I can’t tell who she’s talking to right away—he’s leaning close with his arm braced on the wall beside her. His stance is almost predatory, but Georgia is no skittish prey caught in his trap. Her green eyes glint with pleasure as she leans against the wall and gazes up at him. Whatever he’s saying, she appears to be having a good time.

The knowledge shouldn’t rankle. It’s not like I wanted her to be bored, but I would have much preferred she have a good time drinking and dancing with Elaine Constantine while I chatted with Lucian than cornered by some man—

My thoughts cut off rather abruptly when I get close enough to realize who that man is.

“Caleb Grant.”

He turns his head, an easy smile on his face as his gaze hits mine. “Lee Holden. It’s been a while.”

Not long enough.

Nodding at Georgia with a bullshit smile, I say, “I see you’ve met my date.”

“Date,” Georgia scoffs. She takes a sip of champagne, but I get the immediate impression she’s already had a bit too much of it. “I am not your date. A date is a person you talk to, maybe even dance with, but I…” She gestures to herself, but her train of thought seems to have rolled on without her. Her forehead creases in mild confusion as she tries to remember what she wanted to say.

“She’s lovely,” Caleb states, a bit dryly.

She is lovely. And drunk. “I think it’s time to go,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “The party isn’t—” She stops and looks to Caleb for an answer. “Is the party over?”

“Not yet,” he assures her.

With a decisive bob of her head, she says, “Excellent. Then why should we leave?”

“I’ve accomplished all I set out to,” I tell her. “Why don’t we find you a bathroom so you can freshen up? I’ll call the car and—”

“I’m not ready to leave,” she informs me. “I’m finally having fun, and now you want to leave?” She shakes her head no.

I don’t appreciate the smirk on Caleb’s face as my date informs us she only started having fun when she started hanging out with him. If she’s going to be mad at me, she can do it in the car on the way home, but it’s time to go.

Grabbing her wrist, I tug her away from the wall. “Come on.”

She pulls her wrist free, glaring at me. “No.”

I narrow my eyes at her, letting her feel a bit of my annoyance. “I’m not going to argue with you, Georgia. We’re leaving.”

“If you want to leave, go ahead. I’m staying.”

My jaw clenches. I work to unclench it and bite out, “I’m your ride home.”