by Quint, Suzie
Lost in her own thoughts, she followed him into the house. When she looked up to see him offering her the mayonnaise jar of flowers, she forced herself back to the present. She took the flowers and set them on the counter.
“You got any beer in your fridge?” she asked. “We need to talk.”
She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
###
He should have gone straight home after he dropped Eden and his share of the younger McKnights off at his parents’, but Sol was too restless, so he hit the back roads for some late-night thinking.
Damn but he’d been a fool tonight. What was it about Georgia that brought out his inner numbskull? He’d baited Tommy as if he were one of Georgia’s Dallas boyfriends who didn’t know anything about Georgia’s ex except that she said he was crazy. Nor was Tommy some big-city bozo whose gonads shrank when they realized they were dealing with a bull rider (proving, at least to their testosterone-starved pea brains, that Georgia’s assessment of his sanity was spot on.) What in the world had made him think he could get away with pulling his usual tricks on Tommy, who’d known Sol since first grade?
Somehow in his wanderings, he ended up on Georgia’s road. He slowed as he drove past. The movie had been over for more than an hour. She should have been home, but where was her tin can?
Sol’s stomach tightened.
It stayed tight all the way to Tommy’s, where he pulled up on the opposite side of the street to stare at Georgia’s car.
A light was on in the front room, which meant—maybe—that they weren’t in the bedroom. Sol didn’t find much comfort in that.
Was he too young to have a heart attack? He’d heard it felt like an elephant sitting on your chest, and that was exactly how he felt.
Gideon’s assertion that Georgia would remarry soon flitted through his mind. Ruthlessly, he shoved it away. She wouldn’t marry Tommy. She couldn’t. His insistence didn’t banish the ache in his chest.
Aw, Georgie. Don’t do this.
The urge to go pound on Tommy’s door and drag Georgia out of his lair was almost overpowering, but he’d already screwed up enough tonight. If he tried to stop whatever was going on, Georgia would dig her feet in and keep seeing Tommy just to show her ex that he didn’t own her.
He wanted to stay, needed to see Georgia walk out before Tommy turned out the lights, but what if she didn’t? He really would have a coronary. The junk food he’d eaten at the drive-in felt like it wanted to come back up.
Stop this. You keep torturing yourself like this, you’ll do something really stupid. Go home.
So he did, but his heart hurt like it hadn’t since that day twelve years ago when he’d come home to an empty trailer and figured out that Georgia had left him.
Chapter Sixteen
For a few seconds, Georgia thought Tommy might cry. Oh, man up. The thought surprised her. She had expected to feel more sympathy. Then again, she had no clue what to do with a weepy man. Girly tears were so undignified. They wouldn’t suit Tommy at all.
She was about to reach out and pat him on the shoulder, awkward as that would be, when his expression changed. Emotions flashed over his face, one replacing another so rapidly, she couldn’t pin them down quickly enough to name them. At the end of the emotional slide show, he surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing.
She’d been sitting on the edge of his couch, ready to cut and run, but with his laughter, some of the tension drained away. She sat a little more firmly on the seat, pasted a tentative smile on her face, and waited.
“So you slapped her with my wet shirt, huh?”
She nodded.
He grabbed a fistful of his shirt at the collar and tucked in his chin to look down at it. “This shirt’s been through a lot tonight. I may have to have it bronzed.”
A little more tension flowed out of her, and she settled back further. “I’m glad you’re not upset with me.”
“Upset with you? Why would I be upset? You did exactly what I hoped you’d do. You got a reaction out of her.”
“So what now?” She adjusted again, tucking one foot under her.
Tommy released a long, satisfied sigh. “I don’t know yet, but I feel . . .” A deep breath, drawn and released. “A little more free. I was a fool for her, but maybe I can let it go now.”
She understood. It would take him a while to think through the things she’d told him, to internalize the knowledge he now had. Maybe he’d relapse and maybe he wouldn’t, but even if he did, he wouldn’t fall all the way down that hole of doubt and insecurity. Crawling out the next time would be a little easier. She was glad she’d been able to give him that.
Tommy took her hand in his and squeezed. “You’re a good friend, Georgia.”
“Thanks.”
“But ya gotta stop picking fights with other women.”
“Wha—?” Then she saw the glint in his eye. “Okay, I deserved that. Maybe we were both a little out of control tonight.”
“Well, you maybe. I was in perfect control. I, after all, walked away a winner. You ran like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.”
She wasn’t about to let him get away with that. “You walked away with blood dripping down your face. I didn’t have a mark on me.”
“Because you ran.”
“And because I wasn’t wearing four-inch heels.”
They laughed together. As their laughter cycled down, he bounced their still-clasped hands lightly against her thigh, and suddenly, his hand holding hers didn’t feel so chummy.
Before she could find a genteel way to withdraw, he pulled her into his arms. Her body went stiff then relaxed. It was only a hug. Friends could hug. She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him back. After a few seconds, he loosened his grip, and she drifted away. She answered the smile on his face with one of her own.
See? she told herself. Friends.
Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Oh, hell.
