That Kind of Girl (Fillmore & Greenwich Book 2) by Kate Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

thousand miles away." Georgina folded her arms. "Are you going to listen to what I want you to paint? Because you're wasting my time if you're not helping with the mural."
    "I told you I want you to tango with me."
    "Not a chance in hell."
    Talk about her garage , Giselle's voice prodded him.
    He frowned, not sure he wanted the help. "Why are you getting the mural?" he heard himself ask.
    She hesitated. Then she said, almost grudgingly, "My friend Sebastian came up with an idea for branding the garage to increase business. Part of it was the mural. It also includes an overhaul in here." She gestured around the dumpy waiting area.
    He nodded, getting it. "It's time to make it your own."
    "Yeah." Her sharp gaze turned on him. "It needs to get done in three weeks. Sebastian's set a date for a party. He wants to invite the neighborhood and local media and stuff."
    "That's smart." He stuck his hands in his pockets, refusing to feel guilty that he had no intention of doing her mural.
    "Poppy would have liked me to make it my own," Georgina said, almost to herself.
    "Poppy?"
    "My grandfather. It was his shop." She smiled softly. "I learned at his knee."
    He stared at her, stunned. Good God—when she smiled, she was stunning. Thank God she didn't smile more.
    Then her expression hardened. "This is what I'm into, not tango."
    He shrugged. "I don't believe it, and neither does your mom."
    Georgina threw her arms up. "That woman drives me crazy."
    "And your dad?"
    "He does whatever she wants to do," she replied bitterly.
    Out of the blue, he heard himself say, "My dad thought I was a pansy who needed to get his ass kicked to toughen me up."
    She was silent a moment, but then she said, "Your dad was an idiot."
    For some reason, that loosened something in his chest and made him smile. Giselle used to tell him that it was his family's loss that they didn't want to understand what he did for a living—their choice for not talking to him because he didn't do "man's work." It'd bothered him less over the years, but Georgina's instant defense made him happy.
    Because she understands you.
    Shut up , he told his wife. Then he remembered what that odd woman told him outside. "Do you want children?"
    Georgina wrinkled her nose. "Are you offering your sperm?"
    "Not if you don't dance with me."
    "Then, no."
    He smiled. "Do you know Esme?"
    Georgina whirled toward him. "You know Esme?"
    "I just met her."
    "She's crazy." Georgina poked him in the chest. "Don't listen to anything she says."
    "I figured she was crazy."
    Georgina looked at him strangely. "Why? What did she say?"
    He arched a brow. "Dance with me and I'll tell you."
    She rolled her eyes. "You're relentless."
    Taken over by a strange urge, he took her hand and then stepped back to open her into a volcada .
    He knew he had her at a disadvantage; she was in work boots rather than dancing shoes, and the move was meant to take her off-balance at first, with him as support, to give her space to find equilibrium again. It was a challenging move on its own, but taken by surprise and in the wrong footwear made it doubly hard.
    But she flowed right into it, her palm anchoring on his bicep instinctively so her weight didn't topple him. The closeness of her, the touch of her hand, was really . . .
    Nice.
    "I knew I should believe Siobhan when she said you were good," he said.
    She shoved him away as she stood upright, glaring. "I was good, but I don't dance any longer."
    "Why not?" He pulled her back, not ready for the dance to be over, wanting to grasp that elusive feeling he'd had with her in his arms.
    "Because." She arched her brow. "Why don't you do art?"
    Her question was like cold water thrown at his head. He dropped his arms and frowned at her, not because he didn't like her question but because he was oddly tempted to tell her his entire sob story.
    Arching her brow, she crossed her arms. "See? It's not so easy, is it?"
    It felt very easy, which was the problem. He lifted her chin. "Why are