Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  Twisting the knob, I welcomed the gush of cool air as I stepped inside my makeshift sanctuary. I grabbed a white towel from a nearby side table and patted my face before hunching over the dressing table. Glancing up at my reflection in the mirror, I didn’t expect to see a striking woman staring back.

  I spun around to see the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth seated in a chair in the corner of the room, a notebook in her lap and a recorder in her hand.

  “Dakota.” I said, slowly standing up straight.

  I wasn’t a man who got the butterflies easily, but damn if every ounce of me didn’t flutter like a love struck teenager at the sight of her. My lips pulled up at the corner as I shoved my hands in my pockets and leaned back against the vanity.

  “Beaumont,” she said, her face expressionless, not even a hint of a smile or any indication that she was happy to be there. Dressed in head to toe black, like she was going to a funeral, I resisted the urge to comment. “Shall we get started?”

  Absent was her sweet and slow Kentucky drawl. Her words came fast and were to the point, like a New Yorker without an accent.

  She clicked a pen and pressed the tip into the yellow legal pad that rested over crossed legs. Dark hair spilled in waves down her shoulders, shining against the low light of the dressing room as her full cherry lips pursed into a subdued line.

  “By the way, I go by Coco now,” she said, drawing in a deep breath and pulling her shoulders back tight. The stranger from my past oozed grace and elegance like nothing I’d ever seen before, breaking my heart just a little.

  I’d sized her up in all of thirty seconds, and I’d come to the conclusion that Dakota Andrews had grown up to be the success I always knew she’d be. It damn near made up for missing her all those years, and it was as if I’d maybe made the right decision by letting her go. She was a vision of striking accomplishment. All I’d have done was stand in the way of the person she was meant to become had she stuck with me.

  “Coco Bissett.” My eyes followed the length of her long, crossed legs, stopping on a pair of sparkling stilettos that finished off her look. She’d come a long ways from cotton sundresses and dingy old cowgirl boots. “That’s right. Had a hard time finding you on account of your new name. Congratulations.”

  “For what?”

  “On your marriage.”

  She cleared her throat, her pretty blue eyes shifting to the ground and then back into mine. “I’m divorced.”

  “Ah.” I stifled a relieved huff and ambled over to the cooler filled with ice and retrieved a couple of beers. “Congratulations either way.”

  I handed her a brown bottle, but she stuck her palm up and shook her head. “I’m here for work, Beau.”

  Time had really done a number on her, making her all buttoned-up and rolling her into one perfect package of controlled dignity. I’d only been around her two minutes and already I missed the old her – the Dakota Andrews of my youth. The one with the bright, sparkling eyes and the infectious laugh.

  It was as if someone had stolen her sunshine and hardened her into a pretty little bundle of calcified emotion. Success always did come at a price.

  My fingers worked the buttons of my shirt as I stared into the intensity of her stormy blue stare, silently willing her to smile. God, I’d missed that smile. I’d dreamed about that smile. She had a grin that could light up her whole face and lift her cheeks enough to show off the perfect Cupid’s arch of her full upper lip. I wanted to believe she was still in there, hiding somewhere and waiting for the right time to come out.

  My gaze fell upon the soft skin of her long neck, and I imagined pressing my fingers into the little indentation just beneath her jaw as I claimed her mouth. It was definitely on my agenda for the week.

  She shifted uncomfortably as I undressed, her eyes snapping to the wall behind me and then to the floor. I slipped on a fresh t-shirt emblazoned with my likeness on it and a list of tour dates on the back as required by my management.

  “I’ve got to go sign some things and meet some nice folks,” I said, “but I’ll be back. You sticking around?”

  She glanced at the diamond-encrusted watch that wrapped around her delicate wrist and lifted her eyebrows. “It’s getting late. I should head to the hotel and meet you in the morning. I didn’t realize these shows went so late.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” I placed my hand out. “You’re staying with me. At the Mason Ranch. I made that clear to your producer.”

