She blinked at him for a second or two, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
He seemed equally stunned. Then he wrapped her in a bear hug. “Georgie! My goodness, girl, I was just thinking about you and here you are.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Lookit you. No bigger than a minute. I forget what a shrimp you are,” he teased. Then he added, “But damn, girl, you are a beauty. Lucky thing you got your mama’s looks, huh?”
“And Mom says I got your temperament.”
“Bet she didn’t say you were lucky getting that trait. What’re you doin’ in Moorcroft?”
She held her breath, expecting he would demand to know why she hadn’t called him to say she’d be in the area, but he just looked at her expectantly. Happily. “I made a few sales calls.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No, but I have to get back—”
“You ain’t even gonna let your old man buy you lunch?”
Hello guilt. “Sure. I’ll let you buy… As long as it’s Mexican.”
He scowled. “That’ll work.”
Her father hadn’t argued or insisted on eating at the restaurant of his choice? That was different.
Maybe he was different.
They walked together, her father making small talk about the weather and hinting about big news in his life.
After they were seated with menus, Georgia studied Robert Hotchkiss as he slipped on a pair of reading glasses.
It’d been two years since she’d seen him when he’d shown up in Dallas, out of the blue. He didn’t look much different. Same pale brown eyes. Same shaggy gray hair. Same rotund carriage.
He glanced up with a small smile. “Whatcha havin’?”
“The beef enchilada platter. What about you?”
“Steak is probably the safest, although my doctor wants me to eat more green shit.”
Georgia smiled. “Mom tried to get you to eat more green shit for years.”
“She finally did develop my taste for all the different ways she could cook beets.”
“My borscht never tastes as good as hers.”
“Your mama’s cookin’ is just one of the many things I miss about her.”
The waiter served their drinks—iced tea for her, a beer for her father—and took their order.
They snacked on chips and salsa. The restaurant had typical Mexican décor—piñatas hanging from the ceiling and gaudy sombreros on the brightly colored wall. Plastic cactuses scattered throughout. Mariachi music playing in the background. Strands of chili pepper lights draped from the ceiling.
“Speaking of your mother… I talked to her the other day.”
“I heard.”
His bushy eyebrows rose. “What’d she say about me?”
“Just that you called.” She stirred a packet of sugar in her tea. “She’s coming to visit.” Why had she told him that?
“Is that right? She didn’t mention it to me.”
“I was surprised to hear that you call her regularly.”
He honestly looked perplexed. “Why? Irina was my wife for twenty-five years.”
“I figured after the ugliness of your divorce…”
“Look, Georgie, after RJ…everything got way out of hand. I never expected…” He sighed. “It’s complicated and I never was good at uncomplicating things. But I’m awful good at makin’ them worse.”
Georgia bit her tongue. Changing the subject would be the safest way to finish this lunch. “What’s this big news you mentioned earlier?”
“I’m gonna retire.”
“Really? When?”
“Soon as the paperwork is sorted out. I sold the hog farm to a corporation outta eastern South Dakota. Shocked me how good of a deal they offered. And, well, I ain’t getting any younger.”
“You just turned sixty-eight, right?”
“Yep. That sounds old to a twenty-eight-year-old, huh?”
It did sound old. Her dad had been forty when she and RJ were born and her mother only twenty-two. During her childhood she hadn’t noticed the eighteen-year age gap made a difference in her parent’s relationship. But she wondered if that was why she’d never dated older men.
“I tried to call you on your birthday last month.”
“I know.” She aligned the bottom of the knife with the bottom of the spoon. “I don’t celebrate or do anything anymore. It’s just another day.”
Her dad chuckled. “Your mom used to go all-out for your birthdays.”
“The year we got the squirt guns was the best.”
“Really? Didn’t you break yours right away?”
“No. RJ busted his. He was so upset I gave him mine and we swore we’d never tell.”
His eyebrows rose. “I never knew that.”
“We were pretty good at covering for each other.”
