A Dark & Stormy Knight: A McKnight Romance (McKnight Romances) (6 page)

“Supper’s on!” Ruth yelled from the back
door.

When Georgia walked into the kitchen,
Ruth was insisting Zach’s wife, Maddie, stay and eat.

“But Zach’ll be home soon,” Maddie
protested. “I should have his supper ready.”

“Nonsense.” Ruth nudged Maddie toward a
chair. “Your young ‘uns are fed, and there ain’t no point in you cooking for
just you and Zacharia. If you ain’t home when he gets there, he’ll know where
to look for you.”

Georgia
couldn’t help smiling. She’d never had any difficulty picturing Ruth at the
front of a smoky room saying, “I’m Ruth and I’m a food pusher.” Except Ruth
didn’t see that as a flaw, so there’d be no twelve-step program in her future.

“Georgia, honey, you sit right here.”

“But this is Sol’s—”

“Sol’s name ain’t engraved on that chair,”
Ruth set a platter of biscuits in the middle of the table. “If he makes it in
time for supper, he’ll sit where I tell him.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Georgia slid into the seat
next to Maddie.

With thirteen children and only three who
didn’t live within a mile of their childhood home, the McKnights ate in shifts.
With the younger children—the ones still in school—already fed and sent off to
play or to do their evening chores, the adults sat down to enjoy a more
civilized meal. Everyone clasped their hands and bowed their heads as Sol’s
daddy, Jebediah, said grace.

Ever since her first meal at the McKnights’
table, Georgia had defined a split second as the time between everyone’s echoed
“Amen” and the moment the reaching began: reaching for chicken fried steak and
fresh corn on the cob, reaching for mashed potatoes and corn muffins; reaching
for gravy for the steak and the potatoes; reaching for home-churned butter for
the corn and honey for the muffins. And it all tasted so wonderful, Georgia couldn’t figure out how Ruth ever managed to have leftovers. Especially the way
this family ate.

But the best part was that Georgia hadn’t had to cook it herself.

Jebediah asked about her folks as he
heaped mashed potatoes onto his plate. Georgia gave him the rundown.

“Well, you let us know if you need
anything. We’ll be glad to help.”

“I will,” Georgia promised, but she
couldn’t imagine what it would take for her to ask the McKnights. In spite of
everything Sol’s family did to make her feel welcome, she didn’t feel
comfortable asking for their help. Eden was family to them, but Georgia had given up the right to lean on them when she’d walked out on Sol.

When the conversation moved on to a bull
they thought would do well on the rodeo circuit, Georgia leaned closer to
Maddie. In an undertone, she said, “You didn’t really think Ruth would let you
leave without eating, did you?”

Maddie snorted softly. “Of course not. I
had her number before Zach and I even got married. But it makes her happy to
strong-arm people into sitting at her table, so I let her bully me into
staying.”

Georgia
chuckled. “Yeah, I see those bruises on your arm from where you were fighting
her off.”

Maddie smiled, amusement lighting her
eyes. Then she sobered. “I thank God for her and the rest of the family every
day. With Zach gone mostly from sunup to sundown these days, I’d be a basket
case, trying to cope without their help.”

Besides their own infant, Maddie and Zach
were raising Maddie’s orphan nephew, Jesse, who at eighteen months was
extremely mobile. The thought of having two babies in diapers at the same time
made Georgia shudder.

Her own mama had made Georgia feel like an inadequate mother every time anyone else had changed Eden’s diaper. Maddie’s
situation was a hundred and eighty degrees different; she had the entire
McKnight clan begging to help with the first grandchild since Eden. They even
treated Jesse as if he belonged to them.

Zach came in as dessert was being served:
blackberry cobbler, homemade vanilla ice cream optional, at least in theory. He
kissed Maddie on the cheek, squeezed a chair in between her and Gideon, and
loaded a plate, playing catch-up.

