Her hair hung in a veil around her face, but I could actually feel our chemistry in the air between us.
When I pulled her body flush with mine, she tipped her chin so that she could look straight into my eyes.
Her signature blue eyes were shining with emotion, but something else wasn’t right.
She was still beautiful, but her face—something was different. Her lipstick-smeared lips looked to be twice their normal size.
“Um, Georgia—”
“Georgie,” she corrected while looking up at me sweetly. She fluttered her lashes coyly, but I barely even noticed. I couldn’t look away from her mouth.
“Right. Georgie.” I steeled myself. “Listen, I know this is a weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to have had some light work done, would you?”
“Work?” she asked, oblivious.
“Yeah, you know. Work.”
She shook her head and smiled a little, clearly still in the fog from our kiss. I wished I was. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
I coughed to clear my throat and wiped the building sweat from my brow. This wasn’t a good idea. Asking women questions like this was never a good idea.
Maybe I should just pretend not to notice.
“Kline?”
Shit. Were they getting bigger?
“I don’t know,” I fumbled. “Some kind of lip filler that has a delayed reaction, maybe?”
“Wip fiwer?” She tried again, her nose scrunching with the effort. “Wip fiwer. Wipppp fiwer.”
Concern blanketed my face and hers turned distraught.
“Oh, sit. Sit sit sit.”
“Sit?”
“Not sit. Siiit.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Sit.”
“Ohhh,” I said in realization, picking her face up out of her hands to find her lips and the palms that had just touched them swelling at an alarming rate. “Shit, Georgie.”
“Exacwy.”
“What’s happening? What do I need to do?”
I moved to grab some ice out of my forgotten glass, and her eyes followed me and then widened exponentially.
“Sit, Kwine! Is where wime wuice in where?”
“Wime wuice?”
“Wime wuice!”
“Oh! Oh, yeah. Shit. Shit! Yeah, there’s lime juice in there.”
“I’m awerwic. I nee benedetto. Benedwetto. Sit! Benedwiwww.”
“Benadryl!” I shouted, victorious. Like it was some kind of game. She looked disgusted.
“Right. Sorry,” I apologized, turning my attention back to surveying her and putting my focus back on her health. “Jesus, it’s bad, Georgie. Do we need to go to the emergency room?”
“No.” She shook her head, eyes determined.
Her lips looked like cartoons. I panicked at the thought of her throat closing up with the same fervor.
“Please. Let me take you to urgent care or something.”
“No, Kwine. Wet’s wust wet ouw of hewre. Benedwiwww.”
“Right. Benadryl.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the elevator without looking back. No way was tonight going to go down in history as the night I fucking killed a woman with one kiss.
I shoved through the crowd that had gathered there without apology, and Georgia shielded her face from their scrutiny. The doors propped open with my foot, I ushered her in and hit the button for the lobby as fast as I could before holding the ‘close door’ button with excessive force. When they finally shut, I pulled Georgia’s gaze from the floor with a gentle finger at her chin.
“I’m so sorry, Georgie.”
“Is wit bwad?”
“It isn’t good,” I answered vaguely. “Please, let me take you to the hospital.”
“No,” she refused, taking some of the sting out of it by offering a smile. I mean, her mouth didn’t smile—it was too swollen—but there was visible happiness in her eyes. “I’m owkay. Pwomise. Wust nee Benedwiw.”
The doors opened on the ground floor, and I peeled out of there like a drag car, Georgie in tow.
“Swow down, Kwine,” she ordered, tugging on my hand and nearly tripping on her dress.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, knowing I wouldn’t be able to beat the panic back enough to slow down to her pace.
She smiled again, but it didn’t last long. It turned right into a shout when I swept her off of her feet and into my arms and took off at a jog again, dialing Frank as I did.
Two rings and he answered.
“Mr. Brooks?”
“I need you to meet us at the Rite-Aid on the corner!”
He wasn’t used to me shouting, but he sure as hell didn’t question it.
“Yes, sir.”
One look at Georgie’s face, and I started running faster.
For the first time in ten years, I didn’t have the first clue what I’d done with my phone after ending the call—and I didn’t care one bit.
“Here.” Kline slid back into the car and handed me a brown paper bag with what I could only assume was Benadryl.
“Tanks,” I whispered, offering a small smile.
He furrowed his brow, lips fighting a wince.
Shit. How bad is it?