When the food hits my tongue, the heavenly taste of meat and tomato and cheese hits my senses. Luke and Thomas were right. This lasagna is damn good.
“What do you think?” Georgia asks me.
“It’s delicious. Even better than the flatbread we made the other night.” I smile at her, and she beams. In the background, Alec’s glaring and Luke is smirking.
Just friends, I remind myself. That’s all we can be.
When we’re done eating, since it’s Luke’s day to do the dishes, I show Georgia around the station. Where we work out, sleep, shower. Our gaming room…
“So,” she says slowly as I walk her over to her truck. “Seeing Lexi and Alec and Abigail yesterday got me thinking about my future...”
My breath hitches wondering where she’s going with this…
“I have my career, but I don’t have anyone to share my life with,” she continues, and I swear I stop breathing altogether. Is she about to ask me out? And why doesn’t the thought have me wanting to run? I’m not ready. I should be thinking of a reason to bolt. Coming up with an excuse as to why I have to say no.
“I can’t find anyone if I’m at home, so I want to get out… put myself out there. I want to one day get married and have babies, find a man I can cook for.” She smiles softly, and I wait with bated breath for her to finish. Yes is at the tip of my tongue. It shouldn’t be, but it is.
“I was wondering if…” She bites down on her bottom lip nervously. “Would you be my wingman?”
I’m about to blurt out yes, when it hits me… “Your wingman?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah. You like going to the clubs and picking up women, you know all the happening places in LA… And I don’t really have any friends to go out with. I promise not to mess with your game.” She laughs, and the melodic sound hits me like an arrow straight in the chest.
Jesus, I’m such a dumbass. She wants me to help her find a guy, not be her guy. It’s probably for the best anyway. What the hell was I thinking?
“Yeah,” I choke out, plastering a smile on my face. “I can be your wingman.”
“Yay!” She jumps up and down and then throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you! I’m going to go shopping with my mom tomorrow. So tomorrow night, since you’re off, want to go out?”
“Sounds good.”
“Have a good night at work,” she says, jumping into her truck.
“See ya.” I wave as she drives away.
“So, just friends, huh?” Alec says, stepping up next to me as I watch her drive her monster truck away.
“Yep.” I turn on my heel and walk back inside.
“You sure about that? Because when Luke mentioned—”
“Just friends,” I bite out, cutting him off. “She even asked me to be her wingman.”
“Her what?” Alec laughs.
“Her wingman. She wants to go out and find her Mr. Perfect, so she can marry said Mr. Perfect and move into a perfect house and have tons of perfect little babies running around.” Yes, I’m aware of how bitter I sound.
Alec eyes me for a long moment then sighs. “I can’t believe I’m even going to say this, but if you like her why don’t you just tell her? It’s obvious you do, and based on the way she blushed when you complimented her cooking, I would say the feeling is mutual.”
Because it’s not that easy… Because she’s rich and comes from a great family and wants this perfect fucking life that I’m not capable of giving her. What do I even have to offer a woman like her? Not a damn thing.
“We’re just friends,” I tell him in a tone that says to drop it. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Just as I’m walking toward the bathroom, the tone sounds through the station. I grab the receiver and take down the information from dispatch.
The six of us jump into the engine and take off to the location. And for the next couple hours, while we put out the fire, I push the thoughts of Georgia out of my mind and the fact that in twenty-four hours I’m supposed to help her find her perfect fucking guy.
Georgia
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Those are the four words I keep repeating to myself as Chase and I walk through the Z Lounge. According to Chase, it’s a little more down to earth. Instead of a deejay, they have live music. But as we walk through the main area toward the bar, I’m not sure Chase’s definition of down to earth is the same as mine because the music is thumping so loud it’s vibrating the floor, and the bodies—lots of bodies—are grinding against one another to the beat.