  Dakota stood up, smoothing her hands down her pants and lifting her chained purse strap over her shoulder. “I booked a hotel. Thank you kindly for your offer, but I won’t be staying at your house.”

  She stepped toward me, but there wasn’t enough room between the door and me for her to leave yet.

  “Then the interview’s not happening.”

  Her jaw hung slightly, suspended in animation. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.” I smirked.

  “I’m here for just a few days,” she said, her tone inching into incredulous territory. “You’re telling me that if I don’t sleep at your place, I don’t get the interview?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Her face puckered as resentment boiled in her eyes, almost turning them a shade of dark, indigo blue. She lifted her chin, her neck corded and jaw clenched as she forced it all away and replaced it with a smile across her ruby lips. “You have a lot of nerve leaving me with no choice like that.”

  She pushed past me, our shoulders grazing and igniting a spark of unapologetic tension between us. Inhaling a lungful of a perfume reminiscent of sweet hay and fresh wild flowers, I said, “I have nothing to lose.”

  Dakota gripped the door, and I listened as she released a deep breath.

  “Careful out there, Kota. Those fans’ll eat you alive once they see you coming out of my dressing room looking all pretty like that.” I turned to place my hand over hers before she had a chance to leave. “Let me go out first. Distract ‘em. You can sneak out in a few minutes.”

  “Fine.” She stepped back, crossing her arms across her chest and gripping her notebook in the process. Her eyes softened ever so slightly. “But I am going to my hotel tonight. I’ll come over tomorrow.”

  It was good to see some things hadn’t changed over the years. She was still as stubborn as they came. She’d always been that way. Anyway, it was her loss. There wasn’t anything better than waking up with the sunrise and a view overlooking rolling green hills.

  Our family farm sprawled thousands of lush, green Kentucky acres under a cotton candy blue Kentucky sky. Lined with thousands of sugar maples, sycamores, and sweetgum trees and anchored by the big white farmhouse in which I’d grown up, there was no place on earth more sacred to me than the Mason Ranch.

  “I’m not calling you Coco.” Her snotty new nickname tasted like sour milk in my mouth. “Just so we’re clear. You’re still Dakota to me.”

  Her brows met in the middle and her lips parted as if she were going to fire back at me and then changed her mind.

  I dragged the palm of my hand across my jawline, drinking in one last good look at her before I threw myself to the wolves.

  I wanted to make things right.

  I wanted to make up for all the ways I’d hurt her.

  I wanted her back. The old her.

  And by God, I was going to get her.

  Chapter Four

  I used the pad of my ring finger to dab eye cream over the dark circles that had sprung up overnight. Sleeping in a strange place and seeing Beau the night before had spun me into a heightened state of anxiety that no amount of Ativan, hotel blackout curtains, or complementary chamomile tea could remedy.

  “So, how’d it go?” I set my phone on the counter and turned on the speaker as my sister’s voice echoed into the quiet space of my hotel bathroom. “What’s he like now?”

  I capped my eye cream and patted on some heavy-duty concealer before squeezing in a few eye drops to whiten the whites
of my fatigued stare. “He’s…different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Assertive? Commanding? I don’t know. I mean his presence sort of sets off this buzz of energy around anyone who comes into contact with him. People go ballistic when he walks by and women literally faint and cry and fall to their knees.”

  “Over Beau?!” Addison laughed. I supposed it seemed humorous, given the fact that she’d known him since she was a bratty little teenager and he was my hot, older boyfriend who’d come around and tease her for fun. I envied her inability to see him in this new light of his that shined so bright it nearly blinded me. “Maybe I should start listening to country music now. You know, I never really got into it out of respect for you.”

  “Whatever, Addison. You’ve never liked country music.” I laughed, shaking my head as I dabbed on some foundation.

  “Neither did you,” she razzed. It wasn’t completely true. I liked Beau’s music, at least back before the stars aligned and people started noticing his talent. He’d performed countless private concerts for me sitting in the back of his truck with his guitar in his lap as we hung out under a starry Kentucky sky. His voice was rustic yet grounded in pure Americana. His mouth and fingers worked in tandem to produce the most breathtaking music my young ears had ever heard, and everything about it was innately effortless. He was special, even back then. “What’s your plan today?”

