When Georgia finally stepped out of the restaurant, the warm evening breeze brushed against her skin. The air smelled faintly of grilled food and car exhaust. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement as her eyes searched for the familiar black car.
Troy stood just outside the driver's side, his arms folded loosely as he leaned against the vehicle. He looked up the moment he heard her footsteps.
Maybe he got tired of sitting, she thought to herself.
She walked toward him, the sound of her heels slowing a little. “I apologize,” she said, her tone calm. “I took quite a lot of time, didn’t I?”
Troy straightened up quickly, like a soldier caught off guard. “Not at all, Ma’am.”
Georgia gave him a long look, one brow slightly raised, as if she didn’t believe him. Then she nodded slowly.