“And sticking up for each other. I remember the summer you two were seven. We’d just moved to the farm and I caught RJ climbing on the barn with a quilt that he intended to use for a parachute when he jumped off the roof. The kid like-ta give me heart failure. I paddled his ass good.” He shook his head. “Then you marched up to me, bold as brass, and told me I’d better spank you too, since it was your quilt and you planned to jump off right after him.”
Georgia smiled. “I don’t know if you noticed I wore extra clothes as padding.”
He laughed. “Nope. I didn’t catch that.”
“It was RJ’s idea. He wished he’d thought of it.”
“I imagine. You two were always thick as thieves.”
That comment kicked her grief to the surface, not that she’d ever buried it deep. She scrambled to change the subject. “So retirement, huh? What will you do with yourself when you don’t have to slop hogs?”
“Maybe I’ll end up babysitting Deck and Tara-Lee’s kid,” he said with a laugh. “But since he’s getting a cut of the profit, Deck will likely be takin’…” He glanced up sharply. “Sorry. I know Deck is a sore subject.”
Do ya think?
“But now that the cat’s out of the bag, I want to explain—”
Georgia held up her hand. “Don’t go there. Please. We were having a nice lunch and I don’t want my appetite spoiled.”
“We do need to talk about this at some point, Georgie. It’s been seven years.”
The food arrived.
“So what’s your main responsibility in this job?” he asked.
Grateful that he’d switched topics, she smiled. “I’m at the rodeo grounds to make sure our portion of the event is handled properly. Working with the committees beforehand. Selling ads. Lining up radio spots.”
He sliced off a big chunk of meat. “What happens when the summer rodeo season ends?”
“I return to Dallas. But keep that to yourself. I don’t want any of our contractors afraid I’ll bail out early, since we’re the new kid around town.”
He grunted and steadily demolished his steak.
The conversation lagged, but not due to tension.
“Thanks for inviting me to lunch, Dad.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned back in the booth, folding his arms and setting them on his belly. “So am I gonna get to see you again before you take off?”
“I’ll try. The road runs both ways. You could venture to Sundance.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her father was looking at her in a way she’d never seen before—with regret. “What?”
“People change, Georgie. Holdin’ a grudge ain’t no way to go through life.”
Was he talking about her forgiving Deck?
Maybe he’s taking about you forgiving him.
She inhaled a slow breath. “I’m listening.”
“Took me a while, but I’m finally starting to realize what anger cost me.”
“Who were you angry at?”
“God. For takin’ my boy away. I lost my faith.”
Robert Hotchkiss had always been a man of faith, not merely paying lip service to be
ing a Christian. He’d tried to lead his life according to God’s rules and by example, expecting his family to follow suit. It hadn’t been the easiest way to grow up, but she hadn’t questioned it. Not until RJ had died. Although she’d veered away from the teachings of the church, she still didn’t judge those people who abided by the tenets of their religions, just as long as they didn’t try and push their beliefs on her.
So his response about losing his faith startled her—maybe that’s why her father had become so unrecognizable in the wake of RJ’s death. He’d had no one to turn to. So he’d turned on everyone.
“But the worst part?” he continued in a small voice. “Because of that anger, I also lost your mom. And you. I lost everything and everyone that mattered to me.” He looked down. “It ain’t right. And I don’t know what I can do to make it right.”
Neither do I.
“But I’m willing to do anything, Georgia.”
What did it mean that he wanted to try and make amends?
Her phone buzzed, reminding her of her next appointment. She said, “Dad, I have to go.”
“I understand. Thanks for makin’ my day. I…hate that it’s this way between us. I don’t know you as an adult, Georgie. That makes me sadder than anything in the world,” he said gruffly.
Completely at a loss, Georgia mumbled, “See you,” and practically ran out of the restaurant.
Tell’s week started out on a sour note and went downhill from there.
He hadn’t seen Georgia at all on Monday and when he called her, she sounded preoccupied, although she swore she was just tired.