They were finishing dessert when the
screen door behind Jebediah creaked open and the McKnight’s youngest boy came
in. The door fell shut behind him with a loud slap.

“Tobias, how many times do I have to tell
you—” Ruth started.

At thirteen, Tobias was too old to cry
over skinned knees or scraped knuckles, but even Georgia could see he was
struggling to master his tears. Whatever the problem was, it was more than a
little bruise or a scraped knee.

Jebediah twisted in his seat. “What’s the
matter, boy?”

Tobias made snuffling noises and held out
his hand. Georgia suspected if he’d tried to say anything, he’d have wailed,
and he was old enough to find that unbecoming behavior. Jebediah caught his
wrist and turned the hand to see it better. At least an inch of splintered wood
stuck out from his palm. Looking at it made Georgia’s nerve endings shriek.
Beside her, Maddie hissed in a pained breath.

“Aw, it’s not so bad,” Jebediah said. “I’ve
done cut myself worse ‘n this shaving.” But the look he shot down the table
said a mother’s care was called for. “You go down to your mama now. She’ll take
care of you. You’ll be fine as frog’s hair when she’s done.”

As though Tobias’ appearance heralded the
end of the meal, the men, except for Zach, who was starting dessert, pushed
their plates aside and got up to attend to the ranch’s never-ending chores.
Maddie and Georgia shared an amused glance.

With an unspoken agreement, Georgia ran water into the sink as Maddie gathered up the dishes. Zach scarfed his cobbler,
gathered up their kids, kissed Maddie again, and told her he’d see her at home.

Georgia
hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know Maddie, yet she found working beside
her comfortable as they finished clearing away the remnants of supper. Even so,
she decided she’d better start a conversation before it got awkward. The
problem was . . . well, she didn’t really know Maddie.

She did know that, sometimes, when Sol
got really irritated, he ranted about her. Georgia had seen it a time or two
herself, and it wasn’t pretty. She wished she knew if Maddie’s opinion of her
was already tainted. More than likely, Georgia decided. Even if Sol had never
said a word, Maddie would certainly have gotten Zach’s opinion of his
ex-sister-in-law, and that probably wasn’t much better than Sol’s.

“So you’ve been a full-fledged McKnight
for a while now.” Georgia slipped dishes into the sudsy water.

“Almost a year.”

“A year already. Wow.” Georgia tried to sound as though a year spent in close proximity to family didn’t sound like cruel
and unusual punishment. “How are you planning to celebrate your anniversary?”

“We’re not doing anything fancy. Zach’s
taking me dancing at The Lariat.”

“You’re breast feeding, aren’t you?”

Maddie nodded.

“Sucks, doesn’t it? He gets to have a
beer but you have to abstain.”

Maddie shrugged then grinned. “It’s okay.
I was never that crazy about beer anyway. I
am
crazy about Abbie.”

Georgia
smiled. She could relate. She was still crazy about Eden.

“You should join us,” Maddie said. “Sol
and a bunch of the others will be there.”

“On your anniversary? Why would you want
everyone around? Wouldn’t you rather be alone with your husband?”

“Oh, we’ll get to be alone. Ruth’s
keeping my babies overnight.” The wicked smile on Maddie’s face morphed into a
lustful grin. “And then we get to sleep as late as we want.”

“Oh, God,” Georgia moaned. “I remember
how much I craved a full night’s sleep when Eden was a baby. That’s another
thing that sucks. There’s no putting them down with a bottle when you’re the
kitchen.”

“Zach does his share. I just put breast
milk in a bottle.”

“I wish I could have done that.” She
handed the first clean plate to Maddie for drying.

“Sol didn’t help?” Maddie asked.

“Uh—”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” Maddie’s
cheeks grew pink. “You and Sol split up before Eden was born. Sorry.” She
bumped the heel of her hand against her forehead as though trying to jar
something loose. “I have these moments where I’m brain dead.”

“Ah, yes. The lingering effects of
pregnancy,” Georgia said. “I remember it well.”