  “I thought I’d stop and get coffee before going over to Beau’s.” I’d do just about anything to prolong the inevitable and buy a little more time. My stomach whirred and my vision blurred at the mere thought of seeing him again. I’d been able to swallow the majority of my nerves the night before – I just hoped I could do it again. And again and again. I just had to make it until Wednesday without letting him seep into the cracks of my splintered heart.

  “Let me guess, Daylight Coffee?” Addison’s voice grew muffled before she returned. “Anyway, that’s Wilder. We have a finalization meeting with the bridal florist in a half hour, so I better go. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  My clammy hand slipped from the steering wheel of the rented Toyota to tease the chain of the golden pendant dangling from my neck. Cruising the five thousand strong town of Darlington brought back an overwhelming gush of nostalgia. I drove past Darlington Community High, Becky’s Bakery on Main where Addison had once worked, Daylight Coffee, and the old one-screen movie theater on the square, but I slowed down when I noticed several new and unfamiliar shops and restaurants. Everything was right where I’d left it, but everything had changed.

  I turned back and pulled up to Daylight Coffee and strolled inside, removing my dark sunglasses and resting them on top of my head as I squinted to read the hand-printed chalkboard menu behind the bar.

  “You can go ahead of me,” I called out blindly when I heard the bells chime on the door behind me.

  “Dakota?” a woman’s voice said, drawing my name out slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it was me. I hadn’t thought about my pseudo-celebrity status being an issue in Darlington. Back home in the city, I hardly counted myself as a celebrity. I could strut the streets of Manhattan and be left perfectly alone as long as I avoided Midtown and the tourist trap areas. “Dakota, is that you?”

  I spun around, pressing my lips into a cheerful smile and fully expecting to be politely asked for an autograph. Only it wasn’t a fan. Not in that sense. Silky straight hair the color of honeyed amber swung in a lobbed bob across the delicate shoulders of my older cousin, Rebecca. Her hazel eyes crinkled happily as she brought her fingertips up to her crimson lips.

  “Rebecca,” I said, forcing a smile and placing my palm across my heart. “Hi!”

  “Oh, my Lord, Dakota,” she drawled, wrapping her lithe arms around my shoulders and leaning in for a hug. She smelled like cinnamon potpourri and fabric softener, the way I imagined a stay-at-home mom might smell. “What are you doing back in town? I didn’t know you were coming home. We haven’t seen you in…years.”

  “Just in town for work,” I said, staring over her shoulder toward a blue minivan parked in front of the store. The outline of a dark-haired little girl with ear buds hanging from her ears as she glanced down at something into her lap caused my breath to hitch.

  “You don’t say.” Rebecca studied my face as if she were recalling the last time she’d seen me and all the empty promises I’d made over the years to come see them. “Mabry’s out in the car. I’m just stopping for a coffee before I drop her off at Sunday school.”

  “Oh yeah?” My insides burned as I fought away a flurry of livewire anxiety. I’d always kept Rebecca at arms’ length for a reason.

  “How long are you in town? You should come over for dinner some night this week!” Rebecca’s mouth danced half-open in a way that told me she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Sam would love to see you, and…”

  I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t need to hear it. It was the very thing that defined me, and I was well aware.

  “Next!” the barista yelled out.

  “Do you mind if I go next?” I said to Rebecca. “Kind of in a hurry. I have to be somewhere by eight.”

  “Go ahead, darling.” Rebecca shooed me ahead in line and stood back as I placed my order.

  I ordered my coffee, slipped a five dollar bill in the tip jar, and moved down the line.

  “Coco!” the barista called out. I wasted no time grabbing my hot cup of comfort and slipping my dark glasses back over my eyes.

  “Dakota,” Rebecca called as I was seconds away from the door. “Come over any night this week. We’d love to have you. Please.” She clasped a dainty hand across her chest as a polite way of silently begging. “It would mean the world to us. To her.”