Tuesday night was a wash. She’d invited him to her place after his dart game ended, but the way she’d gone on about how much fun she’d had with the new people she’d met and the old friends she’d reconnected with had brought out a jealous streak and he’d just gone home. Alone.
Wednesday night was Georgia’s girls’ night with Stephanie. And Leah and Roxanne. And a bunch of other women. Evidently she’d had a great time, a fact he’d heard Thursday morning from Ned. And even Dalton.
Weren’t you the one who encouraged her to cut loose? Have fun. Make friends. Get involved?
Yeah. Might make him paranoid, but now that Georgia had found a new crowd, maybe a cooler crowd, was she ditching him?
The niggling doubt was confirmed Thursday night when Tell tracked Georgia down at the Golden Boot—thirty minutes after they were supposed to meet for supper at Fields. He leaned against the wall and watched her as she chatted with the mayor, the superintendent of schools, the owner of the local real estate company, and the lawyer for a methane gas company.
All single men.
All gazing at Georgia with lust-filled eyes.
All dead men, as far as Tell was concerned.
But rather than storming over and hauling her ass out like he had before, he hung back. Just as he had in high school. Waiting for her to notice him.
You’re still a wannabe, McKay. Nothing has changed.
Bullshit. But tuning out that voice of doubt and reminding himself to act like a mature adult in this relationship didn’t spur his feet to move. He was stuck in hell, seeing Georgia laughing with these clowns, oblivious to the fact she’d missed their date.
Thirty minutes passed while he remained in the shadows, nursing a beer. Thirty long minutes in which he didn’t cross Georgia’s mind once because she’d made no effort to contact him.
Sobering and humbling.
He texted her.
I must’ve mixed up my nights. Thought we had a date at Fields. I’m tired and going home. Catch up with you later. T~
Maybe it was perverted, but he hung around to see her reaction.
Georgia fished out her cell from the pocket of her suit jacket and glanced at the screen. Guilt crossed her face and she swore. She immediately began punching buttons. Soon after his phone buzzed in his hand.
No, it was tonight. Sorry! I didn’t mean to stand you up. I got sidetracked. Are you still waiting at Fields?
Tell waited a solid five minutes before he responded.
No worries. We’ll go another night. Got a busy day tomorrow anyway. See you @ the Pine Haven Rodeo Saturday.
Georgia frowned and texted furiously, ignoring the men at the table.
I’m really sorry. Can I come out to your place and make you supper?
Probably made him a petty dick, but he just wanted to be mad at her.
No. I can’t text and drive, so I gotta go. See you.
Tell finished his beer. Wondering if Georgia would stay at the bar and drink with these guys or if she’d head home.
But he didn’t stick around to find out.
He dreamt of her that night. Dreamt of being back in high school. Dreamt of being invisible. Dreamt of gazing at her adoringly from the sidelines.
Georgia. Beautiful, perfect Georgia. His Georgia. Not the unattainable Georgia from the past.
He approached her in the lunchroom. But she wouldn’t deign to look in his direction or even speak to him.
He pulled her hair and called her name in history class, but she wouldn’t acknowledge him at all.
In the next dream frame, Georgia was surrounded by his cousins. Strong, strapping McKays. With those black Irish good looks. Rich men. Successful ranchers. Oozing confidence. Spreading charm.
When he wormed his way through the throng to get to her, he was roughly jerked back. Put in his place at the end of the line.
“She doesn’t want you,” Kade sneered.
“She never has, she never will,” Colby hissed.
“She’s too good for you,” Colt added.
“You ain’t man enough to handle her,” Ben warned.
“She’s using you, and you’re a loser who lets her,” Dalton said with derision.
His father appeared—all mean attitude and ugliness. “You’re an embarrassment to the McKay name.” Casper turned his back on Tell, shunning him.
Then, one by one, his McKay relatives started laughing at him. Pointing. Whispering. Making fun. Taunting him. He tried to run away but his feet were buried in the earth.
