Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  She tore off her apron and threw it on the counter, revealing a tiny hint of a waist wrapped in a studded belt buckle. A white cotton tank top hugged her upper body, displaying her rack and the way they bounced a little with each step. Daisy hooked her arm into my elbow as we headed outside.

  The cool November night air brought a sobering shock to my system, and under the pale moonlight I found myself attracted to the first girl who’d made me do a double take since Dakota, and on the heels of recently discovering Dakota had married and moved on, I welcomed it, shoving what guilt I felt deep down until I could barely feel it anymore.

  We ran across the busy road, our feet shuffling toward the bus under the shade of night.

  “Wait a minute,” Daisy said as we approached the tour bus wrapped with my name and likeness. “That’s a fancy bus. Beau Mason, Beau Mason. That sounds familiar. It sounds kind of country. I don’t listen to country music.”

  “Well, you’re missing out, sweetheart,” I drawled. I pulled open the door of the bus and climbed up. “You coming in, or are you just going to stand there pretending like you’re not intrigued by me?”

  “I’m not,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not intrigued.”

  “Right,” I smirked.

  “I’ll come in,” she said, “but only to make sure you get to bed. I don’t want you hitting your head on something or throwing up all over yourself.”

  “I’m not that far gone, sugar.”

  She followed me up into the bus, and I reached for her hand to pull her in. It wasn’t quite fireworks. There wasn’t a spark. There was no magic. But it felt different. She wasn’t a groupie or a raving fan. She wasn’t crying or throwing herself at me. She was just authentic, and it’d been years since I’d been around anyone with the kind of authenticity that could put a man at ease.

  She took a seat on a sofa inside my bus, running her hands along the fabric and taking it all in. “So you live on this thing?”

  “I do,” I said, sitting next to her. She smelled like the bar. Like cigarettes and bourbon and spilled beer. But the second our eyes met, I forgot all about it. My glance fell to her lips and the way she tugged and toyed them as if it were second nature. But all I could think about was crushing them with mine.

  And so I did.

  No woman in years had ever told me no.

  I’d been conditioned to function in one mode only whenever a pretty girl moseyed into my bus.

  It was the only way I knew how to operate, like an entitled, arrogant little prick with too much money and not enough good sense to know the difference between breaking hearts and fulfilling fantasies. The only intelligent thing I'd ever done in my twenties was stay the fuck away from Dakota Andrews, though ironically, she was the only person who could bring me back down to earth.

  With my lips on Daisy’s, my hand gripped the back of her neck, desperately tasting what I hoped might turn into something someday. Loneliness crushed me, and finding out Dakota had moved on for good sunk me like stone.

  “Beau, stop! Stop!” Daisy pushed me off her, her brows furrowed. She stood up, tugging her top down into place. “Are you insane?”

  My hand covered my mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, you weren’t.” She crossed her arms. But she hadn’t walked out yet. That was a good sign. “Do you normally kiss complete strangers like that?”

  The truth? Yes.

  “Only when they’re pretty like you,” I said, hoping for an ounce of redemption but knowing how utterly pathetic I sounded.

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’ve got some work to do, Beau. I don’t know you, but something’s not right in there.” She pointed toward my heart. At least she wasn’t pointing to my head. “Maybe you’re looking for love. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe I represent something you want. But you can’t just kiss me. Kissing is something you do with someone you love.” She clasped her hand across her heart. “To me, kissing is very personal. You can’t just kiss me, Beau. Not like that.”

  I stood up, keeping a safe distance and resting my hands on my hips. “You’re right, Daisy. You’re right about everything. And I’m sorry.”

  I brushed past her, heading toward the back of the bus.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  I turned to face her. “To bed.”

  Her face fell a little, as if she didn’t quite want me to go yet. “You tired?”

  “Not really.”

  “We can still talk.” Her tone was lighter, a little airier than just a second ago. “As long as you don’t kiss me again.”

  We collapsed back on the sofa, talking about life and everything in between until the sun came up. And when it was time for her to go, she slipped on a pair of sunglasses from her purse and stood up.

  “That went by awful fast,” I said as the fatigue of the night before began to settle in. I glanced at my watch. My driver would be checking in soon. Most of my crew was on other buses or staying in hotels. My bus was my sanctuary – the only home I’d known in years. I glanced at Daisy standing there in her jeans and tank top, and I reached over to grab a tour jacket and handed it to her. “Looks pretty cold out there this morning.”

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Beau?” Daisy asked, slipping the jacket across her shoulders. “What do you do on the road during holidays?”

  I’d completely forgotten it was Thanksgiving that week. Most days I didn’t know what day it was, though I knew fall had come because of the changing leaves. “Maybe get dinner at a diner with some of the guys?”

  It was usually just another day for me. I’d call home. Say hi to my parents and sisters. That was the extent of my Thanksgivings these days.

  “If you’re going to be in town tomorrow, you should come by my parents’ house,” she said. “We love having company. You’re more than welcome. I promise my family won’t bite.”

  She twirled a strand of icy blonde hair around her finger and smiled. Apparently she’d forgiven me for kissing her hours before.

