by Quint, Suzie
The Langley girls were known for being, well, unattractive, to put it kindly.
Ephram shook his head again.
His brothers all leaned in, like piranha about to attack. Georgia felt sorry for Ephram.
Ephram took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it. “I wasn’t gonna say anything yet. Her name’s Denise Montgomery.”
The name didn’t seem to ring any bells for anyone.
“She’s an Army recruiter. I been talkin’ to her about enlisting.”
Ephram’s announcement met pin-drop silence.
“Does Daddy know?” Zach finally asked.
“Hell with Daddy,” Sol said. “Does Mama know?”
Ephram shook his head.
“You serious about this?” Jake asked.
“Yup.”
The game was forgotten. Everyone wanted details. Georgia leaned back. Sol’s arm, which had been lying across the back of the couch, dropped onto her shoulder. He tugged her up against him as they listened to Ephram talk about basic training and where he might go after that. Georgia listened with interest. Before Sol had come up with the bright idea to get married, she’d toyed with the idea of enlisting herself. The prospect of seeing the world had appealed to her, but she’d worried she might end up someplace that was seriously less than fun.
Ephram’s definition of a fun place clearly didn’t match hers. He thought a war zone would be interesting. Since he hoped to qualify as an airborne ranger, a war zone smacked of being more than possible, but he wanted to do something with his life that had meaning. Georgia sympathized.
Sol’s fingers toyed with Georgia’s hair, curling a strand around his finger, letting it fall, then curling it again. She turned her head to look at him. The soft smile on his lips pulled an answering smile from her.
“Who needs another beer?” Maddie asked as she came back into the room from checking on her children.
Georgia pulled out her phone and saw it was after one o’clock. She hated to tear herself away, but her parents wanted to go to church in the morning. She apologized for not being able to stay longer and said her good-byes.
Sol stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”
She knew better than to argue. Their mother had ingrained chivalrous behavior into all the McKnight boys.
Outside, before she could open the car door, Sol wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“So am I. It was fun.” She turned in his arms. “I can’t believe Ephram’s joining the Army.”
Sol shook his head. “Mama’s going to have a fit.”
Georgia wasn’t so sure. She thought Ephram’s mama might burst with pride. In between bouts of worrying herself sick. “And what about Gideon?” Georgia asked. “Is he psychic?”
“Beats me.” His fingers were drawing distracting little circles on her lower back. “Maybe it depends on what you mean by ‘psychic.’ He can’t read minds, but sometimes . . .” He shrugged.
“Sometimes what?”
“He knows stuff. Like with Maddie and Zach’s baby. He’s like Granny McKnight that way.”
“Your granny knew stuff like that?”
“Yeah. She called it second sight. She actually saw things, though. I don’t think Gideon does. He just . . . knows stuff. It creeps me out sometimes.”
Georgia laughed. “Is he always right?”
“No.” Sol said firmly. He looked at her through appraising eyes. “The other day, he said—” His lips abruptly clamped shut.
“What? What did he say?”
Sol shook his head. “Never mind.” He tugged her close. Being in his arms felt snug and comfortable. “So . . . Truth or dare?” he said softly into her hair.
Georgia pulled back to look up at him. It had been a fun evening, and she didn’t want to end it on a sour note. “Dare.”
One of Sol’s eyebrows twitched as though he was amused by her choice. “Kiss me good night.”
“What? You don’t want me to stand on one foot in my underwear, clucking like a chicken?”
“Naw. If I get you down to your underwear, it won’t be to have you doing any stupid bird imitations. Now stop evading and kiss me good night.”
That she could do. With pleasure.
Chapter Twelve
Georgia actually looked forward to grocery shopping since she’d come home. It got her out of the house and gave her an hour or so away from her family. She could let her mind blank out everything but the can of green beans in her hand, her toughest decision, which brand to buy. It was almost like a vacation. Except when it wasn’t.
Today, it wasn’t.
