Georgia's Gamble [A Historical Fiction Novel; The Pratt Chronicles Book 1]

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Georgia Pratt

The end of the social was a mix of amusement and relief. The social gathering had been an unexpected diversion, and as the evening drew to a close, I couldn't help but relish the playful banter with Tucker. Even though he had taken me for a mere stablehand, his charm and wit had provided some much-needed entertainment.

"Looks like someone's in a good mood," Katelyn teased as we collected the remnants of the empty plates so that they could be washed.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Oh, you noticed, did you? Just had a bit of fun with Mr. Tucker. Nothing too serious."

"Hmm, he was nothing like Holden Beckett back in Dallas though! That man was a dream!" Kate sighed wistfully, blowing a strand of her golden hair out of her face dramatically.

Holden Beckett was indeed a dream— or a nightmare. From where I stand, Holden Beckett seemed like he's stepped straight out of a film—an impeccably crafted figure of what society deems ideal. He had the tall, athletic build of a cowboy and the polished charm of a high-society socialite, and he wears both personas like a well-tailored suit. His hazel eyes, always glinting with that practiced sparkle, seem less like windows to the soul and more like part of a well-rehearsed performance.

His dark hair always perfectly styled, and his mustache so meticulously groomed it could have been sculpted by an artist. It was clear he paid as much attention to his appearance as he did to his demeanor, and while he was undeniably handsome, there was something a bit too polished about him.

When he spoke, his words flowed with an effortless grace, like he's delivering lines from a play he knows by heart. His stories about frontier adventures and high-society soirées were entertaining enough, but they often felt rehearsed—like he was reciting scripts rather than sharing genuine experiences. Every gesture, every laugh, so perfectly measured that it sometimes felt like he was more of a character than a real person.

To me, Holden's world seemed like it had been meticulously curated to fit an ideal rather than reflect true passion or spontaneity. His charm was so smooth and calculated that it started to feel a bit hollow. It's as if he was playing a role in a story that was written to meet all the right expectations, and while he might be the perfect man on paper, he didn't quite capture the depth or unpredictability I find truly captivating.

There was no denying that he was a consummate gentleman, and in the eyes of others, he probably embodied everything they could want. But for me, the polished façade made him feel like a set piece rather than a genuine connection. It's almost as if he was too perfect, and that perfection left me feeling detached. I couldn't help but wish for something more raw and real, something that would break the mold and reveal the person behind the impressive exterior. A little Jane Austen of me, huh? I wouldn't consider myself a hopeless romantic, but I was a romantic nevertheless.

Aunt Lisanne and Ma were already in the kitchen, winding down from the evening with their last glass of bourbon. Aunt Lisanne, with her ever-present warmth, greeted us with a knowing smile. "So, how did our dear Georgia fare with Mr. Tucker?"

"Oh, Aunt Lisanne," I began, "he was quite the character. If you must know, I might have had a little fun with him."

Ma's eyes sparkling with mischief, joined in. "What kind of fun, dear? Did you manage to set him straight after the stable ordeal?"

"Let's just say he's in for a bit of a surprise," I replied, suppressing a grin. "He seemed quite taken with me, but I'm more interested in showing him that there's more to this ranch than just his ego."