  The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could let Daisy leave and walk out of my bus, never seeing her again. Or I could meet her family, spend a little more time with her, and attempt to dig myself out of my deep dark rut.

  I raked my hand across my five o’clock shadow, my eyes locking into hers. “Yeah, I could do that.”

  The next night after Thanksgiving dinner, Daisy kissed me. Closed mouth and on the cheek. But she kissed me.

  “Come with me,” I said to her as she dropped me back off at my bus.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What’s a sweet little thing like you doing working at a bar anyhow?”

  “I’m not as sweet as I look, Beau. Trust me.”

  “What do you have keeping you here?”

  “My family.”

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to do something crazy before? Shake things up a bit?”

  She lifted a single shoulder, though the flicker in her baby blue eyes told me she was considering it.

  “You could stay here and work at the bar the rest of your life or you could hop on that bus with me and live a little.”

  She toyed with her bottom lip, staring over my shoulder and into the tinted glass windows of the Beau Mason wrapped bus behind us.

  “If you don’t like it – if you don’t like me or if I don’t like you – I’ll buy you a plane ticket and ship you home, and you can forget we ever met. How’s that sound?”

  She smiled before laughing, and while the notion of riding off into the sunset with that sweet little plaything in my bus seemed exciting at the time, the reality of it wore on me quickly. It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t fireworks and goose bumps.

  It was the promise of a distraction.

  My intention was for her to be a diversion, and to maybe find something in her I hadn’t been able to find in anyone since Dakota. Daisy was a refreshing change compared to most of the women I met on the road, and I wasn’t quite ready to
let her go so fast.

  “Fine. I could use a little change in my life about now,” she breathed. “But just for a little bit.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Morning,” I said as I met Beau in the kitchen just after sunrise the following day, forcing a smile on my face that proudly proclaimed I was over what had happened the night before.

  If the whole news anchor thing ever fell through, I could pursue acting.

  “Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Beau handed me a mug with some co-op brand printed on it and steam rising from the top, filling my lungs with hot, roasted goodness.

  “You seem to be in betters spirits,” Beau declared, watching me sip my coffee as I stared out the south-facing window. “I take it you slept well?”

  “I did. Haven’t slept in a twin bed in forever, but it was cozy.” I offered a smile. Three more days. I had to make it three more days. If I had to fake it until I made it, so be it. “When should we start?”

  Beau turned to face me, hooking one hand into his belt loop. “Miles and Gracie are coming out today. Should be here any minute.”

  “No school?”

  “Conferences.”

  “So you’re babysitting today?”

  “Just until noon,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Ivy’ll come pick them back up when she gets off work.”

  Three car doors slammed outside a moment later, and Beau stood to peer out the window.

  “Speak of the devil,” he said as he trudged toward the door and slipped his boots on. I waited, watching quietly from inside as two grinning little angels ran into his arms. They looked to be maybe five to seven years of age, and their gap-toothed smiles told me he was their favorite uncle in the whole entire world.

  Watching Beau with his niece and nephew held a sweet pain like I’d never tasted before. He would’ve been a good father, or at least he was in that alternate universe we lived in. Seeing Beau play with those kids was like watching a video of what might have been in real time.

  He hoisted Gracie up onto his shoulders as he chased Miles around, and Ivy headed inside with two book bags.

  “Hey, hey!” Ivy called out when she saw me. She set the bags down on the table. “Some toys and coloring books in there. Beau doesn’t have much out here besides a big yard and couple of empty barns.”

  I nodded, smiling and silently observing all the ways in which Ivy Mason was all grown up. I’d been too shell-shocked the day before to really take it all in. Her once-round face had slimmed down a bit, and the smattering of freckles that once bridged her nose had faded.

  “What do you do these days, Ivy?” I asked.

  “I’m a nurse’s aid at Shady Grove,” she said, referencing one of the retirement homes in town. She held two fingers in the air and crossed them tight. “Hoping they’ll promote me to shift leader once Janet retires next year.”

  “You like your new car?” I hated making small talk, but I couldn’t shake the way she was just standing there, staring at me all funny. “It looks really nice. Sometimes I really miss driving. Only get to do it when I travel.”

  Ivy’s eyes snapped toward the window, where the two of us kept a close watch on Beau and the kids as if it entertained us both for entirely different reasons.

  “Beau didn’t need to go buying me a car,” she huffed. “Thinks he needs to go taking care of everyone all the time, like he’s trying to make up for ten years of disappearing.”

  “Disappearing?”

  “Yeah,” Ivy shrugged. “Once he hit the road, he never came back but once or twice a year. He was a completely different person once fame hit him. It’s nice having him back.”

  Maybe he didn’t come home that Thanksgiving when I’d called and spoke to his mother? Maybe he really never got the message?

  “You know why he’s doing this, don’t you?” she said, her voice thick like honeycomb but not nearly as sweet.

  “Beg your pardon?” I lifted my gaze in her direction.

