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

Chapter 34

34

SAWYER - JULY 26, 2004

I check the clock on the dashboard and then my review mirror for what feels like the umpteenth time as my car idles outside Daisy’s house. Given her text about our meeting being canceled, I can only assume that also means the tabloid made its way to her boss’s desk as well.

At this moment, I feel like my main concern should be my career as a singer. That’s what makes sense if that’s what I want. Doesn’t it? So why is, as I sit here, the only thing on my mind Daisy? Why am I not consumed with a dream, my dream, slipping through my fingers?

I hear a car pulling up, and glance in my rear view again. I see Daisy whipping into her driveway and all but leaping out of her car the moment she has it in park. Racing toward my driver-side door, I notice a wave of emotions written on her face and the moment I open it to meet her, she wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. She doesn’t seem to be crying but she isn’t okay. I embrace her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, telling her everything will be alright. Promising something I may not be able to deliver on, while whole-heartedly willing to do everything in my power to fulfill that promise.

She pulls away, meeting my gaze, and for a split second, I forget that things have gone to shit, that our plans are not playing out remotely how we thought they would when we both made Nashville and music our dreams. Part of me is more distracted being with her than even the worry of the world crumbling around us.

“Let’s go inside.” The warmth in her ever-happy tone still lingers, but her smile has been replaced with defeat. She releases me and I follow closely behind her, slamming my car door and moseying up the laid brick path to her front door.

Once inside, we make our way to her living room, and though I know this house is just a rental, I can’t help but think I see pieces of my girl throughout. From the very obvious daisy painting and yellow color on her walls, to the warm wood tones and sunlight that seems to seep in, as if it could never be kept out.

Taking a seat on the sofa, I pull her in close to me and give her a kiss, not wanting whatever is to come next to be said without, at the very least, showing her some sort of affection. She rotates her body and pulls both her legs to her chest, planting her head on her knees. I can tell that she is trying to build a wall of comfort before she even says a word.

“Blake knows about us.” An exaggerated groan escapes her lips, muffled by her legs.

“Did you tell him or did he see the magazine?”

Her head immediately shoots up and bewilderment replaces her sad expression. “Have you seen it? You must have. It’s awful. What do we do?” Sporadic thoughts spew from her mouth, and though this is serious, I can’t help but laugh at how quickly she bounces from each thought that crosses her mind. She frowns. “It’s not funny, Sawyer.”

I reach up and place my hand atop of her knee. “I know it’s not, but this is the first time I have ever seen you frazzled, and I also laugh when I’m not sure what to say, so, I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve seen it. Hell, I bought it.” Her eyes bug out. “The magazine was in the gas station I went to this morning.”

“You bought it? Well, so did Blake’s secretary, or whoever brought it to her attention.” Another huff escapes her. “Ugh, it was probably Victoria. She definitely submitted that picture. She was the only person who would know who we are or care enough to do that. I don’t even know why she hates me, but it’s evident that she does.”

Stroking her knee with my thumb, I take a deep breath and try to think through the situation we are now in. I recall the night of my performance, and the way that girl ran her hand across my chest right after handing me her card. I hadn’t liked her then, and I sure as hell don’t like her now. But in the end, it does little to be frustrated with her. We were bound to get caught at some point. I should have talked to Daisy about this sooner.

She waits only for a moment before shifting the conversation away from the tabloid. “I am so sorry, Sawyer. First off, I should have assumed this was all a bad idea, but it really didn’t hit me until Julie mentioned that HR doesn’t allow relationships and I had plenty of moments where I should’ve said something, I just…couldn’t. I was desperate to have you and my career, and like an idiot, I kept trying to convince myself that I could.” Pain lingers in her tone and her expression resembles defeat. “I don’t want you to give up your dream, Sawyer.” She hesitates, “I don’t want to be the reason the world lost out on not one, but two artists who had the same spark. The person who made two people’s dreams go up in smoke.” She pulls her knees closer to her chest, to comfort herself, and I hate that that comfort isn’t from me.

“First off, don’t be sorry. Really, I made the assumption that Telluride wouldn’t allow this and put my own emotions before potential consequences too. I meant to bring it up at the ranch when you caught me thinking about it, but no time ever felt like the right time.” I glide my hand down the side of her calf, then place it on my lap. “I didn’t want to ruin a good thing…” I let my statement taper off, because even though I know Daisy likes me, I don’t know if it’s anything more than that. I know ultimately that this moment is going to lead to one, or both of us, making a decision, and I don’t want to make that decision any harder for either of us. “So, what did he say? Do we have to choose?”

She goes into detail about Blake’s connection to her dad and how he was put in a situation similar to this. I wish for a moment that she would say the conversation led to us having a pass, allowing us to have our dreams and each other since he could relate, but the more she talks the more it becomes evident that it will never happen. With each passing moment, I get more lost in her and, before I know it, I can physically feel my heart shift from what I thought I wanted to what I know I want. I spit out, “Daisy, I love you.”

She pauses mid-sentence, and her face, for the very first time, doesn’t give away everything she’s thinking. Fear usually would send me to back-pedal, to change the subject, or to try and shift attention off of me or whatever I just said, but this moment is different. Not only do I not regret what I said, I mean it more than anything I have ever said in my whole life.

“Listen, I spent my whole life going with the flow, never really taking a moment to figure out what I wanted. I love music. The way the crowd, or even a single person, can be captivated by the words to a song, the way it changes something in someone or makes them feel understood. I liked the idea of sharing music with the world, really, I did, but what I didn’t know was that my world would end up being one person.”

Her eyes start to glisten, the most gentle smile written on her lips.

“So if the question is music, fame or the girl, it’s you, Daisy. It’ll always be you.”