She grabbed it out of his hand. “How did you know? I don’t even have a headshot in those books.”
The look in Chris’s blue eyes was genuine shock. “What?”
Even if she did believe he didn’t know what she was talking about, there were too many coincidences these last few days to be believed. “This is my book that I wrote about my grandfather. I’m G.V. Bale. Georgia Virginia Bale.”
A voice in the doorway had her turning in her tracks. Flynn. “You’re kidding me. I thought G.V. Bale was a man. You actually wrote Southern Tales? I can’t believe it.”
Georgia was in shock. “You read it too?”
Flynn frowned, insulted. “Of course I read it. We all did. It was our Christmas present from Nick. “
“Unbelievable.” Georgia wasn’t sure why she was so upset. Or why all these new doubts were swirling around in her mind. In the whole state of Colorado, she rescues and is rescued by three men who know Connie, know about her relationships, and offer Georgia a blissful night of her dreams. And to top it all off their dead brother had sent them her book for Christmas? She was expecting a hidden camera at any moment.
“Where’s my phone?” She rummaged through her bag, ignoring the two silent men and muttering to herself. There’d been no signal for the last few days, but the storm was over now. “I’m going to get Connie to tell me the truth. Did she tell you about me? Who I was? Was that why you were all so damn…” Perfect?
“What, Georgia?” For the first time since they’d met, Chris sounded angry. He stopped her from searching and turned her around to face him. “You told us you were a writer. We took you at your word that you weren’t hiding anything from us, because we didn’t hide anything from you. What is going on in that head of yours? Do you think we do this all the time? That we share our family traditions, ourselves with every tourist that passes through?”
She flinched. No, she didn’t. But it was Christmas. And she and Christmas had a steady track record of awful. Secretary flasher had only wanted to impress his co-workers with his published girlfriend. He’d admitted it himself. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before.
Chris let her go and shook his head. “You couldn’t have written that book, Georgia. That book is all about love and trust, family and magic. It was why Nick loved it. You don’t seem to believe in any of that.”
He walked out of the room, leaving Flynn standing in the doorway and her in the middle of the room, her book at her feet. She felt like she’d just been run through with a kitchen knife.
“He didn’t mean it, Georgia. He’s just hurt. He was already worried you’d wake up this morning saying last night was a mistake. Worried we’d pushed you too far. Maybe that because we all wanted you, we’d all lose you.”
She looked over her shoulder in time to see Flynn lean his head against the doorframe and sigh. “Was it a mistake, Georgia? Are you sorry?”
“I’m not sorry.” She wasn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to regret last night. It had been magical. “But he’s right too. I’m not the same person who wrote that book.”
That person wouldn’t push love away. Wouldn’t respond to kindness with mistrust. She would have remembered the lessons her grandfather had taught her. To embrace life, because it was short. To embrace love where you found it, because it was rare and precious.
Flynn pushed her hair behind her ear and dipped his head to meet her gaze. “I can see her in you, angel face. I think you’re more like her than you know.”
They heard a loud roar shake through the cabin, startling both of them. Flynn turned and headed to the den to look out the window. “Hell, that son of a bitch just flattened our snowmen.”
She watched him grab his jacket without any further explanation, joining his brothers outside.
Georgia grabbed the nearest pair of pants from her bag, hopping into them on her way to the door. She’d just gotten them zipped when the door opened again, the blast of cold air making her shiver.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Connie?”
She soon found herself smothered, face first into Connie’s more-bountiful-than-she-remembered breasts. “Only you would get marooned in a mountain cabin this far away from civilization your first trip ever out of the state of Louisiana. When you see what I had to ride in to come and get you, you’ll make me one of your Grandpa’s famous chocolate pecan pies as soon as we get home.”
Georgia wrapped her arms around herself as Connie guided her outside to see what a machine that looked like an armored tank from the future, a snowplow and an escalator made babies. “What is that thing?”
A dark haired man with a charming smile jumped out of the driver’s seat. “A snowcat. Owner at the lodge loaned it to me. His road’s been cleared,” he glanced at the men who had gathered around their fallen creations. “Sorry about the snowmen. I didn’t see them until it was too late. At least I bring good news. Your road should be cleared by tomorrow.”
Georgia bit her lip as the three men continued to stare at Simon, obviously making him feel awkward. He li
fted his eyebrows in confusion. “Okay, guys, I know I raised the prices a little this year, but I do have a growing family to feed. Besides, it’s sports equipment. It’s supposed to be expensive.” His gaze landed on Georgia’s with something akin to relief. “You must be Georgia. I’m Simon. Connie has been worried sick about you. Literally, if you ask Lee about it. She couldn’t wait another day.”
Was it bad timing or good? Was her holiday karma still going strong?
Chris turned and walked toward her. No. Toward Connie. “I told you she was fine, Connie. The last thing any of us want is for you to worry for no reason.”
Connie did something that, in Georgia’s memory, was very un-Connie-like. She started crying. “I know,” she sobbed. “I’m a nurse, I understand logically that it’s just hormones. But Georgia hasn’t had a Christmas since her grandfather died where she wasn’t a—“
“Connie,” Georgia interrupted, avoiding Chris’s penetrating blue eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m fine. They’ve been gracious hosts. More than gracious. So stop worrying.”