If his arms had been made of galvanized steel, he might have been able to hold on to her, but the next thing she knew, she’d shot to her feet, leaving him alone on the couch, his arms still shaped for an embrace.
“Oh. Wow. Would you look at the time?” She scanned the room, searching for a clock. There wasn’t one. “I’ve really got to get home. My daddy—” She choked off the excuse, mortified that she’d almost implied that she, a grown woman and mother of one, had a curfew. Her face felt like an open flame. “I’ve got to go,” she said again.
Tommy appeared to be fighting off a smirk. “Here. Don’t forget your purse.”
She took the bag from him, slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Thanks. It was fun. We should—” What? Do it again? Not in this lifetime. She started for the door.
“And your flowers,” Tommy said. “Don’t forget your flowers.”
He brought them to her from the kitchen, mayonnaise jar and all.
She tucked the jar inside the curve of her left arm. “Thanks.” She had the urge to shake his hand, but she beat it down. “See ya,” she called back as she fled down his front steps.
It was all she could do not to gun the engine and leave a strip of rubber from the tires, a feat some would have said couldn’t be done in a Kia.
###
Don’t think about Georgia was the advice Sol gave himself the next morning. Just stay busy, don’t think about her, and pretend your heart isn’t bleeding into your chest cavity.
Part of him regretted not staying to see when she left Tommy’s, but knowing would complicate things since he’d decided to focus on the night she’d spent with him not so long ago. She couldn’t get serious about Tommy that quickly. The argument made sense to his head; convincing his heart wasn’t so easy.
So stop thinking about her, he told himself again.
Following that advice was how he found himself standing at the paddock railing, stopwatch in hand, timing his daughter as she ran the barrels Daisy had set up.
He knew what dedic
ation looked like. He saw it every day. His mama was dedicated to raising strong, moral, independent children. His daddy was dedicated to providing for that family. Like Sol himself, his little brother Levi was dedicated to becoming a bull rider. Daisy was dedicated to the horses she loved.
So he didn’t think he was just being a proud parent when he thought they all took a backseat to Eden’s dedication to training with Spitfire.
He wondered where it came from. Was it because she knew Georgia could put an end to it so easily? Or maybe this was the first thing Eden really wanted where she’d met encouragement.
It didn’t matter.
Eden clearly loved it. And she was falling in love with Spitfire.
Even a blind man could see it. It was there in the way she talked to the mare when she was grooming her, the way she stroked her neck between runs without thinking about it, and the way she was out in the stables almost before she’d wiped the sleep from her blue eyes.
Sol wanted to warn her: love hurts. But he knew she wouldn’t listen. His attempts to get her to spread her affection to some of the other horses had met with limited success. She was a McKnight, so she liked horses in general, but Spitfire was fast becoming the only horse she really saw.
His daughter was tenderhearted, and Sol didn’t want to see her heart broken. Not yet. Not so young.
Daisy was clear about her master plan: get a few horses trained so they performed well and start selling them to serious barrel racers. If everything went according to Daisy’s plan, Spitfire would belong to someone else in less than a year. Eden didn’t need to be grieving over a damned horse when she was trying to adjust to a stepdaddy. Sol shook his head in a futile attempt to shake off his sense of impending doom and focused on his daughter.
The seriousness Eden displayed in the arena made her look older, as if she were growing up in time-lapse photography. It caused a bittersweet pinch in Sol’s chest. She was only ten, but in flashes, he saw a young woman tearing away the cocoon of girlhood. How could he possibly be responsible for the existence of this miracle?
Georgia could be mad at him until the day he died; he’d learn to live with that as long as he could give his daughter her shot.
She rounded the last barrel, leaving it rocking, and raced toward him. He clicked the stopwatch.
“How was it, Daddy?” she asked when she’d stopped Spitfire next to him.
“It was good.” Sol nodded his approval. “You were off center on that last barrel.”
She made a face and patted the horse’s neck. “I know. I wasn’t ready when Spitfire came out of that turn.”
“She came out of it too soon because you were off balance. Why don’t you put her up,” Sol said, “and we’ll go work on that?”
“‘Kay.”
Sol helped her brush Spitfire down, then they headed for the barn. When he pulled the blue tarp off the mechanical bull, Eden said, “You want me to ride Toro?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Mama’ll have a fit.”
Don’t think about Georgia, he told himself firmly. Think of her as some woman Eden has to answer to.
He didn’t want to encourage her to lie to her mother. Condoning that could bite him in ass in more ways than one, so he didn’t say, “We won’t tell her.” Instead, he said, “It ain’t like you’re gonna ride a real bull. We’re just workin’ on your balance.”
Eden eyed Toro uncertainly.
“Here.” Sol scooped her up. She squealed but it was a good squeal, and for a moment, all was right in Sol’s world. He deposited her on the long slope of Toro’s back and showed her how to grasp the bull rope.
“We’ll start out easy.” He set the bull on the lowest setting. Eden found her seat quickly, choking up on the rope where the ride was the easiest.
“Faster, Daddy.”
Sol tamed the grin that wanted to break out and upped the setting.
Toro was spinning at a respectable speed when Sol’s three youngest brothers materialized to watch. Gideon showed up shortly after. When Eden’s cheering section got noisy, she lost her focus, then her balance, followed by her seat. The thick padding on the floor surrounding Toro cushioned her fall.
