All's Fair

by Suzie Quint

  All's Fair

  by

  Susie Quint

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Suzie Quint

  Cover by Valerie Tibbs

  Quint, Suzie (2011-10-10). A Knight in Cowboy Boots Kindle Edition.

  Dedication

  For Dad

  I miss you.

  All’s Fair

  "Dammit!"

  "Daddy. You're not supposed to swear in front of me."

  "Shit."

  "Daddy!"

  "He-e-eck."

  Sol caught himself before some other taboo word escaped from his mouth. Or worse still, a whole string of them.

  Two deep breaths. Calm.

  How was he supposed oto be calm when his wife was out on a date?

  "I'm sorry, sweetie. Daddy's got a foul mouth. You shouldn't repeat anything I say."

  His blonde, blue-eyed nine-year-old daughter, the spitting image of her mother, rolled her eyes because, yeah, he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know.

  "So who is this"—he wanted to say Bozo, but he didn't want to make his daughter feel disloyal if she liked the Bozo—"guy?"

  "His name's Mike. He goes to Mama's gym."

  Great. Some muscle-bound doofus who probably didn't have two brain cells to rub together.

  "So . . . you like him?"

  It was an important question. Georgia didn't subscribe to the school of thought that kept her from introducing her dates to her daughter until she decided they were keepers. Just the opposite, in fact. If Eden didn't like the guy right off, he got deep-sixed in a big hurry.

  They were a package deal, Georgia liked to say, and both of them had veto power.

  It kept Sol from having to intervene in all but the most serious cases.

  Sol watched his daughter's face. She scrunched her mouth over to one side as she contemplated the question. "He's okay, I guess. He's kinda nervous around me."

  Shit.

  That meant Doofus was smart enough to know Eden's opinion mattered.

  "So what are she and Mike doing on their date?" It was all he could do to not sneer Mike's name.

  "They went to the carnival."

  "And they didn't take you?"

  Eden shrugged.

  "You didn't want to go to the carnival with them?"

  "Yeah. But I wanted to see you more."

  Sol's heart swelled. His daughter had chosen him over a carnival.

  "You know, those aren't mutually exclusive events."

  "Huh?"

  "That means you can do both. How'd you like to go to the carnival with your old daddy?"

  His daughter's grin was the only answer he needed.

  ###

  Sol pulled a thread of pink cotton candy from his daughter's blond hair and sucked it from his fingers. How she managed to get it everywhere was beyond him.

  She'd dragged him over to a gaggle of her friends, hanging onto his hand as if he were a helium-filled balloon that might float away before her friends had the chance to be suitably impressed with her daddy who "rode bulls at the rodeo."

  He pushed his cowboy hat back on his head and gazed out over the crowd. They'd been there half an hour, and he still hadn't caught sight of Georgia.

  The heat was pervasive. Sol lifted his hat to wipe sweat from his forehead. Paved over as they were, cities held onto their heat even after the sun went down, and Dallas was in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave that made him long for the cool breezes of his family's ranch.

  The forecast predicted a storm coming in. It couldn't come soon enough for him. He was riding later, but the Mesquite venue was an indoor arena, so rain wouldn't create a problem. As he settled his hat back on his head, he saw Georgia.

  The sunlight flashed on her golden hair, creating, for a moment, the illusion of a halo. She wore tight-fitting cutoff jeans, sandals, and a western shirt with the tails knotted at the waist over a ribbed tank top that stretched tight across the full breasts she'd had since eighth grade. As usual, his first glimpse of her took Sol's breath away.

  Sol took a step to his right, trying to get a bead on who she was with.

  The shifting crowd let him catch glimpses.

  Medium height . . . Dark hair . . . Stocky . . . A pony tail . . . Biceps the size of Sol's thighs.

  Holy hell. The guy was built like a Sherman tank.

  Physical intimidation wasn't going to work.

  That was okay.

  Sol had plenty of other ammunition in his arsenal.

  "Hey, honey. Look. There's your mama."

  Eden was off, racing toward her mother.

