Easy Innocence

Chapter 27

"My name's Pete Dellinger."

She swallowed her food. "Georgia Davis."

"Like the state?"

"You got a problem with the South?" But she grinned when she said it. He grinned back. Yes, it was a good smile.

He motioned to his glass. "Can I buy you one?"

She looked longingly at his beer. It had been a tough day, coming up against her nemesis. A beer would take the edge off. A lot more than Diet Coke. Probably make the burger taste better, too. She wanted it. Deserved it. Just this once. Anyway, it was free. The word tumbled out, almost of its own accord. "Sure."

He got up, went to the bar, and gave Owen the order. Owen dipped his head at Georgia, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. Owen shrugged and poured the beer into a glass. Pete brought it back.

"The bartender seems to know you. Do you come here often?"

The oldest line in the world and the guy said it with a straight face. She bit back a reply. "Yes," she said simply.

"I like it." He gazed around with a satisfied expression.

"Glad we have your approval." She lifted the glass of beer, hesitated, then took a long pull. Just like she remembered it. Frosty and tart with a grainy aftertaste that danced on her tongue. How long had it been? A year? Eighteen months? Damn. There was nothing like a cold brew. She set the glass down and stole a glance at the bar. Owen was watching her, hands on his hips. She looked away.

"So how do you like our building?" She focused on Pete.

"It's fine."

"Except when somebody spreads fish guts in the hall."

"I'm guessing there's a good story there."

Georgia took another long swallow. Half gone already. "I'm a private investigator," she began. Ten minutes and another beer later, she'd told him about the case. Again, she surprised herself. When she was on the force, she rarely talked to civilians about her cases.

Pete listened attentively-she had to give him that. Even though she left out some information, he didn't interrupt, something Matt used to do all the time. He'd claim he just wanted to understand, but it often felt like he was interrogating her. Pete nodded at all the right times and kept his mouth shut. When she was done, he leaned his elbows on the table.

"So what's your next step?"

"I'm not sure. Like I said, I have a theory, but not enough evidence." She finished off her beer.

"Want another?" He pointed to her empty glass.

She hesitated. She'd already downed two. A third would be asking for trouble. But he had to be on his fourth or even fifth by now. If he could handle it, so could she. "Okay."

He returned with their drinks and settled in, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. She wondered what was so amusing but felt too shy to ask. Instead she asked, "So what about you? Why did you move in?"

"My wife and I separated."

"Sheila," she murmured.

A flush crept up his neck.

"I heard you two arguing the other night," she added, remembering how quickly Sheila had exploded.

"Oh." The flush spread to his face. "Yeah. She came over."

"Sounds like she wants you back."

"She's... well..." He shook his head, flustered. "It's not gonna happen..." He looked over. "Let's not go there."

Georgia shrugged and took another bite of her burger. Pete watched with a curious expression.

She caught his look and pushed the food toward him. She wasn't hungry any more. Alcohol did that.

He frowned at the plate.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

He shook his head again.

She looked at him, then at her plate. "You're a vegetarian."

He shot her an embarrassed smile. "Will you still talk to me?"

"Hey, it's your life."

A vegetarian. Probably a "my body is my temple" guy. She sighed. How come she always ended up with the weird ones? Truth was, until Matt, her relationships with men had been limited. She'd only had sex with three men. They'd all been sweet, but slightly off: a software geek in high school, an accountant for a chain of pet stores a few years later, then Matt, who, for a cop, was bookish. She must have been sending out subtle signals: all nerds welcome.

She tossed back the rest of her beer. Ricki Feldman wouldn't do that, she'd lay odds. She'd set her sights on the richest, most handsome man in the room. And get him too. Georgia set her glass down carefully. Too carefully. The room was starting to wobble.

Pete's eyebrows arched. "You downed that one pretty fast."

"It's been a bad day."

"Aren't they all?" He asked a little sadly.

He was right. Everyone suffered. She wasn't so special. Why did she think she was? Suddenly, she couldn't think. Three beers and practically no food. What happened to her tolerance? She used to be able to toss back four or five with no problem. Now, her head felt too big and too far away from her body. She needed to lie down. She balled up her napkin, tried to pitch it on the table. She missed, and the napkin bounced onto the floor. She stood up unsteadily. "It's time for me to go."