She got up and dusted off the butt of her jeans even though she hadn’t landed on dirt.
“You okay, hon?” Sol asked.
She nodded. “They distracted me.”
“Competition don’t happen in a vacuum, baby girl. Crowds get noisy. You gotta be able to shut it out. Wanna go again?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Sol felt as if he were going to swallow his tongue. “Uh, honey?”
What was he supposed to say? Do as I say, not as I do? Yeah. Kids smelled hypocrisy at a hundred paces. “That’s not ladylike language.”
“Daisy says it.”
Ah, shit.
“Well, she shouldn’t.” He could see he wasn’t convincing her. “It’s also adult language.”
She looked at him without expression.
“I know I use it, too, and I shouldn’t. I’ll tell you what. We’ll both stop using it.”
A burst of laughter came from behind him. He turned and shot a thunderous look at Gideon, who didn’t even try to act like it wasn’t funny.
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Or maybe I should say when I don’t hear it.” Gideon smiled smugly.
“I can quit cussing.”
Gideon raised his eyebrows.
“I can,” Sol said.
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
“Put your money where your mouth is, big brother. Every time you cuss, you put a dollar in the kitty. Every day you don’t, I’ll put in five. At the end of summer, we take the kids someplace fun. Maybe the water park in Flint.”
Sol scowled at his brother. It was one thing to make sure Eden didn’t catch him swearing; now he’d have to make sure Gideon didn’t either. But he couldn’t back down. Eden would sense something shady. Even haggling would probably send her antenna up. Gideon had laid his trap well, so Sol grit his teeth and said, “This is gonna cost you, little brother.”
“I don’t think so.” Gideon looked at their three youngest brothers, who ranged in age from thirteen to seventeen. “Y’all spread the word. The first person to catch Sol cussing each day gets a buck and bragging rights.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Sol protested.
Gideon shot him an innocent look. “If you’re quitting, it ain’t a problem.”
Arguing with that kind of logic was impossible. Damn. He was going to have to go out to the north forty to even open his mouth.
He looked down at his little girl, who was watching him with interest. “If I’m gonna do this, you gotta stop, too. Deal?”
Her eyes glittered. “Deal.”
Gideon held out his hand, and they shook on it.
Sol suddenly remembered that the reason for the mustache on his lip was a bet with Gideon. Damn. He was so screwed.
###
Sol found himself spending more and more time at Daisy’s arena. Watching Eden was the only thing that kept the pain in his heart at bay. So he watched his daughter ride, clocking her, commenting on her form. He knew he was driving Daisy crazy, but she put up with him, hoping, he suspected, to catch him swearing.
In the four days since he’d made the deal with Eden, his bet with his brother had cost him fifteen dollars, and that was only for the times he’d been caught. Gideon was out only the money he paid his snitches.
It would have been worse if he lived in the same house with everyone else.
If he could have spent all his time at the arena, watching Eden, he would have, but other ranch chores needed attention, too, and he couldn’t leave them all for his brothers to do.
They’d finally found a replacement radiator for the old ‘48 truck. It should have been a simple swap, but the holes didn’t line up, the fan kept hitting the shroud, and the shroud didn’t fit anything.
Sol had been working on it for three days and had g
otten it to almost fit. Swearing at it, if only in his head, suited his state of mind. Now if he could only figure out how to fill up that hollow spot in his chest where his heart used to be.
Part of him was relieved that he hadn’t heard from Georgia. He didn’t want to have to look at her and think about her with Tommy, but he was surprised she hadn’t shown up to talk to Eden about the rodeo. He knew better than to think her silence meant she was going to let Eden ride. He added his ache for his daughter on top of his own.
He almost welcomed the pain when his wrench slipped as he was tightening the last bolt, and he busted his knuckles on the radiator housing.
Sol swore then looked around to see if anyone lurked nearby.
He was sucking on his knuckles, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, when his phone rang.
“Yup.”
The laugh on the other end brought a smile to his face. “Hey, Terry.” He’d ridden a lot of miles with Terry Ainsley, traveling from rodeo to rodeo. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ much. Been wonderin’ how your doin’. Where you at?”
“I’m at the ranch. Been healing up. You on the road?”
“Yup. I’m driving through your neck of the woods tomorrow on my way to Oklahoma. I figured since I got no travel buddy, and you missing out on cowboy Christmas and all, you might wanna come along.”
Sol hadn’t missed a cowboy Christmas in ten years. Nearly every town that had an arena had some sort of rodeo action going the week of July fourth. It was hectic and crazy, but it put a lot of green in a cowboy’s pocket.
“So you ready to cowboy up?” Terry asked.
Sol flexed his hand. He was so ready. A familiar excitement bubbled up, only slightly muted by the heavy ache in his heart.
Then he thought about Eden. He didn’t have her often enough. Was it wrong to go traipsing off to a rodeo while she was there? Probably.
And of course, there was Georgia, but he was screwing that up ten ways from Sunday. He needed some distance, or he was likely to implode and damage their relationship past all redemption.