  At the sound of her daughter's voice, Georgia's head came up. A look of delight was followed by one of terror that almost made Sol laugh out loud. He supposed that said more about him than it did about her.

  He moseyed after his daughter who had flown into her mother's arms like they'd been separated for months instead of mere hours, Eden's typical greeting for the people she loved. Sol wasn't looking forward to the day she started dating.

  But that was a problem for another day. Bozo was today's problem.

  ###

  "You know me. I get bored easy," Sol said, explaining why Georgia should ride the Ferris Wheel with Eden instead of him. "Then I'll rock the car. Eden'll deafen me, screaming in my ear, then she'll try ‘n choke me, hangin' on so she don't fall out. And then we probably will fall out. It's better if you go."

  Georgia gazed at him without saying a word, sending the tacit message that he'd better not try to pull a fast one.

  "Mike?" she crooked her finger, then pulled him aside, out of Sol's earshot, but he could guess what she was saying.

  "Daddy?" Eden had ahold of his hand again.

  "Yeah?"

  "I want to ride with you."

  "Don't worry, honey. We'll ride together. Maybe the teacups. You like that ride."

  "That's a baby's ride."

  Sol felt his eyebrows rise. Damn, he hated seeing his little girl grow up. "Okay. The Tilt-A-Whirl then. That's my favorite." A lot of people would be surprised by that, expecting a bull rider to like the wilder rides, but nothing the carnival could offer was as wild as getting on the back of a one-ton bull.

  Bozo trailed behind when Georgia returned.

  "Come on, baby," Georgia said, taking Eden's hand to go stand in line.

  Sol and Bozo settled down on the sidelines to watch. She’d introduced Sol as her ex-husband, a fact he had a hard time remembering emotionally. He didn’t know why; they’d been divorced far longer than they’d been married.

  "Where you from?" Sol asked.

  "What makes you think I'm not from here?"

  Sol's laugh was genuine. "You don't sound Texan."

  Bozo shrugged. "I'm from Indianapolis. My company transferred me to Dallas six months ago."

  "What do you do?"

  "I'm an architect."

  "Huh. You don't look like no architect," Sol said.

  "Looks can be deceiving."

  "I reckon so."

  Two guys walked by hand-in-hand. Bozo's head turned, tracking them until they were past where he and Sol stood. If he hadn't been watching closely, Sol might not have noticed the twitch at the corner of Bozo's mouth where his upper lip tried to curl into a sneer.

  Was the guy homophobic?

  That wouldn't go over with Georgia, but she'd probably read Bozo the riot act and open his eyes and mind the way she'd done with Sol. Nope, he couldn't count on that to do the job.

  "How long you been seeing Georgia?" Sol asked.

  Bozo turned back to watch the ride.
"Not long. This is only our second date, but we see each other a couple of times a week at the gym."

  Sol looked down at his cowboy boots. He scuffed a toe in the dirt.

  "Georgia says you're crazy."

  Sol threw back his head as a laugh burst out of him. She'd taken one look at him and gone into damage-control mode. This was going to be fun.

  "She says I shouldn't believe a word you say."

  "Of course, she does." He was grinning like a loon.

  "So why don't you hit me with your best shot, so we can get it out of the way."

  Sol shook his head. He could almost like this guy. Too bad he was dating Georgia. "Nah, there ain't nothing wrong with Georgia. She's a great gal."

  The smile Sol gave Bozo got a frown in return, as if he were wondering what Georgia thought Sol would tell him that had merited whatever stern warning she'd inflicted on him.

  After the Ferris Wheel, the four of them rode the Tilt-A-Whirl. Sol tipped the guy at the controls five bucks to give them a good ride. Between that and the years Sol had invested in learning which way to throw his weight, they got a great ride. Even Georgia grinned at him when it was over.

