A Dark & Stormy Knight: A McKnight Romance (McKnight Romances) Read Free Page A

chute,
mounted on a bull. On those rare occasions when she sat in the stands, she
usually discovered a desperate thirst just before he rode. She was about to
make her excuse to go to the concession stand when Lydia grabbed her hand. In
her excitement—and maybe the fear that if something bad happened she wouldn’t
get to meet him—Lydia squeezed Georgia’s hand too tightly.
    Before she could pull free, Sol’s hat
bobbed and the gate opened. Her throat closed up. The announcer’s voice blurred
into a loud buzzing in her ears. She looked at the announcer’s box perched
above the fans at the end of the arena then at the crowd below him. If the
sound system had developed a problem, no one else seemed aware of it. Her gaze
flickered to the clock with its large digital numbers. It changed from 3.2 to
3.3 as she watched. Ten seconds later, it read 3.4. Dear God. The clock’s
broken.
    She made the mistake of looking into the
arena as the bull spun hard to the right. Sol’s right arm swung through the
air, counterbalancing the bull’s forward lunge. Georgia’s free hand clenched
the railing while her knees threatened to buckle.
    She looked back at the clock: 5.2. At
tenth-of-a-second intervals that seemed to last minutes, it clicked over a
number. 5.3 . . . 5.4 . . . 5.5.
    She locked her jaw, trying to convince
her supper to stay in her stomach. The bull switched directions, but Sol stayed
with him.
    At last, the whistle blared. The bull’s
front hooves hit the ground, its rear hooves rising to the apex of a kick as
Sol jumped from its back. It was as clean a dismount as Georgia had ever seen, but his momentum still pushed Sol to one knee. She took a shaky breath as he
scrambled away from the still bucking bull.
    The bull quickly calmed and trotted
placidly toward the exit gate. The buzz in her ears faded, the announcer’s
voice, only slightly garbled now, rose through it. “. . . and
that’s a good eight-second ride for Sol McKnight on Thunder Alley!”
    ###
    The bars always filled up after the
rodeo. The cowboys walked in, looking to make up for lost time, followed
closely by the buckle bunnies. It wasn’t hard for Georgia to find Sol’s truck
at a local watering hole.
    A sea of cowboy hats filled the room. She
scanned the space around her while Lydia waited at the bar for their drinks.
Finally, she spotted Sol near the pool tables.
    “Hey, Sol,” she said as she came up
behind him.
    He turned, his face registering surprise.
“Georgia.”
    She hadn’t been able to tell from across
the arena, but she saw with astonishment he was sporting a neatly trimmed
mustache. Very Tom Selleck, she thought.
    Someone bumped Georgia from behind. The
small step forward she took to keep her balance brought her close enough to
feel the heat from Sol’s body. Had he changed his aftershave, too? She liked
the unfamiliar, musky scent.
    Sol took her arm. “C’mon. Let’s find a
less crowded spot.”
    She let him steer her to a corner where
the bar had shoved extra tables to open up the dance floor. He settled one butt
cheek on the corner of a table and leaned back. An Ace bandage was wrapped
around his left hand. Bull riders rode hurt more often than not, so that might
not be new. He hadn’t been injured on Thunder Alley, but it could have happened
in the short round; she’d gone to the concession stand rather than watch him
ride again.
    “I was sorry to hear about your mama,”
Sol said. “How’s she doing?”
    Ensuring she’d keep her hands to herself,
Georgia tucked her fingers into the rear pockets of her jeans. “It’s tough.
The doctor says the stroke could have done a lot more damage, but if she works
at the therapy, we should see a full recovery.” Georgia stopped there. She didn’t
want to share her frustrations with Sol. Her mother’s verbal skills had taken a
bad hit. She seemed to know what she wanted to say, but the right words eluded
her. Even when she found them, they came out garbled.