A Dark & Stormy Knight: A McKnight Romance (McKnight Romances) (30 page)

“About the proposal? No.” The statement
was followed by a lengthy pause. “I’m a little nervous about what I have to do
now.”

“And that would be . . . ?”

“Confessing to you that I kinda tweaked
Sol.”

Oh, no.
“You tweaked him?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did you do that exactly?”

“Well,” he drew the word out, clearly
wishing he didn’t have to own up.

Georgia couldn’t imagine what he could
have done that was so bad.

“I sorta showed him the ring.”

Georgia waited, knowing there had to be
something more, her suspicion growing that the something more was the reason
for Sol’s cold shoulder.

“And I kinda asked him what you’d think
of it.”

“What I’d think—?” Georgia gulped a
breath of air. “You made him think it was for me.”

“Kinda.”

For several moments, Georgia couldn’t
decide if she should be angry or amused. It was kind of funny. Especially since
she’d initially made that same assumption. She could practically hear Daniel
wipe the sweat from his brow when she finally laughed. “Let me get this
straight. You let Sol believe you were going to ask me to marry you, and he
didn’t hit you?”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about
that. He hit your friend Tommy for a whole lot less, didn’t he?”

She knew how shaken he was because,
unlike Sol, Daniel was usually careful not to swear. “Yup. You were born under
a lucky star, my friend.”

After they hung up, she tried Sol’s
number, but her call went to voice mail. She left a message, asking about
Spitfire. Almost an hour later, Daisy called. The news was bad. The ultrasound
showed major bowing in both tendons. The healing process would take months.
Spitfire’s barrel racing career was over, and all the time and effort Daisy had
invested in the little mare, wasted.

Eden was taking it hard, Daisy said.

Of course, the news was still fresh. Eden
was young, Georgia assured herself. She’d recover her bounce in a few days.

Georgia called Sol again the next day,
and the day after that, and again two days later. Each time, her calls went to
voice mail, and each time, either Daisy or Eden called her back.

Her conversations were subdued, but
Georgia didn’t push her. She didn’t want her daughter to feel she had to
pretend to be happy when she wasn’t.

She’d have liked to talk to Sol about
Eden, but from him, she heard nothing.

Something was wrong, and she knew it had
to do with Daniel and that damned ring. It seemed as if Sol was giving up, but
she had never known him to wave the white flag. Not about anything. More
likely, he was regrouping, thinking out some new strategy to make things go his
way.

Finally, she left him a message telling
him about her parents’ anniversary party on Saturday and asking him if he would
bring Eden. She made a point of telling him he was welcome, too, but she
suspected he was too smart to put himself through an afternoon with her family
and their friends. She wouldn’t have either if she had a choice.

When he finally called her back, the call
came through well after midnight. Since she was already sound asleep, his
message that he’d drop Eden off for the party landed in her voice mail. Georgia
suspected the timing was intentional.

He couldn’t really be giving up, could
he?

Gathering her family together on a
schedule was as challenging as Georgia expected. She managed it every Sunday
for church only because it was the first thing on everyone’s agenda. Pulling it
off later in the day, after her daddy had the chance to get involved with
chores and Grams decided she wanted to make deviled eggs for the picnic and her
mother decided it was a good day to be picky about everything, made Georgia
wonder if she could get them out of the house even if it were on fire.

She was surprised to see Sol’s pickup
there beside the cars her parents’ friends drove.

The smoky smell of grilling meat was
thick in the air as Georgia’s daddy took her mama’s arm to steady her. Georgia
led their little parade around the side of the house and into the backyard to
the shrill, joyous screams of Bethany’s kids throwing themselves down the Slip’N
Slide.

She plucked at her tank top, pulling it
away from the sweat trickling between her breasts, and wished she could join
them. Instead, she and Grams headed for the grass green picnic table under one
of the maple trees where the side dishes sat. Sol straddled the bench on the
near side, looking over the offerings like a taste tester deciding what to
sample.

Eden, her blonde hair in twin braids, sat
between his thighs, her legs drawn up against her chest so she could lean against
him. Her face was wistful, as if she was resigned to being there even though
she didn’t want to. Georgia’s heart twisted into a knot.

Sol prodded Eden when he saw them then
stood to offer Georgia a perfunctory “hey,” his gaze scooting past her without
stopping to focus on her grandmother. “Here, let me.” He took the dangerously
listing platter of deviled eggs from Grams’ hands.

“Why, thank you,” Grams said. “Such a
nice, helpful boy.”

Grams’ compliment caught Georgia off
guard. She set her pineapple pie on the table and said, “Uh . . .
You remember Sol, don’t you, Grams? My ex-husband?”

“Well, of course I do. The man passed on
some good genes to Eden.” She winked at her great-granddaughter.

Sol’s eyebrows hiked in surprise.