  After that, they got candied apples. As they headed for the bumper cars, Georgia took off the shirt she'd been wearing over her tank top and tied the sleeves around her hips. Sol didn't like the way Bozo noticed that sweat made her top cling to her breasts. It made it difficult to rein in his competitive drive. He tried anyway, not wanting to look too much like an ass with Eden beside him, but her screaming laughter every time he T-boned Bozo or Georgia egged him on. Not that Georgia and Bozo didn't get a few licks of their own in. Georgia's satisfied smirk when she finally broadsided him kicked him into high gear. All thoughts of restraint evaporated like a morning mist on a hot day. After that, it was all out war. Even with Georgia and Bozo double teaming him, Sol knew he'd come out the winner.

  Except bumper cars wasn't the game he needed to win.

  Eden was showing signs of a sugar high, so Georgia suggested the Merry-Go-Round to calm her down. Sol and Mike both groaned, but Georgia took Eden on it anyway.

  The two men stood at the metal railing that surrounded the ride and watched Sol's women go around in circles.

  Sol was torn. Should he make his play now? He might not get another chance, but moving too soon could blow it.

  "You know there's nothing you could say about Georgia that would make me back off," Bozo said, making Sol's decision for him. "I haven't met many women like her. She's so down-to-earth and real. Not a phony bone in her body."

  Sol bit back his smile. "Yeah, that's our Georgia. As real as real gets."

  For a moment, he thought Bozo hadn't caught the trace of dry sarcasm he'd let into his voice. This wasn't going to work if he didn't make Bozo drag it out of him. Hell, it probably wasn't going to work anyway.

  Finally, Bozo asked, "What?"

  Sol shook his head. "Nothin'."

  Another long pause.

  "No, you said 'as real as real gets,' but you didn't mean it."

  "Sure, I did."

  "No. Tell me what you meant."

  Sol sighed as though he didn't want to say it. "Well, I'm sure you done noticed Georgia's built like a brick shithouse."

  Bozo laughed. "You know I've never exactly gotten that comparison, but yeah, I know what you mean."

  Sol turned his head toward Bozo. "It ain't occurred to you that her tits are too perfect? I mean, shit. When've you ever seen boobs like that that weren't airbrushed?"

  Bozo stared at Sol, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. His gaze shifted to the carousel as Georgia and Eden came around. He tracked Georgia until they disappeared again.

  "Really?" Bozo finally said.

  Sol kept quiet, giving Bozo the chance to think it through.

  "Man, she wears this little spandex thing to the gym, but I never thought . . ."

  Sol fought a smile. He had him. Bozo had taken the bait. Now Sol had to set the hook.

  "Well, she's proud of 'em. They're a work of art. Hell, her whole body's a work of art."

  "Her whole . . . ?"

  "Butt implants. They're not as perfect. You can kinda feel what's real and what ain't if you're paying attention. But damn, they make her jeans look good."

  Bozo's mouth was hanging open again.

  "I'm sure she'll tell you eventually. After all, it ain't something you tell folks 'til you've known 'em a while."

  Bozo was silent. Was the guy into physical perfection enough to be put off?

  Patience wasn't Sol's strong suit, but he forced himself to wait.

  Finally, Bozo said, "I guess it's not that big a deal. So she wanted a better body. I can't throw stones about that. It's why I work out."

  Damn.

  Sol turned around and leaned back, his elbows cocked on top of the railing. This guy wasn't supposed to be okay with this.

  Maybe it was a show. Maybe it would eat at him until it poisoned his attraction to Georgia. The possibility was too chancy to count on.

  The two guys he'd seen earlier holding hands walked by.

  Oh, no. He couldn't do that.

  Could he?

  Bozo wouldn't buy it anyway.

  Or would he?

  He'd already bought that Georgia's more obvious attributes were store-bought, but would he believe there was a darker reason she'd needed them?

  Oh, hell.

  "I'm real glad you feel that way. Georgia deserves someone who accepts her for who she is. And who she was."

  It seemed to take Bozo a few seconds to translate what Sol had said.

  "Who she was? What do you mean?"

  Sol took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this? If Bozo told Georgia, she'd kill him dead. And he'd deserve it.

  "Georgia ain't the name she was christened with."