Her mother had woken up more petulant than usual. For whatever reason, she’d seemed intent on taking her ill temper out on Grams. She hadn’t needed words to get her message across. The frowns, the sharp movements, the throwing—okay, so it had only been a biscuit. Still, the message that she was not a happy camper had come through loud and clear.
If one of her third graders had behaved as badly as her mother, Georgia would have labeled it a temper tantrum and called the child’s parents to discuss the offensive deportment. Since that wasn’t an option, she decamped and headed for the grocery store, taking Grams with her.
And discovered that grocery shopping with Grams was an adventure all its own.
Her route home took them past The Lariat. Missy was heading for the bar’s front door, walking like a pissed-off woman on a mission.
Poor Tommy.
Georgia cast a quick glance at her grandmother, whose nose was buried in the latest issue of one of the newsstand tabloids, before jerking the steering wheel and turning into the parking lot. This is none of my business. But she knew too well what it was like to have your heart breaking and no moral support.
“Are we stopping for a drink?” Grams sounded pleased by the prospect.
“No, Grams. I just need to talk to someone real quick. It won’t take a minute. You wait here for me, okay?” Georgia got out of the car, knowing it was a long shot that Grams would stay put. She was right. Grams dropped her magazine like it was last week’s news and followed Georgia into the bar.
The crowd was thin, but everyone had ceased what they were doing to watch the drama play out. Georgia stopped before she got too close, her sense of self-preservation warning her to keep some distance in case glassware started flying. Whatever had Missy wound up, she’d wasted no time tearing into Tommy.
“You are such a loser, Tommy Mulligan! I can’t believe I stayed with you for so long.”
“C’mon, Missy. Be reasonable. I only—”
“I’m your wife!” Missy screeched. “How could you embarrass me like that?”
Tommy’s eyes flashed and his jaw set. “Fine time for you to remember that. If I got a wife, how come I’m sleeping alone?”
“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you weren’t crap in bed!”
Georgia winced. Geez, why didn’t Missy just get a knife and castrate him?
The muscles in Tommy’s jaw flexed. “You best get outta here before I forget that I don’t hit women.”
“Fine. But you fix this, or you’ll be talking to my lawyer.” She turned on her high-heeled, sling-back, slut shoes and stalked out the door.
Tommy glared after her. When the front door slammed behind her, he threw his bar towel down. “Burke, watch the bar for me, wouldja?” He didn’t wait for an answer before heading out the back door.
Should she follow him or let him be? Georgia sighed. She had Tin Roof Sundae ice cream, Gram’s favorite, in the car, but if she didn’t show him her support now, it might be days before she saw him again. She started to follow him out. When she realized Grams was on her heels, she turned around.
“Grams, why don’t you wait here?” Georgia turned toward Burke, who wasn’t on the bar’s payroll but who’d been a regular since Moses was a pup. “Would you get my grams whatever she wants?”
“Not a problem,” Burke said. He ran a hand over his head, smoothing hair th
at no longer existed. “Any chance she’s a cougar? I been looking for a sexy older woman to keep me.” He winked boldly at Grams, confirming what Georgia had always suspected: he was genetically incapable of not flirting with any woman between twelve and a hundred and twelve. “What’s you’re poison, darlin’?”
Grams smiled back and climbed on a barstool. “Can you make me one of those fun-sounding drinks? Something like Sex on the Beach or a Fuzzy Screw?”
Georgia gaped. No one should ever have to hear those words from their grandmother’s mouth.
Grams noticed Georgia still there and waved a dismissive hand. “You go ahead, honey. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to go.”
Georgia shook her head, trying to shake loose the images her grandmother had planted in there, and followed Tommy out the back door. She found him leaning against the building, one leg cocked against the wall, a cigarette palmed in one hand.
“Hey, Tommy.”
The scowl on his face cleared a little when he realized it was her. “Hey, Georgia.”
Now that she was there, she didn’t know what to say, so she leaned back against the building beside him while he smoked.
