and Jason stand at the top of the stairs, ready if something goes down.

“We’re dancing together?” she whispers to me.

“No.” Before she can say anything else, I turn to the crowd. “Give it up for my girl, Georgie Mason, and the mother of my daughter.” Clasping her hand in mine, I lift our joined fingers up and the audience yells in approval, applauding when I bend and kiss her. “Another time,” I promise, then nod for Kiln to escort her offstage before diving into another song.

We’ve been back in Denver for almost three weeks, leaving a few days later for the performance at the festival, then flying back home late that same night. Sloane ignored my disappointment over not dancing with him onstage, saying only that the risk was too great. My eighteenth birthday is a week away, and I find myself in the same predicament as I did just a few days away from my seventeenth birthday.