  “He lured you out here like some fish on a line because he’s still in love with you. He thinks there’s a chance.” Ivy shook her head. “I told him you moved on a long time ago. I mean, look at you. There’s not a shred of the old you left. You don’t even go by Dakota anymore. He’s fighting a lost cause, but he’s too stubborn to see that.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just stood there, marinating in the awkward silence and trying to determine whether she was just being honest with me or taking an extremely un-Ivy-like dig at me.

  She glanced down at her watch and sighed. “I better get to work. We still going out tonight?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I think we could all use a drink and a good time.” She flashed a quick smile like everything was suddenly cool before floating out the door on a breeze and kissing the foreheads of her little ones. A second later she was climbing back into her ride and rumbling down the gravel drive.

  “Dakota,” Beau called for me from outside. I slipped my shoes on and ran out to the front porch. “Get in the truck. We’re going fishing.”

  “Give me a sec.”

  Ten minutes later I re-emerged, freshened up and dressed for a morning spent down by the old fishing hole we used to frequent. Miles and Gracie squeezed in between us in the truck, with Gracie unable to stop staring at me. Beau grabbed Miles’ hand and placed it over the gear shifter, letting him think he was shifting the truck as we putted and bounced down an old dirt road behind the house.

  “Uncle Beau,” Gracie called out when she grew tired of staring my way.

  “Yes, Gracie Lou,” he twanged.

  “What did the big bucket say to the little bucket?” she asked, stifling a premature giggle.

  “I don’t know. What did he say?”

  “You look a little pail,” Gracie stuck her tongue out and scrunched her face as she laughed. A mess of blonde curls framed her freckled face, making her the spitting image of her mama. Miles was a little bigger, making him appear to be the older one. He was more serious with dark eyes and dark hair. I could only imagine how hard it was for Ivy to look into the eyes of her beautiful boy and see the face of her late husband looking back at her. “Get it, Uncle Beau?”

  “That’s a good one, Gracie Lou. Give me a second, and I’ll think of one for you,” he said with a chuckle before pulling down a grassy stretch of dirty road. Up ahead was the old fishing hole with the ancient oak that held an old tire swing from its mighty branches. We used to swing off that tire and catapult ourselves into the water, though we stopped the day Beau came out covered in leeches all over his legs.

  Beau jerked the shifter into park just shy of the old tree and climbed out, reaching in as Miles and Gracie slid across the seat toward his waiting arms. He plunked them on the ground and grabbed some poles out of the back of his truck.

  Early morning fog rose up over the water like an ashy mist, and there was a faint chirping of birds mixed with the wind gusts that rustled the budding leaves on the tree. For miles and miles it was just us four, earth, wind, water, and sky.

  I climbed out from the truck, grabbing a couple old blankets and a tackle box from the back as if I’d never forgotten our old routine. Spreading the blankets out near the shoreline, I lowered myself into a seated position and watched Beau attach lures and secure bobbers to the kiddie poles. He showed them how to cast and draw the line in a few times before taking a step back. With a hand on his hip, he watched proudly before backing up to where I sat underneath the old oak.

  “Not fishing today?” I asked.

  “Nah,” he said. “This is for them. They’re not going to catch much here without live bait, but they seem to be having fun.”

  He crouched down, taking a seat beside me on a scratchy plaid blanket. The tepid May air brushed the hair from my eyes as I tugged up thick blades of grass that poked up around the blanket and scattered them into the wind.

  “This is what it’s all about, Dakota,” he said, pulling in a deep breath. He drew his long
legs up, wrapping his strong arms around his knees and keeping a close eye on the kids.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said, staring straight ahead at the picturesque view that surrounded us.

  “Family,” he said. “Family is everything.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You ready yet?” I rapped on her door, pressing my ear closer. She’d spent a solid hour getting ready to go out Monday night. As long as she was taking to clean up, I’d have figured she was making some kind of red carpet appearance.

  The door burst open a second later followed by a light gust of perfume and hairspray. A vision in black, her legs were hugged by leather leggings and a sparkly black top which hung low enough to give a man a heart attack but still left enough up to the imagination. Diamond studs flashed from beneath her long, dark hair. She bent down, placing a pair of heels on the floor and then stepping into them, instantly bringing her up to my level. Well, almost.

  “Ready,” she said.

  One look from head to toe and I’d lost my train of thought for a minute. “All right then. Ivy’s down at the Rusty Nail, waiting for us.”

  It took every last bit of strength, but I resisted placing my hand on the small of her back as I followed her down the stairs.

  “We’re taking the ‘Vette tonight,” I announced the second we stepped outside.

  “What is this, a date?” she asked.

  I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked her door, pulling it open. “Only if you want it to be.”

  Ten minutes later, we were walking into the Rusty Nail, or The Nail as the locals always called it.

  “Beau!” Waylon, the bartender, greeted me as he wiped up the bar. A few regulars sat hunched over the bar nursing their beers, turning long enough to see it who it was before turning back to their drinks. That was always the nice thing about Darlington. It was the only place in most of America that I could walk into a hometown bar and be left alone enough to enjoy a couple drinks. “Who’s this pretty little thing on your arm?”