  “I’ll plan on it,” I said with a genuine nod before sprinting out the door. My heart squeezed into a dull ache at the thought of going over there. Over the years, I’d promised to come see them when the time was right. And then one year turned into three and then three into seven. Ten years later, I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I couldn’t keep watching from the sidelines through emails and photographs. I couldn’t keep saying, “Maybe next year I’ll be ready.”

  I pulled in a lungful of clean, Kentucky morning air as my shoes scuffed the sidewalk. Rebecca’s van was parked next to my rental, and I stole another glance into the backseat where Mabry played some game on her iPad. She glanced up at me, her blue eyes matching mine, and flashed a wide smile rounded off by Beau’s dimples.

  It was time.

  Chapter Five

  14 years ago

  I broke off a piece of cookie dough Pop Tart and shoved it in my mouth, seated in the high school cafeteria next to my best friend and partner in crime, Annelise. A faint September morning chill settled in our bones as we waited for the bell to ring that would allow us to flood the halls and give us just enough time before class to grab our books from our lockers and make first period.

  “There he is.” I nudged Annelise and nodded toward the chocolate-haired boy walking in with a pair of tight blue jeans and a pressed, plaid button down. His neatly combed mane was still damp, as if he were still fresh from his morning shower. “I bet he smells like fresh hay and a million bucks.”

  “He’s a junior,” Annelise said. “I found out his name. Beaumont Mason. His parents own that big farm outside of town.”

  “I wonder if he has a girlfriend?” Not that it would matter anyway. I was an invisible freshman with a penchant for sticking close to my studies. Some may have even called me nerdy. I preferred bookish.

  “Probably.”

  The morning bell rang three times. I tugged on my shirt, which was a little tight on me since my boobs had decided to double in size over the summer, and stood up to fling my backpack over my shoulders.

  “See you at lunch?” Annelise called out, and I nodded in return.

  I traipsed down the hallway to the freshman lockers, pulled out my AP-English book, and slammed the orange door shut. Hurrying to
ward the second floor, I stopped short at a drinking fountain to wash down the Pop Tart crumbs that still stuck to my teeth.

  Ice cold water streamed across my lips as I gulped down small metallic sip after sip. Without any sort of warning, someone pummeled into me, smashing my mouth against the rusty metal spout. Warmth spread from my lips, as if they’d been stung, and my teeth radiated with pain.

  “Ow!” I yelled out, pulling away. My hand flew to my mouth to make sure my teeth were still all intact. When I pulled my hand away, I saw red. Literally. Blood coated my fingers.

  “I’m so sorry,” a boy drawled. A warm, steady hand palmed my shoulder.

  I glanced up into a fantastically golden pair of brown eyes that belonged to the boy whose name I’d only learned that morning.

  “Jackson, you asshole,” he yelled out toward a group of guys climbing the stairs in the distance. His free hand flew to the back of his neck, massaging it as his dark brows lifted in apology. “My buddy shoved me into you. I’m so sorry.”

  I dabbed the back of my hand against my mouth and checked it. The bleeding seemed to have subsided, but only slightly. My cheeks burned hot with crimson embarrassment. The boy I’d been crushing on from afar since the first day of school was standing in front of me for the first time ever, and he was going to forever remember me as the dorky freshman with the bleeding lips.

  “You need me to walk you to the nurse?” he offered. “Looks like you got cut there. Maybe we should make sure you don’t need stitches?”

  “Is it that bad?!” I frantically reached into my purse and pulled out a mirror, examining my lips and panicking when they seemed to be growing more swollen, throbbing harder by the second.

  “Nah, it’s not that bad,” he said with a half-smile, his eyes pausing on my mouth and making me a million times more self-conscious. “Here, come with me.”

  That day began like any other day – boring and ordinary. But then it all changed the second he took my hand and pulled me down the hall. Electric currents ran from his hand to mine, chasing up my arm and settling in my heart before flurrying around in my stomach. Beaumont Mason was touching me. Taking me with him, wherever we were going. Taking care of me: a nobody freshman.