Page 35 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Georgia

F letcher: Hey, I’m here, but the door’s locked.

Me: I’m coming up.

Tossing the phone on my desk, I walk out of my office and hurry toward the front to let him in. The store closed about an hour ago, but I stayed back to finish a few things.

Standing under the awning outside, Fletcher nods his chin and grins when he spots me.

My stomach dips as I take him in, wearing a yellow crop sweatshirt, with the sleeves rolled up, black athletic shorts, that are entirely too short, and a pair of clean, white tennis shoes.

He looks hot, and I’m guessing he’s coming from the gym.

Opening the door, he walks past me into the store as I click the deadbolt into place again.

My gaze immediately drags down his back, and I can’t help but notice how fucking bitable his ass looks in those tiny shorts.

Jesus, I really am no better than a man .

“Is everything all right?” he asks as he turns to face me.

“Yeah.” I nod, strolling past him. “Follow me.”

“Are we about to act out some sexy fantasy you have about getting fucked on your desk or something?” he asks as we walk into my office.

Barking out a laugh, I turn and face him, the question catching me off guard. “No? Why the hell would you think that?”

Waggling his brows, Fletcher flashes me a smirk that has no business being so attractive. “Maybe because things have been tense between us since the night after the bar, but you sent me a random-ass text, telling me to meet you at your store after hours , and we’re the only ones here?”

“And in your brain, that automatically meant I was looking for sex?”

“Hell yeah.” He snorts. “Can’t say I’d blame ya for needing to be dicked down by your stepbrother’s thick cock again. I know damn well I fucked you good the first time.”

“Ew, never say that again.” Face twisting up, I pretend to gag, even though the idea of getting railed over my desk turns me on. “That is not why I asked you to come here, you pervert.”

Fletcher laughs and pulls out the chair in front of my desk, taking a seat as I do the same. “Okay, then what, Peach?”

“I’d like to help you with your capstone,” I say before reaching into my drawer and pulling out a stack of papers I printed earlier.

Setting them down in front of him, I meet his gaze and say, “I called your dad and got all the information you’ll need to create a proper business plan for a secondary location, like you said.

It’s all right here.” Not knowing how Fletcher’s going to react to me going to his father, my stomach twists as he glances at the papers on the desk, then at me.

“Why would you do that?” he finally asks, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Because, Fletcher, you told me three days ago you hadn’t even started it yet,” I point out. “And if you remember, in order for me to keep my store, I have to make sure you graduate.”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” He shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “But nah, that’s not it.”

“Excuse me?” My gaze narrows. Is he fucking serious? “Do you want my free help or not?”

“Georgia, I’m not stupid. There’s a reason my father wanted you , specifically, to see me through the rest of my program.

You and I weren’t close when I was growing up, so it’s not like he just knew you’d want to help me.

And it sure as hell isn’t simply because it’s part of some deal that lets you keep the store.

That’s far too generous for him.” Sitting back in the chair and clasping his hands together, Fletcher watches me inquisitively.

“Alden St. James is nothing if not strategic when it comes to business, and one thing he definitely is not is a gambling man. There is a reason he chose you, Georgia—a careful, deliberate reason he made that deal with you—and I want you to finally tell me what that reason is. The real reason.”

I knew he wasn’t going to drop this, but he’s asking me to talk about a time in my life that I generally prefer not to even think about, and he doesn’t even realize it.

But given how I have a front-row seat to the bullshit with his asshat of a father, and how he’s shared some of his own struggles with me, the least I can do is give him this, even if thinking back to that time makes my skin crawl.

“Fine.” Sitting back, I swallow around the lump in my throat, ignoring the tightness in my chest. “When I was nineteen, I started dating this guy named Timmy, who I met in undergrad, and we?—”

Fletcher snorts, cutting me off. “Okay, rewind. You dated a guy—an adult man — whose name is Timmy ? Not Tim? Not Timothy? Timmy? Does he have fairy godparents too?”

“Do you want to hear the story?” I blurt out, rolling my eyes.

Biting back a laugh, he says, “Sorry, continue. You and Timmy Turner dated…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s such a child.

“We were living together by the time I started grad school, and he was paying all of our bills so I could save up and pursue my dream of opening a coffee shop after graduation.”

“Wait, not a bookstore?” he asks, brows furrowed.

“No, I worked at a coffee shop all through high school and college, and actually, the idea for the bookstore didn’t come until about a quarter of the way through my final year,” I explain.

“Anyway, the plan was to use my savings toward a down payment on a business loan once I graduated, but then I discovered my savings account had been completely drained about a month into my final year of grad school. Which coincidentally, was also the same time I found out the man I’d been in a relationship with for the last six years had a secret gambling addiction. ”

Fletcher sits up, his eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me that motherfucker stole your money?”

I nod, my stomach in knots. “My car got repossessed while I was at work one day, and that was the catalyst for it all. Something in my gut had me checking the bank account, which wasn’t something I usually did, because I knew—or I thought I knew—everything was being taken care of.

” A chilling shiver rolls down my spine.

