She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Chapter 10

10

DAISY - JUNE 18, 2004

If anyone would have asked me even a year ago if I’d follow a stranger to a bar, I would have most likely laughed in their face. The chances of me being out late with friends prior to moving here was unlikely, even when I was a teenager, so this moment is definitely one for the books—but not one I’ll be rushing to tell my mother about.

Approaching the front of the bar, I notice the hanging neon sign. Two mirrored hound dogs sit atop the name The Red Fern. It exudes an iconic burnt orange glow and I can’t help but wonder how it hasn’t caught my attention before while walking down the sidewalk here on Broadway.

We follow Rhett into the bar, and the moment I cross the barrier, a smile brushes my face. I don’t know why I was expecting the bar to be a dive, but it’s not. Something about it reminds me of the small, quaint bars of Tansy Bay. Wild game is hung sporadically on the walls, along with elaborate bordered mirrors with beer brand logos made of stained glass on their surface, and the bar top appears to be pennies trapped in epoxy. Nothing about this place flashes money or fame. There isn’t a crowd so big you can barely move from place to place. It feels cozy and welcoming, like a mom and pop not worried about all the unnecessary extras all the other bars on the strip seem to have. The funny part about it is, looking around the room, you can see that what they lack in aesthetics doesn’t affect the crowd one bit. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. It isn’t a lowly crowd, in fact, it seems to be more genuine cowboys, young locals, and less flashy travelers. It’s nice, in a sense. Even though it is a bar, it feels a bit like a family gathering instead of being filled with a bunch of attention seekers.

The stage looks as if it has seen traffic since the very day it was built. The varnish is worn in obvious places, trailing to and from each location a band member sits, as well as the most frequented spot—center stage, right where the mic is. The smile on my face has only deepened since arriving. A small laugh seeps through my lips at the stark realization that I actually like this place even more than The Westmore.

“I know this isn’t anythin’ like you’re used to, but what do ya think?” Rhett asks.

“I’ll be honest. I had low expectations before walking through the door, to the point I was questioning why I followed a stranger here, but I’m impressed.” I smile, glancing at Kaylee and then the rest of the bar. “I’m shocked no one talks about this place.”

“Hey, well the best kept secrets are, just that, secrets,” the handsome cowboy chuckles and continues, “but, truly, this bar is just targeted for a different audience than The Westmore. They made it a point to cater to the needs of the locals, more so than all the wannabe cowboys and whatever crews seem to roll with them. Just wait until ya hear the music tonight.”

He has this satisfied look on his face, like he’s privy to some fantastic scheme I don’t know about. It should annoy me, but something about this guy’s excitement is infectious. He isn’t spending his time flirting with Kaylee or me, not that she’d flirt back, which makes me believe he isn’t some evil character luring us to his lair and he most likely has no ill intentions towards us. He honestly seems rather trustworthy, and I barely know the guy, so if he was a killer and that was his angle, he would be great at it.

His lips tug up into a satisfied smirk before he gestures for us to follow him toward the stage.

“This is the best spot in the house. Ya ain’t gonna miss a single bead of sweat from the singers if you stay here. I bet they’ll start any minute,” he says, nodding toward the stage where the band seems to have just finished setting up. “I’m gonna wrangle myself a cold one. If ya need me, I’ll be over there.” He motions toward the bar, gives a wink, and walks away.

A huge sigh comes from my left as I watch him leave. “That guy is up to something, Daisy. I’m only here because you seemed excited to try out a new place, but keep your guard up with that one.” She sends a distrustful glance his way. “You never know who’s got the right intentions and who doesn’t.”

My lips purse a moment, and I wonder if something happened that leads to her lack of trust in people, only to realize that overly trusting a stranger is far worse. Offering her a soft, understanding smile, I nod in agreement. “You make a good point, and honestly, I don’t disagree. It seems like he’s got an agenda, and I got a bit caught up in the idea of hearing someone he stuck his neck out for.”

“Okay, but I wouldn’t make it a habit. Not everyone is as well-intentioned as you. While I’m willing to deck a cowboy if need be, it’s hard to run a coffee shop from jail,” Kaylee teases, bumping her hip against mine.

