Geronimo (A Songbird Novel) Read Free Page A

of Rye, and I would just like to welcome you.”
    I wrapped my fingers around his hand, noticing the quiet strength behind his grasp. “Hello, Harry. I’m Georjana Buford.”
    I have no idea what possessed me to use my full name. My mother was about the only person on the planet to ever refer to me as Georjana. I inwardly cringed, waiting for that standard look of pity.
    But Harry just grinned. “Ah, like the duchess.”
    I raised my eyebrows and nodded. “Almost. Slightly different spelling, but I think my mother had Georgiana Cavendish in mind when she named me. Not only does she teach history, but she’s a sucker for those royals.” I took a sip of my beer, liking the taste of it, hoping it’d numb the nerves bouncing around inside of me. I was talking to a strange man in a pub. I didn’t do that kind of thing.
    I licked my top lip, trying to decide if I should invite him to sit down or not.
    He was standing there, waiting for me, so I cleared my throat and smiled. “She’ll always be a proud patriot, I guess.”
    Harry’s eyes narrowed and he took a seat anyway, balancing his long body on the edge of the stool beside me. “You know, for a Brit, you have quite the American accent.”
    I chuckled. “My father’s American, and he met my mother when he moved here to start working at the American Embassy. I actually lived in London until I was fifteen.”
    “Yet you lost your accent?”
    “I’m sure it will return soon enough. It often does when I’m back here.”
    He smiled at me again, his gaze warm. His eyes were hazel—could have been brown or green depending on the light. There was a soft sparkle in them. It reminded me of Sarah. Some people just oozed kindness…and Harry was one of them.
    Comforted by my conclusion, I leaned my arms on the table, lightly threading my fingers together, aware of the missing ring on my fourth finger. It was nearly enough to send me running for my room, but something kept me grounded, gave me the courage to smile and ask, “So, Harry, what brings you to my table this evening?”
    “Oh! Uh, Dutch courage?” He chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I just saw you sitting over here and you looked lonely and then the song started playing and well…” He shrugged. “Geronimo, I suppose.” 
    “Geronimo.” I snickered, glancing at the stage. The song was coming to an end, the female backup singing, “Bombs away.” I bobbed my head and smiled.
    “So, uh, Georjana, what brings you to the little town of Rye?”
    “Jane.” My heart thrummed a wild beat as I tried to avoid the question. “Just Jane.”
    “Okay.” He grinned. “So, what brings you to my town, Just Jane?”
    I laughed at his quip, scratching my chin and being as vague as I could. “Self-discovery, I guess.”
    “Oh, really.” He leaned in to the table. “Well, that is intriguing.”
    The way his hazel eyes searched my face made me pull back. Leaning away from him, I forgot there was no back to my stool and started to wobble. He captured my arm, steadying me while I let out a breathy, embarrassed chuckle.
    “You all right?” He patted my elbow then let me go.
    I could still feel his fingers on me though. It made me realize how long it’d been since I’d been touched by a man.
    “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…” I cleared my throat and ran my finger beneath my long bangs, tucking them behind my right ear.
    “You’re not drunk already, are you? It’s only eight o’clock.”
    I laughed and shook my head, my skin no doubt glowing red. I hated my pale white skin and giveaway blush.
    Tapping the table, Harry turned and waved his finger at the bartender. She nodded and called, “I’ll bring you one in a sec, love.”
    Turning back with a friendly smile, he bumped my arm with his knuckle. “Tell me, how do you plan on discovering yourself? Is there a magic formula no one’s told me about?”
    “No. I wish.” I cringed and ran my finger round the lip of my mug. “I have