About halfway through the cigarette, he flicked it away. “She wasn’t like that in the beginning. Or if she was, I didn’t see it.”
“You were in love.”
“Yeah. Apparently, I was the only one.”
“What did you do that set her off?”
He grimaced. “I canceled our credit cards.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Wait ‘til she sees tomorrow’s classifieds.”
Georgia cocked an eyebrow at him.
“My lawyer advised me to run a legal announcement that I ain’t responsible for any of her bills.”
Georgia winced. “That’s it, then. She’ll either come back home, or she’ll hire a hit man.”
Tommy shook his head slowly. “I changed the locks, too.”
“Oh.” They were silent for a while. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”
“Me, too. I just wish I didn’t still want her.” He tilted his head. “At least, I think I still want her.”
Georgia understood only too well. “You’re lucky you don’t have kids.”
“Yeah. Lucky. That’s me.” He didn’t look comforted. “Now if she’d only left me a little pride, I’d be set.” He sighed and shook another cigarette out of the pack. “I blew it, didn’t I? I mean, this whole chasing-around thing might have run its course. She might have come back if I hadn’t cut off the money.”
Georgia wanted to shake him and tell him not to be a chump, but she also understood. The heart didn’t listen to reason.
“Damn.” He was silent a moment as he stared at the Dumpster at the corner. “You remember that old song? The one that goes ‘I Want a Girl Just Like the Girl that Married Dear Old Dad’? I wasn’t looking for that, but I think I got her.”
Georgia nodded but stayed silent. Tommy had been raised by his father because, when they were in fourth grade, his mama had run off with a trucker from Tennessee. It looked like Tommy was another victim of repetition compulsion. It was all around her. How had she never noticed it before?
“Georgia . . .” He flipped the unlit cigarette in his fingers. “I know you already said no, but are you sure you wouldn’t consider . . .”
She looked at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You still want revenge.”
“Yeah . . . Revenge.” He stopped flipping the cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. “Ah, hell.” He blew out a stream of smoke. “It was never about revenge. Well, maybe a little. Mostly, it’s about jealousy. Or maybe ego. It’s about finding out if I meant anything to her.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “If I ever meant anything to her.”
She watched him in silence. It hurt her heart, the way he was trying so hard to not care.
“If I knew for sure she’d cared once, even a little, maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a goddamn loser. Maybe I could let her go and get on with things.”
Georgia put her hand on his shoulder. “You really think it would help?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t stand feeling this way anymore. I gotta do somethin’, even if it’s wrong.” He took another deep draw on his cigarette until the cherry glowed bright red. “Help me. Please.”
Georgia couldn’t suppress a wave of sympathy. If Sol had walked out on her and started dating way back when, she’d have felt as bad as Tommy did. Even now, Sol never rubbed her nose in it, not the way Missy did with Tommy. Georgia never knew who Sol dated unless someone else told her.
Maybe that was why knowing Sol had dated Missy bothered her so much. She wasn’t proud that the knowledge gave Tommy’s proposition extra appeal.
She watched him hot-box his cigarette then flick away the stub. His slouched shoulders told her the conclusion he’d drawn from her silence, and it made her feel like a pretty lousy friend.
She drew a deep breath. This was where the rubber met the road. Maybe it was watching him go through all this crap with Missy, but she felt a bond with Tommy, as though they shared a common experience. She felt almost big sisterly toward him because she’d been, if not exactly where he was, close enough to know how bad he was hurting. A real friend would do whatever he needed to get past the pain. So was she his friend or not?
“Okay,” she said before she could talk herself out of it.
Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ll do it? You mean it?” He didn’t give her the chance to answer before he grabbed her and spun her around. When he set her back on her feet, he kissed her forehead. “You ain’t got any idea how grateful I am.”
She grinned at him, his obvious joy making her glad she’d agreed. “I’ve got to tell Sol, though. If we don’t, he’ll come after you like a fire-breathing dragon.”