“So that’s normal? The feeling that half
your brain’s been anesthetized.”

“Normal?” Georgia shrugged. “I don’t know
about that, but I do remember a few times wondering if I’d had a stroke because
I’d said or done something really stupid. Something I knew better than.” Like
the times she’d taken Eden out to Sol’s trailer, so he could see her, and ended
up spending the night in his bed. Yeah, that qualified. Definitely had to have
been a stroke.

Maddie laughed. “You’ve just described my
life lately. I’m fully capable of opening my mouth and sticking my foot in all
the way up to my hip. Say you’ll come help us celebrate. Please. It’s only two
weeks away. I need someone there who understands and can leap across the table
to clap their hand over my mouth if my brain disengages while I’m talking.”

“I’d like to but it’ll depend on how Mama’s
doing.”

By the time they finished the dishes, Georgia figured Sol had found his supper elsewhere. It annoyed her that he’d missed
spending the evening with his daughter to . . . do what? Was it
her he was avoiding or was he seeing someone who was happy to feed him? Not
that she cared about that except for how it affected their daughter.

As she pulled out of the ranch driveway,
the depression about having to go back to her folks’ place set in. With every
mile, she felt the weight of it falling heavier on her shoulders.

The Lariat was just outside the town
limits. A drink sounded really good. On impulse, she pulled in. It felt like a
death-row reprieve.

###

“Hey, Georgia,” Tommy Mulligan greeted
her from behind the bar as she slid onto a stool. “What can I get you?”

She and Sol had gone to school with
Tommy, who had been the star quarterback the year they graduated. If he hadn’t
blown out his knee in the last game of the season, he’d have had a full
scholarship to the University of Texas and a spot on the Longhorns football
team.

Hero Creek’s school was small enough that
not only did everyone know everyone else, most felt a camaraderie from those
years. Particularly if they’d gone there since first grade as Georgia, Sol, and Tommy had.

She hadn’t hung out with Tommy’s crowd—if
you could actually have “crowds” in a class of forty students—and the one time
they’d gone out in their junior year, he’d been all hands. But then so were
most boys at that age. It was ancient history now, and Georgia saw no reason to hold a grudge.

“I’ll have a Baileys on the rocks,” she
said.

He filled a glass with ice then upended a
bottle, letting the liqueur flow from the spout. “I heard you was in town
helping out your mama.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, looks like I’m stuck
here for the summer.”

His eyebrows rose as he returned the
bottle to the glass shelf on the wall behind the bar.

“Sorry. My folks are getting to me.” She
laid a twenty on the bar.

He swapped her drink for the twenty. “Family
has a way of doing that.” He stepped over to the cash register to make change.

Georgia
took a sip. Damn, it tasted good. She took another, longer drink. Mmm. Baileys’
biggest drawback was how easy it went down.

“So how’ve you been?” she asked.

He shot a glance toward the pool tables
at the far end of the bar. Two vertical creases appeared between his eyebrows. “As
well as can be expected, I suppose.”

She turned her head to see what the
problem was. The crowd was thin, even for a Sunday night. On the one pool table
that was busy, two couples were playing a partners game of eight ball. One of
the women was Missy Mulligan née Stevens, another Jefferson High School alumna and, according to Bethany’s Hero Creek Update, Tommy’s estranged wife.

Georgia
met Tommy’s gaze. “Tough times, huh?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah.”
He picked up a towel and started wiping down the bar.

She took another sip, letting the Baileys
linger on her tongue, savoring the sweetness.

“How come you women have to be so damned
difficult?”

She swallowed to clear her mouth. “We’re
no more difficult than you men.”

He looked at her hard for several
seconds. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll give you that. You were married to Sol.
Still . . .”

“Still what?”

“Still, you didn’t even try to tough it
out. You were out of there like you was shot from a cannon. What’d you last?
Two weeks?”

Small towns. No one ever forgot anything.
“Six.” Which was something she normally didn’t mention.