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

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Benjamin Tucker

I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't enjoyed the last few weeks with Georgia. She was different than any girl I'd met, and I've met plenty of ranchers' daughters growing up in Montana. They were all bland—well, maybe except Marceline, she had a lovely bosom, sorry, sorry! Voice. She was very...spoken.

Nevertheless, we made good progress, Georgia and I. I've never seen a horse move the way Arlo moved for her. It was intriguing, especially since he seemed so finely tuned to Georgia, but would spread his wings for me in a heartbeat if I just asked properly. I just had to learn to ask. Apparently, it was that simple.

Today had been no different, though I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel different. There was something about the way Georgia looked at me, something in the way her amber eyes lingered on mine a little too long, that got me thinking. Maybe it was nothing, but hell, it felt like something. It's funny, a man can spend his whole life with women around him and still be clueless when it comes to understanding them.

She wasn't like the other girls. Georgia had something—a spark, maybe. A fire that burned just under the surface. Most girls out here were content with their lives, content to settle into the rhythm of ranch life, but not her. She had a restless energy about her, like she was always searching for something, even if she didn't know what it was.

I leaned against the fence, watching Arlo as he nuzzled into my hand, and let out a slow breath. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a soft orange glow over the fields, and the air had that cool edge that signaled the end of the day. I scratched Arlo behind the ears, and he let out a contented snort. "You're a good boy, aren't ya?" I murmured, more to myself than to the horse.

Arlo's ears twitched, but he didn't move away. He was slowly learning to trust me, just not as much as he trusted Georgia, but it meant something. It meant we were getting somewhere. I'd seen the way he responded to her, how he moved like he could read her mind, and it had made me curious. I'd spent hours working with him, trying to figure out his quirks, trying to understand how she did it.

I shook my head, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. It wasn't just the horse that had me intrigued. It was her. Georgia Pratt. She was a mystery, one I was determined to solve.

I thought back to the way she had laughed earlier, that light, carefree sound that had echoed through the stables. It had been easy, natural, like she wasn't trying to be anything other than herself. And then there was the way she had looked at me, her eyes bright with mischief as she tossed that handful of feed in my direction. I hadn't seen that coming, but I couldn't say I didn't enjoy it.

And that moment when our eyes met...well, that had been something else entirely. There had been something in the air between us, something electric. I could still feel the ghost of her skin under my fingers, the warmth of her hand as I'd let mine brush against hers. For a moment, I'd thought...well, it didn't matter what I'd thought. What mattered was that I'd felt something, something real, and it had taken me by surprise.

I was just a jockey, after all. I worked with horses, not people. I wasn't supposed to be getting tangled up in complicated feelings. But Georgia wasn't just anyone. She was different, and I couldn't help but wonder what that meant for us.

The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts, and I glanced up to see Monty (or was it Quinn? Everytime I spoke to him he insisted to be called Monty, I dunno) heading toward the house. He didn't see me, too focused on whatever was going on inside his head, and I was grateful for that. Monty was a good guy, but he was also Georgia's brother, and the last thing I needed was him figuring out I'd been standing here thinking about his sister.