The real kick in the balls came when Georgia looked at him with pity and contempt. “You didn’t really think you had a shot at me, did you?”
He woke up angry. Irrational anger from a stupid dream, but he hated there were some truths in his fears. That he’d never be good enough for her. In her eyes and everyone else’s eyes. Truths that made him feel raw and helpless. Truths that made him a little desperate to dispel those fears by any means.
Chores kept him hopping all Friday morning. So when his caller ID said Chase, he almost didn’t answer, but curiosity got the better of him. “Omigod! Is this really Chase McKay? World champion PBR bull rider? Callin’ me? I’m so honored!”
“Yes, it is, and why don’t you just go ahead and pucker up to kiss my famous butt for that smartass comment.”
Tell laughed. “What’s up, cuz?”
“I’ll be in town for the Upton Rodeo tomorrow afternoon. Pressing the flesh, passing the word about safety helmets. I got to talkin’ to Verna, the Upton Rodeo secretary, and she told me they’re short a judge for tomorrow. I told her I’d call and see if you’re interested in subbing.”
Hell yes he was interested. Then it hit him. He couldn’t. It was too bad Georgia had hired him to work the Pine Haven Rodeo tomorrow.
It’s too bad Georgia has blown you off all fucking week.
Whoa. Seemed his subconscious was still bitter.
But the bottom line was the Upton Rodeo was a PRCA-sanctioned event. More money, more prestige than a dinky-ass nothing rodeo. Not to mention he’d get to share the spotlight with his celebrity cousin for an afternoon.
No one would fault him for taking this opportunity.
Well, Georgia might.
Well, she could just suck it up.
“Tell? You there?”
“Yep. Sorry. That sounds great.”
“Awesome. I’m sure you know the drill
by now. Lookin’ forward to seein’ you.”
Georgia didn’t check her phone Saturday morning until after she’d weeded her vegetable garden, showered and finished half a pot of coffee. She smiled, seeing a text from Tell at six a.m. She loved the pictures he’d text from his early morning ranch chores. Or just the sweet things he’d text because he’d been thinking about her. Those messages had been scarce the last three days. She’d just chalked it up to them both being busy. She scrolled through the text:
Sorry, but I have to back out of judging the Pine Haven Rodeo today. A family thing came up—don’t worry it’s not serious and I’ll text you when I can. T~
What was she supposed to do now? Two judges were the minimum requirement. She tried eight numbers on the judges list and no one was available.
That’s when she panicked.
Think, Georgia.
One solution occurred to her. She dismissed it. Several times. Until she just went ahead and made the call, pacing as the line kept ringing. Then a gruff voice said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. How are you?”
“Georgie! I’m okay. I’m happy to hear from you. What’s goin’ on?”
“Is Deck around?”
Silence. Then, “Oh. You didn’t call to talk to me?”
His hopeful tone had dimmed and she felt guilty. “I’m actually in a time crunch. I need to talk to Deck and I didn’t have his number. It’s strictly a business question.”
“Georgia, dear, is there coffee left?” her mother trilled as she entered the kitchen.
“Your mother is in Sundance?” he asked.
“Yes. I told you she planned to visit. Now is Deck around or not?”
“Yeah. He’s here. Hang on.”
Muffled voices mixed with the sounds of hogs going hog wild in the background and then Deck came on the line. “Robert said you needed to talk to me?”
Cut right to the chase. Be professional. “Yes. I’m short a judge for the Pine Haven Rodeo today. Would you be willing to sub?”
“Who backed out?” A snicker. “It was McKay, wasn’t it?”
Dammit, Tell, you owe me for this. “Yes. Look, the event is two-and-a-half hours, tops. It starts at one.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Standard non-PRCA pay rate. There’s food for contestants, judges and committee members. Plus, I could swing a companion ticket for Tara-Lee.”
Kissin' Tell: Rough Riders, Book 13 Page 25