  Bozo frowned as if he were trying to follow the implication.

  This was it. Last chance to stop himself. Instead, he said, "She was named . . . George."

  "George? Why would her parents name her that?"

  Sol shot him a meaningful look. The guy wasn't really that dense, was he?

  "No! I don't believe it."

  Of course, he didn't. Any fool could see Georgia was all woman, but Sol was committed now, so he just shrugged, as if to say it was up to Bozo to decide what he believed.

  Bozo watched Georgia and Eden ride past them again.

  "She can't be. I mean . . . Eden looks just like her."

  "Eden's her cousin's kid," Sol said. "She was a baby when her mom died in a car wreck, so we adopted her."

  "No. No court would let a kid go to two—"

  Deviants? Sol was pretty sure that was what Bozo had been about to say. Or something equally offensive.

  "You'd be surprised how little the courts care when the arrangements are made within the family."

  Bozo stared at the Merry-Go-Round. Georgia and Eden passed them three or four times before he looked at Sol. "Does she . . . I mean, is she . . . ?"

  Sol couldn't completely repress the grin that wanted to spread across his face, but he managed to just let the corners of his lips quirk up. "Anatomically correct?"

  Bozo nodded.

  "As much as they can do with surgery and hormones." Sol had no idea what that really meant, but he figured Bozo didn't either. "Of course, she can't have kids."

  Bozo's face was a movie screen of warring emotions. Sol saw the moment he remembered Georgia's warning. "No. Georgia said you'd tell some wild story about her."

  Sol smiled. It had taken him long enough to get here. "A'course, she did. What else would she say? But there are some things even hormones ain't gonna change. Like her voice."

  Georgia's lower range alto sometimes got her mistaken for a man on the phone, but it was damned sexy in bed.

  The reminder cinched the deal. Bozo believed him.

  "When did you get together with . . . Georgia?"

  He seemed to choke on her name. Sol had hoped Bozo wouldn't get to
this question. Still . . . if this was what it took to finish him off, Sol would make the sacrifice.

  "When she was still George."

  "But that would make you . . ."

  Sol cocked an eyebrow, as though daring him to finish the thought.

  "But you ride bulls," Bozo said as if that proved something.

  "You'd be surprised what a guy will do to fit in. This here's Texas, you know." Where men were expected to be macho.

  Bozo leaned his forearms against the fence. His head dropped and he stared at the ground as though trying to adjust to Sol's revelations.

  Now for the coup de grâce.

  "Just so you know. I still love George—Georgia. But the changes . . ." Sol shook his head. "They just don't turn me on. That don't mean I won't get a couple of my cowboy buddies and stomp you if you hurt him . . . her."

  That much at least was true.

  ###

  Georgia charged the gate that led to Mesquite rodeo's staging area. Someone caught her arm. "Whoa, there. You got a pass?"

  "No, I don't have a pass." Georgia tried to shake him off.

  "Sorry. This is a restricted area. You got to have a pass." He was a small man. A banty rooster who compensated for his small stature by acting more macho than the cowboy he could never be.

  "Where do I get a pass?"

  The guy pointed at three people nearby. "You gotta see the rodeo secretary."

  Georgia took a step in the direction he'd pointed.

  "But she don't give ‘em to buckle bunnies," he sneered, his tone grating in its superiority.

  She pivoted on one foot. "Buckle bunny? You think I'm a buckle bunny?"

  The guy backed up a step.

  She was so pissed off she was shaking. "Rodeo cowboys are the most worthless, pitiful, pathetic excuse for a man that's ever walked God's green Earth. They're scum. If I needed a kidney to save my life and the only possible donor was a rodeo cowboy, I wouldn't take it. Not even if he got down on his hands and knees and begged me to. Not even if I had a dozen kids who depended on me to feed them. Nothing—NOTHING—could make these overgrown children attractive."

  The gatekeeper cringed. "You still need a pass," he said in a thin voice.

  Georgia's anger coiled tighter. If this little weasel of a man thought he was going to keep her from killing Sol—