“Come on, honey,” Grams said to Eden. “Let’s
go see what they got cooking.”

“Eden, remember what we talked about?”
Sol said before his daughter could get away.

Eden looked up into his eyes and nodded
her head. She took a deep breath before she turned to smile at her grandmother,
not a trace of sadness in her expression.

Sol elbowed Georgia as Grams and Eden
walked away. “Hear that? I got good genes.”

“I knew that,” Georgia said. In spite of
the playful comment, Sol’s delivery was off. In his normal frame of mind, he’d
have made some comment about sharing those genes with her again or maybe that
he’d be happy to let her strip him of his jeans. She waited a few beats, but he
didn’t follow up. The missing response made Georgia feel off kilter. She tried
to get her stability back by asking, “What was all that about, what you told
Eden?”

“Just a reminder that this is a
celebration and it isn’t fair for her to mope and bring everyone down.”

“Ah. Fake it ‘til you make it.”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Sol said.

Again, his tone was off, and Georgia
wondered if Eden wasn’t the only one faking it.

His gaze wandered over the food on the
table. He glanced around, as though checking for spies, before stealing one of
Grams’ deviled eggs. The egg disappeared into his mouth whole.

“I thought you weren’t coming to the
picnic.”

“I’m not,” he said around a mouthful of
egg. He swallowed then continued, “But I didn’t want to leave Eden until you
got here. So now you’re here. I guess I’ll—”

Georgia laid her hand on his arm. “Sit
down with me for a minute.”

His nostrils flared as he drew a breath. “Okay.”

As Georgia marshaled her opening, Sol’s
eyes landed on the pie she’d brought.

“That’s your pineapple pie.” He grinned
lasciviously. “Can you save me a piece?”

This felt like the first completely
honest emotion he’d given her since she’d sat down, and she let herself relax
into it. “You know there won’t be any left.”

He met her eyes for the first time since
she arrived. “That’s where the saving part comes in.”

Georgia couldn’t help smiling. A month
into their marriage, she’d made that pie for Sol; she’d gotten exactly one
piece. “How about if I make you another one?”

“Just for me? Not for Mama and the
others?”

Georgia laughed. “Just for you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Sol. I promise.” Their initial
awkwardness had faded a little, giving Georgia the courage to say, “You haven’t
returned any of my calls.”

And that fast, the awkwardness came
crashing back as Sol dropped his gaze to the top of the picnic table and went
too still. “Daisy kept you posted, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you.”

Sol’s shoulders rose and dropped in an
abbreviated shrug. “I got busy.”

“So busy you couldn’t spare time for a
phone call?”

His shoulders twitched again, and he
started tracing a gouge in the table with his finger. “Zach wants to buy a
couple of bulls. We’ve been looking at what’s for sale that bucks good.”

“That’s kept you too busy to talk to me?”

Another shrug. He kept his eyes glued to
the table.

Georgia sighed. No matter what the
provocation, it wasn’t like Sol to withdraw. If this was about the ring, his
response was all wrong. The Sol she knew would have only fought harder for her.
“So how is Eden really?”

Sol’s lips thinned. His fingers stilled
and his gaze rose to watch his daughter. “She tries to pretend she’s okay, but
she won’t go near Spitfire or even the horse barn.”

“But isn’t the mare getting better?”

“Yeah. That’s what I can’t figure.
Spitfire probably won’t ever compete, but it’s not like we’ll have to put her
down, but Eden . . . It don’t seem to matter to her. She feels
responsible.” Sol shook his head. “I can’t fault her too much. I want her to
learn from her mistakes, and she has to own them before she can do that, but
shit. Sometimes stuff just happens.”

Georgia understood what he meant. She’d
had that exact conversation with Eden herself, but it hadn’t taken. “If
Spitfire can’t race, will Daisy keep her?”

“No. But if Eden wants her, I’m willing
to buy her off Daisy. Right now, though, I can’t decide if keeping her is the
right thing to do. Eden acts like she’s grieving.” He was silent for a moment,
his mouth drawn in a tight line. “You were right. I never should have told her
she could race. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t’ve spent so much time with that mare,
and she wouldn’t mind so much that Spitfire’s hurt.”

Maybe it wasn’t Daniel and the ring that
was bothering Sol. Maybe he was just having an attack of guilt over Eden. “Now
what was it you said? Stuff happens sometimes? This is no more your fault than
it is hers. I can’t say I’ll be sorry if she’s lost interest in racing, but no
one could have predicted this. And as much as I hate to admit it, racing could
have been a good experience for her.”

“A good experience,” Sol scoffed. “Her
heart’s broke. It nearly kills me, watching her.” His hands clenched so hard,
they almost vibrated. “I want to fix it so bad, but there’s nothin’ I can do.”

