A satisfied smile stretches along her lips. “Good. You weren’t lying when you said you were the cool one.”

I match her grin. “Told you so.”

We make small talk while finishing up cleaning, and I learn:

She was voted Miss Teen Blue Beech, to which I replied, “That sounds like the honkiest shit I’ve ever heard.” That resulted in a napkin being thrown in my direction.

The night she found out about her father’s affair, she lit every birthday present he’d ever given her on fire.

She lost her virginity on prom night but lied about it because she didn’t want to seem like a cliché.

What do I share with her?

I graduated with a finance degree from Stanford.

I used to lie about being allergic to shellfish, so I wouldn’t have to eat nasty-ass caviar because my parents served it on the regular.

Before prison, I embarrassingly didn’t know how to work a washer and dryer.

“Do you live around here?” I ask while we walk to our cars, leaves slashing along the concrete.

She nods, unlocking her car. “Like, ten minutes away. What about you?”

“About twenty.” I fail to mention the reason I’m crashing with my brother. That the feds took nearly everything with my name on it, not caring if I had two nickels to rub together.

“I’ll have to come see it sometime.” Standing on her tiptoes, she smacks a kiss to my cheek and flashes me a playful grin. “You can give me a tour.”

As she leaves, I glide my finger over my cheek, feeling the heat of where her lips were.

I grin like the damn Grinch.

“Georgia,” I greet when she walks into the bar.

Georgia narrows her eyes in my direction. “Unless you’re here to tell me where the hell your bastard of a brother is, I’m not speaking to you.”

She’s the CEO of my haters club—not that I blame her.

I’m also waiting for her to castrate me, per her threats.

As much as I want to defer the topic away from Archer, I can’t. He called last night and asked for a favor. I drove to his hiding place—our grandparents’ lake home—and prayed he decided to get his shit together. No such luck.

All the little prick did was hand me an envelope to give to Georgia. When I questioned what it was, he wouldn’t tell me. I had an urge to open it on the way home, but I didn’t. My brother might have thrown me smack dab in the middle of his mess, but I’m trying to distance myself from the situation.

And a mystery envelope isn’t my damn business.