“Still, I feel bad,” Georgie said. “I feel like we’re coming into your house and messing everything up.”
“Like we did to your house?” he said, glancing at her with a grin.
“Yeah, exactly like that. Speaking of which, should we be putting up posters for Jezebel, or canvassing the neighborhood or something? I’m sure Dottie’s beside herself with worry.”
“I’ll put up some posters tomorrow,” he said, “but trust me when I say word of mouth will be more powerful than any poster. It took Finn all of five minutes to come over.” His mouth flattened at the thought.
“True,” she said, “and I can’t imagine it would be easy to spot a black cat in the dark.” She paused, as if weighing her words, and said, “I feel like we should talk some more about Finn…”
He grimaced. “If we’re turning off the rest of the world off tonight, Georgie, I especially want to turn off Finn.”
It had become dark suddenly, as if night were a blanket that had been lowered on them. Or maybe it only seemed sudden since his attention had been so fixed on Georgie and the horrors unfolding around them.
He parked in the alley, grateful his usual space was open, something that had become increasingly rare as Asheville became a more popular spot for tourists. No sign of Maisie’s Jeep.
They both got out, and he looked at Georgie over the hood of the car.
“What would you like to bring inside?” he asked.
She smiled. “Just the fully intact one will do,” she said. “In fact, we can probably go ahead and throw the other two away.” She nodded at a dumpster midway through the alley.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You might want to go through them yourself to make sure there’s nothing you want in there. One of them had a bunch of burst bottles of shampoo or something inside, so I didn’t poke around too much.”
“I’m feeling impulsive,” she said. “Let’s throw them away. Boston is done.”
The finality with which she said it surprised him, and it rubbed him the wrong way a little. Like someday she might say that about Asheville and her chapter at Buchanan Brewery. About him.
But his mind was running away from him again, and the excitement shining in her eyes was infectious, so he opened the back seat and pulled out one of the bags, the green one, its plastic corpse jutting out in jagged angles.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
She grabbed the other bag, and they hauled them to the dumpster, which smelled like hot garbage always smelled, except maybe riper. Like it had been left to ferment. Of course, River wasn’t sure he smelled a whole lot better. Smoke and sickly sweet punch did not make for a good combination, but it hadn’t repulsed Georgie yet.
“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,” she said, laughing a little as they came to a stop in front of it. “That smell is wilting my sails.”
“No,” he said as he set down the green bag on a clean patch of concrete. “We have to do it now. We’ve come too far.” Scrunching his nose dramatically, he lifted the lid of the dumpster and flipped it open.
The smell instantly became ten times worse.
Georgie shoved the bag in her hands at him. “I think you should do the gentlemanly thing.”
“I opened the dumpster, didn’t I?” he said, but he took it from her anyway, hefting it up and in. It landed with a squishing sound, sending up another waft of stink.
“Hurry,” Georgie said, lifting the green bag and handing it to him, “here’s the other.”
He hefted that one in too, and it landed on the first. But before he could close the lid of the dumpster, a foot-long rat scurried out of the opening, almost running across his hand.
He jumped back, making a sound of alarm—his ego prevented him from thinking of it as a scream—and Georgie did the same. They hurried toward his building without shutting the dumpster, running as fast as if the rat were chasing them, and when they got to his doorstep they exchanged a look and burst out laughing.
“Did that feel as inspirational to you as it did to me?” he asked.
“You bet,” she said as he got out his key, glancing back to make sure the rat hadn’t actually followed them, “but we’re both going to need to wash our hands at least twenty times before I let you touch me.”
“Deal.” He turned the key in the lock, his mouth ticking up at the thought that surfaced. “Good thing I don’t need to touch you to kiss you.”
Opening the door, he leaned in to do just that, his lips finding Georgie’s as they stumbled into the loft together. He instantly felt the energy, the connection he always felt with her.
Except Maisie was sitting at the table with a couple of takeout bags, and Hops ran up to him with a frantically wagging tail and started to sniff his pants in an overly interested way that confirmed he very much needed a shower. As soon as possible.
He pulled away from Georgie, mood deflated by Maisie’s sour, disapproving expression as much as by the fact that she had clearly ignored his message. What was it with his friends today? Why did everyone but his aunt want to stand in his way?
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Maisie said in an airy tone that probably didn’t convince Georgie and certainly didn’t convince River.
“Didn’t you get my message?” he asked. He studiously ignored Hops, who had started licking his shoe.
“Well, yes, plus about ten texts from Finn. And Beau’s neighbors have started a group on Nextdoor for citizens concerned about Jezebel’s escape.”
Which was exactly why he’d made a point of turning off his phone earlier. He didn’t want to deal with any of that tonight, or ever really.
He shot an apologetic look at Georgie. She smiled at him, but this wasn’t her natural, warm smile. She was struggling for this one. Plus, she was clearly embarrassed they’d been caught. Again.
“I told you I’d go into all of the gory details tomorrow, Maisie. Georgie and I have had a long night, and we’re both tired.”
Maisie gave him a look that said she knew exactly what tired was code for. “I know, which is why I brought you takeout. Surely you’re both hungry after your ordeal.”
He glanced at Georgie again. “Hey,” he said, “you want to go wash your hands in the bathroom? I’ll use the sink out here.”
He could have invited her to take a shower, but he still hoped to do that with her. And he also didn’t want to embarrass her in front of Maisie.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” she said. “Nice to see you again, Maisie.” Then she took off almost as fast as they’d retreated from that rat. It wouldn’t take her long to wash her hands, but from the look in her eyes she knew what he really wanted—a moment to convince Maisie to leave, or to shove her out the door if she wouldn’t go peacefully. She’d give him the time he needed.
River headed to the kitchen sink and washed his hands thoroughly before stooping to pick up Hops—still going at his shoes—and carrying him over to the table.
“What gives?” he asked. “I get that you and Finn don’t approve, but I’m not some lost puppy or project. Not anymore. You guys don’t get to decide for me. I’ve finally met someone I like—really like—and it feels like everyone keeps thinking of reasons I shouldn’t be happy.”