ERIC TURNED INTO his driveway. As the house came into view, he could no longer ignore the fact that he’d agreed to an adventure with a woman who was living and working for him. A woman he was supposed to keep out of trouble. He could tell himself he was playing the part of the concerned friend until he was blue in the face. It wouldn’t change the fact that when someone else offered to take Georgia hiking, he wanted to scream: she’s mine.
But Georgia didn’t belong to anyone. And judging by the way she’d reacted to the crowd, she needed a friend more than anything. Georgia had a mountain of issues to work through. She was like a wildfire, burning out of control. He wanted to help rein her in, but he didn’t want to get burned in the process.
Eric tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Whatever he felt for her, he had to bury it. Deep. As he had for the past decade.
He pressed the button on the remote. Waiting for the garage door, he glanced to his right. In the grassy area beside the house, Georgia stood in a pair of form-fitting blue jeans, cowgirl boots, and a flowing white tank held together in the back with a panel of lace. Between the boots and the frilly top, she was a picture-perfect farm girl. Holding a gas can.
Eric’s foot hit the break. With the nose of his car in his parking space, he watched her fill up one of his four-wheelers. When she finished, she turned to the second. On the back of that one, he saw a picnic basket, two bows, and a quiver of arrows bungee corded to the rack.
Eric drove into the garage, stepped out of his car, and went to find Georgia. “Four wheeling to dinner?” he asked.
She turned the cap on the second gas tank before glancing up at him. “I thought a picnic would be more discreet. And this will ensure we’re home before dark.”
He raised a brow. “Turning into a pumpkin when the sun sets?”
“I don’t want to ruin your reputation, Mr. Straightlaced.”
She headed into the garage and Eric followed, watching as she rose to her tiptoes and reached for a high shelf. Her shirt rode up, revealing a slim section of her back. Mr. Straightlaced? He wasn’t so sure.
His mind traveled back to the other night when she exploded in a rush on his bed. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t want to stop there. The things he wanted to do to her . . .
Eric shook his head, pushing the images away. It was one thing to take his best friend’s little sister on an adventure, just the two of them, because he couldn’t stand the thought of another man hiking and camping with her. It was another thing entirely to want dirty, downright kinky sex. And Georgia took his fantasies to a dangerous new place.
She slid the gas can onto the shelf and turned around. “Our sitter also needs to get home on the early side tonight. Katie’s inside with Nate if you want to say hello and change,” she said, glancing at his business suit.
He nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”
Inside, he found Nate and his sitter playing trains on the kitchen floor. Three bowls sat beside the track—carrot sticks, dip, and fish-shaped nuggets.
“We’re having a train picnic,” Nate exclaimed, springing from the floor and hurling his small body at Eric.
“Hey, buddy.” Eric lifted him up and hugged him tight. Coming home to this kid—he was everything. From the day Nate moved in, every other piece of Eric’s life took a backseat to his nephew—his company, his personal life, everything.
Hold that thought.
“We add a cargo car every time we finish a vegetable.” Katie rose from the floor, smiling at Eric.
“Thanks for hanging out with him tonight,” Eric said. “We’ll be back before dark, so I can put him to bed if he wants to stay up.”
“Yes!” Nate hugged him tighter.
“Sure thing,” Katie said. “But don’t rush home on my account. I want Georgia to enjoy her night off.”
One look at the knowing sparkle in Katie’s eyes, and it dawned on him. She thought this was a date. And shit, he’d gone to school with her brothers. So had Liam, not that he spent much time with the Summers brothers now, but if Katie talked . . .
“We’re just heading out for a little target practice,” he said.
Katie’s smile widened. “I don’t need to know the details. And don’t worry, Eric. I won’t tell anyone about the two of you. I promised Georgia.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, his voice firm. He set Nate down by the train picnic and headed for the hall.
Twenty minutes later, Eric pulled up alongside Georgia and cut the engine on his four-wheeler. The spot she’d picked for their early evening picnic offered a view of the valley and the surrounding mountains. He frowned. He knew this area. And this spot was not on his land. A couple from California had cleared the homesite a few years back, but then the market dipped, especially in rural Oregon. It had been empty ever since.
“You know, I own plenty of acres with good picnic spots,” Eric said. “We don’t need to trespass.”
“No one will know, and this place has great views.” She released the bungee cords securing their meal to the back of her vehicle.
“Any more surprises I should be aware of? We’re not going to skydive after dinner?”