“The checking account was overdrawn by several hundred, and my savings account was completely empty.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I swallow around the emotion clogging my throat.

Nearly fifteen years and hundreds of hours of therapy later, and I still remember being unable to breathe as my life fell apart before my eyes in that coffee shop.

Finding out all our money was gone was a sucker punch to the gut; it was somehow knee-buckling and paralyzing at the same time.

A bone-deep ache, like my heart had literally cracked open.

It was devastating and sobering, and it irrevocably changed who I was as a person, and as a woman.

“Fuck, Georgia,” Fletcher mutters sharply, his mossy green eyes hard as they meet mine. “What did he say when you confronted him?”

“He said the accounts had been hacked, and young, confused, hurt me wanted to believe that lie.” I wanted to believe somebody I loved and trusted with everything in me could never do something so cruel.

“Thank god for that gut feeling at work and the screenshots I took of the account activity; otherwise, I probably never would’ve been able to trace it back to ATM withdrawals at various casinos he was going to all the many times he claimed to be working overtime.

” Huffing out a dry laugh, I say, “He left town in the middle of the night after I showed him proof of everything I knew.”

Quiet for a long moment, Fletcher finally asks, “How much?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “It’s been a long time.”

“Bullshit,” he growls. “How much did that fucking coward steal from you, Georgia?”

Sitting back, I meet his gaze. “About seventy-two thousand.”

“ Fuck ,” he hisses under his breath, nostrils flaring as he heaves a sigh. Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, Fletcher scratches a hand along his jaw, the muscles tight. “Georgia, I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that. God , that’s so fucked up.”

A shiver wracks through my body, sending goosebumps all over my skin at the sincerity of his words, but also from the intensity in his stare. “It’s fine?—”

“It’s not fine,” he bites out.

“You’re right, but I got through it, and I’m okay,” I murmur softly.

“But that’s why your dad knew I could help you.

After Timmy left, I struggled immensely, not only to stay afloat mentally and financially, but also to stay focused and on track with my classes.

I wanted to quit, and if it weren’t for all the support I had, there’s no way I would’ve graduated.

So, when I say I’ve been where you’re at—having your life be a mess while you’re trying to find the will to finish school—I mean it. ”

Fletcher watches me for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind, which is why I’m not surprised by his next question. “How’d he know that, though?” His brows dip as he sits forward. “How does my dad know about what you went through during grad school?”

Rolling my lips between my teeth, I exhale a heavy breath through my nose.

“He doesn’t. At least, not really,” I offer.

“I’m sure you remember me living with my dad when our parents got married.

” When he nods, I say, “They were an immense support system and helped me get me back on my feet, but I was still essentially broke. The plan to open my own business after graduation was a pipe dream. My savings was gone, I was living paycheck to paycheck, and I knew neither of my parents had that kind of money to loan me.”

I watch the puzzle pieces slide into place before Fletcher says, “But my father did.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I nod.

“My capstone project was focused on opening a new bookstore in Blossom Beach. Reading got me through the breakup, through grieving the loss of the future I had planned, and before I knew it, the picture of what I wanted shifted, and even though I knew I couldn’t afford to actually do it, I still made one hell of a comprehensive business plan.

” Breathing out a small chuckle, my chest tightens.

“It was your mom,” I rasp. “She took it to your dad, and he agreed to loan me the money. I was able to lease this building and buy everything I needed to open the bookstore.”

“Wow…” Blowing out a breath, Fletcher says, “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not something I prefer to talk about.

” Chest cracked open, my skin crawls, knowing Fletcher is getting a glimpse at the hurt and shame and trauma I’ve kept locked away for all these years.

It’s uncomfortable, and painfully vulnerable, and I don’t do vulnerable, not since back then.

“When your mom told me about the loan, I didn’t accept it at first, because I swore I’d never put myself in a situation where I had to rely on anybody again.

Once she sat me down and—very sternly—told me that I can’t let my fear keep me from the life I want and deserve, I finally agreed, but I worked my ass off to pay him back with interest as quickly as I could. ”

Neither of us says anything for a minute, the air between us tense, and I fight the urge to squirm as Fletcher looks me in the eye with such intensity, like he can see straight into my soul. It’s unnerving, and I’m not used to it.

“You are extraordinary, Georgia.” His words hit me square in the chest. “You didn’t deserve any of what happened to you, but you didn’t let it break you, and look at where you’re at today.” He huffs out a breath. “Wow.”

My throat aches, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

I don’t know how to respond, or even how to feel.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, ignoring my racing heart and the butterflies in my stomach.

Then I do what I do best; shift attention away from me.

“Okay, enough about me,” I murmur, shoving the papers across the table.

“Can we focus on you and this project now?”

Sucking on his teeth, Fletcher rolls his eyes. “Come on, you’re really not going to let me fuck you on this desk?”

Heat pools in my core, and I squeeze my thighs together. The urge to give in and say yes is strong, but I manage to hold it together. “No, we have a ton of work to do.”

“Can fucking you be my reward?” A smirk tugs on his lips as he arches a brow.

“Fletcher, focus .”