Tommy’s mouth quirked, but his eyes still shone. “Ah, don’t do that. He might tell Missy it’s a sham.”
Georgia hadn’t considered that.
“And if he comes after me, well, that’ll just convince Missy it’s real.”
“Yeah, it’ll look real when Sol gives you a black eye and knocks out some teeth.”
Tommy laughed. “I can handle Sol.”
“Maybe.” Tommy still had the linebacker build, but Georgia didn’t need the added frustration. “I’m still going to tell him. That’s my price for doing this.”
Tommy reluctantly agreed. He wanted to start planning right there, but Georgia thought about the melting ice cream and Grams sitting at the bar, drinking her sexy drink and—gak!—flirting with Burke. She told Tommy to call her later.
“Just like a real date,” Tommy said, looking almost happy.
###
Sol wiped the sweat from his forehead and climbed off the bumper of the old ‘48 truck they used for hauling stock locally. He’d finally found the hole in the radiator, but it was just his luck that it was too big to fix. Finding a replacement was going to be a bitch, but maybe he’d ask Daisy to look on the Internet. He headed for the house, but the sound of pounding hooves and excited whoops drew him to the arena where Daisy trained her horses.
By the time he got there, the action was over. Daisy was holding the head of the horse as Eden dismounted. Even with her latest growth spurt, Eden’s legs were still short of the ground, so she had to kick her foot free from the stirrup and free-fall. She caught sight of her daddy leaning against the rail fence and ran to him, her pigtails trailing behind where the cowboy hat didn’t hold them down.
“Did you see, Daddy? Did you see?”
“I just got here, honey. You been riding that old plug for Daisy?”
“Spitfire’s not a plug. She’s a great horse. You should see her turn.” His daughter spun and raced back to Daisy. “Can I do it again? Can I? Please. I want to show Daddy!”
He couldn’t help grinning at her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so excited.
Daisy laughed, her eyes shining. “Sure.” She led the horse to the mounting block ne
ar the gate. “Jump on.”
Sol moved down the fence, closer to Daisy.
Eden held the reins with a firm hand. When Daisy said, “Go!” Eden kicked the horse’s flank. Spitfire jumped forward. They turned tight around the first barrel, his daughter holding herself upright to counterbalance as the horse laid into the turn then leaning forward to urge her on to the next barrel. He thought Spitfire’s legs might go out from under her on the next barrel, but the mare’s powerful hindquarters bunched and pushed her forward. The barrel rocked but didn’t go over, and they were off like a bullet to the last one. Another tight, fast turn and a burst of speed as they came out of it.
“Christ!” Sol breathed. “You clocked this horse yet?”
Daisy shook her head as she stepped forward to hold the horse while Eden dismounted. “I just threw the barrels up. I need to get ‘em spaced right before time’ll mean anything.”
“This is the horse Aunt Del sent your way, ain’t it?”
Daisy nodded.
It didn’t surprise Sol that their Aunt Delilah could spot a potentially good barrel racer. She’d only spent the past twenty years training horses. “Tell me again why she didn’t snap this horse up for herself.”
“‘Coz her dance card’s already full,” Daisy smirked. “Only so many hours in the day, y’know.”
Sol shook his head in amazement at Daisy’s luck. “Her loss is your gain, then. I think you may have a winner on your hands, Sis.”
Daisy grinned over her shoulder at him. “I think so, too.”
Eden’s feet barely touched the ground as she bounced over to him. In one breath, she said, “Aunt Daisy says she’s got to run Spitfire at some rodeos, so folks can see her, but she’d rather train than ride.”
Sol wasn’t surprised. The best trainers were perfectionists. Training allowed them to focus on form instead of pushing the horse for speed the way you had to do in competition.
“I want to ride her,” Eden said, “but Daisy says you have to give me permission. Can I, Daddy? Please, please, please?”
Sol grinned back at his daughter. Then it sank in what she was asking, and he felt his face drop. He looked over at Daisy. “I thought Leah was going to ride your horses.”
