The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland

“Take these,” I said.

“Thank you.” She swallowed the pills and chugged some water.

“Are you hungry? I brought some chicken soup.”

Georgia shook her head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite at all today. But maybe I’ll force myself to eat some in a bit, when I’m done loving on this little guy.”

She dug her nails into Four’s head, and he nuzzled against her chest. With his head in her cleavage, the little furball glanced back in my direction. I could’ve sworn he was gloating.

Yeah, I am jealous, you little shit.

I grabbed the other bag I’d brought and sat beside Georgia on the couch.

“There’s an old record store next to the pharmacy I stopped at. The sign in the window said they also sold movies, but the pickings were pretty slim.” I reached into the bag and pulled out two of the three movies I’d bought. “This one is silent, and this one isn’t. I didn’t know if you preferred one over the other.”

Georgia’s mouth hung open. “Black and white? How did you know I loved old movies?”

“You mentioned it the night we met.”

“I did?”

I nodded. “I think it was when you were telling me how little you had in common with your blind date.”

“I don’t even remember that.”

I shrugged. “I also got this one.”

Georgia took the movie from my hand, laughing. “The Phantom Menace? Didn’t you tell me this one is the worst of all the Star Wars movies?”

“It is. But I was hoping maybe it would bring me luck again.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

Georgia smiled. “You’re going to try to feel me up when I’m sick?”

I held up my hands. “I wasn’t going to, but if that’s what the powers that be wanted…”

She laughed and then grabbed her throat. “Oww… Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

Damn, her smile made my chest feel funny. I wondered if I might be coming down with something, too.

Georgia held Four up in the air, smiling at his tiny face. “I can’t believe this little guy is your dog. He’s so freaking cute. What you must look like walking the streets with him. Do you even notice the women fainting as you pass?”

When I smiled, she pointed to my cheeks. “Put those things away, Yearwood. I’m weak. Flashing those dimples isn’t playing fair.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled more, making sure to showcase what she apparently liked.

Georgia stroked Four’s head. “I’m surprised your party ended so early. It’s barely nine o’clock.”

I shook my head. “It’s not over. I just ducked out for a little while.”

“You left your own birthday party?”

I shrugged. “There’s plenty of food and booze. Most of them won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I cannot believe you left your own birthday party to come nurse me.”

I leaned to her. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What?”

“I only threw the party so you’d come anyway.”

Georgia stopped petting Four. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “It didn’t work out too well, did it?”

“I don’t quite get you, Max Yearwood.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to be able to walk into a room full of beautiful, single women and cozy up to almost anyone you want. So why are you over here risking getting sick for someone who comes with a truckload of baggage?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We can’t control chemistry, I guess. Can you honestly say you don’t feel anything when we’re near each other?”

“I’m attracted to you, yes. I’ve admitted that.”

“Chemistry is more than an attraction. I want to spend time with you, even if it’s just sitting here right now.”

She studied me. She still seemed to be trying to figure out if I was feeding her a line of shit. I’m not sure if she made it to a final conclusion on the subject, because she suddenly started sneezing. Not once, not twice, but at least a dozen times. Each time, the pile of chestnut hair on top of her head bounced around and jerked back and forth. She reached forward to the coffee table, grabbed a box of tissues, and buried her face in them until she finally stopped.

“God bless you,” I said.

“Thank you.” Her nose and mouth were still covered when she looked over the tissues with watery eyes. “Still feeling that chemistry?”

I grinned. “I do find the way your bun flops back and forth kinda cute.”

She laughed and blew her nose. “You’ve taken one too many sticks to the head, Pretty Boy.”

“Maybe.” I felt Mother Nature calling, so I looked around the room. “Is it alright if I use your bathroom?”

Georgia pointed to a hallway. “Of course. First door on your right.”

After I relieved myself and washed my hands, I turned to find a hand towel. But the bar that usually had one was filled with something else. Thongs. Lace ones. Two black, two cream, and a red. I stared down at them longer than was likely appropriate. For a few seconds, I might’ve even wondered if she would notice one missing. But then I dried my hands on my pants and forced myself to exit the bathroom like a respectable human being.