“Now, that’s a sight worth seeing,” I counter, bumping her hip back. “I promise this will be a once-off situation. Everyone’s got a dream, and I can’t make them all come true anyway. Following strangers probably shouldn’t be something I make a habit of.” I turn to look towards the cowboy once more, noting how everyone around him seems to really enjoy his presence. “You have to admit, though, he has an undeniable ability to draw in a crowd.”

“Yeah and so does a used car salesman.” She rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the stage. “Oh, look, the first singer is heading out.”

“Everyone please welcome Sawyer Mason to the stage.”

Gentle applause sounds around us and we too join in. I notice the singer coming from the left, so I turn to face them fully. I’ve always felt a softness for the person who gets the first set spot, knowing that it will set a standard for the remainder of the night. I have to consciously keep my jaw from hitting the floor as the most beautiful man approaches the mic. His hair is dark, nearly as dark as mine, with a slight warmth to its wavy texture. His skin is tan, like he works outside more often than not, every inch of him kissed by the sun, kissed by the gods. And his eyes contrast his dark features so much that I can notice the piercing light green color even from this distance. He smiles in a way that exudes confidence, just as bright and beautiful as he is. I don’t usually find myself flustered at the sight of someone, but I can feel my heart flutter in my chest. Yep, no doubt about it, his looks alone have grabbed my attention, and probably every other girl’s in the room as well.

The music starts and my gut falls to the floor. This tune…it’s specifically engraved in my soul. My eyes remain glued on him, even as my hands begin to tremble. He doesn’t have to sing a single word for me to know the song he’s about to perform.

This is not possible.

He sings, and it’s like every word both elates and breaks me. What are the odds someone would sing this song? And even as my heart clenches in my chest, making it impossibly hard to breathe, I can’t stop listening. It’s like an irresistible force pulling me in with no escape.

This can’t be real.

With each passing line, I’m irresistibly drawn to him, inching toward the stage. It feels as if my dad’s soul is right there in front of me, and my body continues to creep closer to a ghost of the man who has always had my entire heart. Every line hits me harder and harder, breaking me to pieces like an explosion, leaving my soul shattered in its wake.

I need to leave.

The song comes to an end, and just like that, my dad’s ghost is gone, and in its place is a handsome stranger. We make eye contact and the hairs on my arms stand up, his performance haunting me in the most beautifully damning way.

“You alright?” Kaylee grasps my wrist, slightly tugging me in her direction to get my attention.

“Yeah, my dad used to sing me that song.” I fight to suppress the slew of writhing emotions threatening to overwhelm me and bring me to my knees—or tears to my eyes. I let out a soft huff. “I just want to leave. Can we leave?”

“Yeah, uh, of course we can…” Confusion is written all over my friend’s face, yet she doesn’t question me. She grabs my wrist and leads me in the direction of the door.

Thank God, because I can barely focus.

My mind reels, and I think I’m in shock. I don’t know if it was just hearing the song, or how it made me feel like my dad’s presence was physically in the same room. I turn to look back at the stage while we shuffle through the crowd. The singer is gone, but something is telling me we should stop. That I should stop.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing Kaylee’s attention and halting our effort to escape.

She offers me a puzzled look.

“Let’s head toward the bar. I want to give the barkeep my card.” I don’t want her to ask any questions so I add, “He was really good. I mean, really, really good. Right? The song just threw me.” My emotions cloud my ability to think, but my gut says that song aside, he’s worth hearing again. “I want to leave my card for him. I think we found the spark.”

There’s so much more I want to say, but it’s like my brain and mouth have stopped working in unison with one another. I don’t even know what to think, what to feel . I need to leave. I need to get out of this place and clear my head. We reach the bar, and I fumble in my purse for my card. But it’s like my fingers don’t work anymore. My hands tremble, my heart hammering so loud in my chest it’s a miracle no one else can hear it.

Kaylee’s hand steadies mine. Removing it from her path, she grabs one of my cards and offers me a knowing look before handing it to the barkeep. “Please inform the owner that this is for the gentleman who just played. We had something come up and need to be on our way.”

“Yes, Mam, I’ll make sure Mr. Southers gets it.” He tucks my card into his front pocket and then we rush for the door.