How well Georgia knew that feeling, but
for all Sol tried to fix everything for everyone, seeing his own child in pain
was new to him. She wanted to pull him into her arms and offer him comfort. If
they’d been alone, she might have, but her family would probably freak out if
she did. Instead, she stroked the back of his hand until he unclenched his
fist. She laced her fingers with his and gave his calloused hand a squeeze.

“Welcome to being a real parent,” she
said.

“It sucks.” Sol clasped her hand back.

“Sometimes it really does.”

His gaze dropped to their hands. For a
moment, his grip tightened, but then he drew his hand away. With it went all
sense of connection.

“I better git. I got places to be. Daisy
can pick Eden up if you need her to. Just give her a call when you’re ready.”

“I’ll bring her out to the ranch. But”—she
shrugged, trying to act as if it didn’t matter to her—”you could stay if you
want to.”

Sol’s gaze flitted from Georgia’s mama to
her daddy then to Bethany. “Nah. I gotta go.”

She didn’t blame him. Her family had
never made him feel welcome, but somehow that didn’t feel like the reason he
wanted to leave. Or if it was, it wasn’t the number one reason.

Sol stood and swung one leg over the
plank seat.

“Wait.”

Halfway disentangled from the picnic
table, Sol stopped.

“Sit down for a second. I need to tell
you something.”

He went so still, she wasn’t sure he’d
comply, but after a couple of moments, he sank down, straddling the seat. He
looked like he wanted to bolt rather than hear what she had to say.

Georgia took a deep breath. “You don’t
have to worry about Daniel.”

“Why would I worry about Daniel?”

His response came so quick and was so not
what she’d expected that Georgia stammered. “Well, because . . .
because . . . because he’s not interested in me as more than a
friend.”

Sol eyes held . . .
nothing. No joy, no hope, no emotion at all. Silence fell between them as
Georgia waited. Finally, he said, “I think you’re underestimating the
situation.” His eyes dropped away from hers. “He seems . . .
like a good guy. You could do a lot worse for yourself and Eden.”

She ducked her head, trying to catch his
eyes, but they slithered away to gaze out across Bethany’s backyard to where Eden
was talking to one of her cousins.

“Sol, Daniel wants me for a friend.
Nothing more.” Why was she repeating herself? It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard
her the first time. But of course, the problem wasn’t his; it was hers. Having
to admit that Daniel wasn’t interested in her after she’d implied she was going
to marry him made her feel as manipulative as her mother. It had been a
childish thing to do, and she hated that Sol would see that in her.

“You’re wrong. He—”

A couple of her parents’ friends picked
that moment to sample Grams’ deviled eggs. And of course, they had to tell
Georgia how wonderful it was that she had come home to help her parents while
her mother recovered from the stroke. That, in turn, led to what looked like it
might turn into a discussion of the strokes others in their circle had had.

Short of rudeness, she was trapped. She
watched helplessly when Sol left the table to say good-bye to Eden and
disappeared around the corner of Bethany’s house, heading for his truck.

Damn. When something got stuck in his
head, he became the most pigheaded man she’d ever known. She should have tried
harder. She should have been more direct about the ring was for Tracy and not
her, even if made her look bad in Sol’s eyes.

Eventually, she escaped the conversation
that had pinned her down and joined Eden, who had found her way to her
granddaddy. She stood with her back to his front, as he oversaw his son-in-law’s
steak-grilling skills. “Sol’s not staying?” he asked when Georgia joined them.

She shook her head. “I asked him but he’s
got things to do.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe
next time, Jòrge.”

She couldn’t help smiling at her
childhood nickname. If only something so simple could cheer Eden or get Sol
back to the way he was before.

Soon, the steaks started coming off the
grill, along with hamburgers for the kids.

The kids ate at a card table on the patio
while the adults squeezed in around the third picnic tables Bethany had
borrowed from a neighbor.

Mama’s language skills had improved
dramatically with the daily therapy sessions. She wasn’t quite speaking in
complete sentences, but everyone waited patiently, and the phrases she uttered
became coherent thoughts when strung together.

Best of all, it looked as if they were
going to escape any drama. The main course was done. A couple of people had desserts,
but most were waiting for a hole to open up in their stomachs. Eden was
squeezed in between her grandfather and Bethany; she’d always liked listening
to the adults talk.

A few minutes later, Patsy Johansson
said, “Eden, I heard you had your barrel racing debut last weekend. Did you
take first place?” The question was playfully asked, an adult trying to be
encouraging.

And a long-lost memory surfaced. Patsy
had been a top barrel racer in her day. But that wouldn’t have meant anything
to Eden, even if she’d known. Her daughter looked at Georgia, her eyes panic struck.
Her granddaddy pulled her in close.

“It didn’t go very well,” Georgia said.
She pulled her gaze from her daughter and met Patsy’s eyes. “Eden’s horse bowed
a tendon, so she didn’t get to ride.”