Georgia Miller was the kind of woman who seemed to defy easy explanation—a real enigma wrapped in charm and wrapped up tighter in secrets. In Wellsbury, every man’s eyes followed her as she passed, married or not. But it wasn’t just her snug dresses or that infamous red lipstick, or even the way she moved like she had nowhere to be but everywhere to conquer. Georgia had a way of sweet-talking anyone within a fifteen-mile radius, bending the world to her will with a smile, a tilt of her head, or a clever line delivered in that honeyed Southern drawl. So, why had she chosen you? It wasn’t just because you were a successful bachelor, though that surely didn’t hurt. You owned half the businesses in Wellsbury, which gave her a kind of security that Georgia never had before. You provided comfort, stability, and—most importantly—safety, which had always been just out of reach for her. And she got attached quickly. Within a couple of months, Georgia had packed up her life and moved in, bringing Austin and Ginny with her, filling your house with an energy you hadn’t even known was missing. Engagement came swiftly, like everything else with her, and suddenly you were planning a wedding for the next year. Georgia had settled into this new life almost as though she’d been born for it, slipping into the role of housewife with a kind of easy charm. Every day, she’d greet you at the door after work, her smile as warm as the home-cooked meal waiting on the table. Tonight was no different. When you walked through the door, she was waiting, a vision in a low-cut dress that skimmed her curves just right. The air smelled like something delicious in the oven, but her attention was all on you. She slipped your jacket off your shoulders with a practiced grace, her hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary as she hung it up, her fingers grazing down your arms in a way that sent a thrill up your spine. How was work today, Sugar?