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

Chapter 29

29

SAWYER - JULY 24, 2004

I take a deep breath, moseying my way onto a stage that’s reputation is built on making people’s dreams come true. Watching my feet to prevent myself from tripping, I approach the mic, trying to ignore the nerves running like livewires through my veins. This is it. The last few moments before I put the fate of my music career into the hands of a roomful of people who are ready to decide if I deserve the chance I’ve been given.

I clear my throat, readying myself to sing, knowing that this day will make or break any chance I have to work with Telluride Records, and if I choke, that opportunity will be gone. I’ve thought all week about what song made the most sense to leave an impression. What would show my strengths and hide my weaknesses. And most importantly, what would set me apart from anyone else who not only performed tonight, but any other night that Blake Montgomery listened.

I decided to follow my heart and sing a song I wrote about Daisy—knowing that the only thing that makes my performance of this song, or any song, different from someone else’s is the fact that I love the girl I’m singing it for even if she doesn’t know it yet.

I close my eyes, let out a breath, and begin to strum my guitar.

The crowd doesn’t change its demeanor the way it had at The Red Fern. They continue to talk even while the band plays and my nerves swell with each passing second that I get closer to the first note I plan to sing.

My words drift over the crowd, and the volume softens by half. I do my best not to search the room for Daisy, worried that seeing her may shift my focus and let the both of us down.

I think of the first time we met with each passing line of the lyrics, of how beautiful she looked that night—though she always does—and the pain that she expressed without saying a single word. I think of our first kiss and the way I had known in that moment that I saw her. That she was worth knowing.

I think back to Hidden Lake and dancing with her near the cliff just like Pops and Nan, under cotton candy skies that would take anyone’s breath away. The way she smells like fresh picked raspberries and vanilla, and the way she crinkles her nose when she laughs. How it feels like I’m home when I wrap my arms around her and how her hands fit perfectly in mine. The way she seizes the moment she’s in and makes even ordinary things feel extraordinary.

I play the entire song with her as my muse. The love of my life. The kind of rain I would happily dance in for forever.