Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  Somewhere along the line, I’d thrown my bitterness out the window with reckless abandon. I’d grown tired of putting up a fight. I’d grown tired of festering hatred and resentment toward the only man I truly ever loved.

  It wasn’t the alcohol at the bar, though that may have provided a little bit of lubricant for a complicated situation. But it wasn’t an act.

  Matter of fact, I didn’t know what it was. It just felt like something I needed to do.

  With my fingers locking around the back of his neck, I held onto him like my life depended on it as he carried me upstairs to his room.

  Laying me down across the center of a sweeping, quilt-covered country bed fit for a king, he climbed over me. His hands finished unbuckling his pants as he pushed them down just enough to free himself in all his aroused glory. My hand found him, the warmth of his erect cock pressing against the smoothness of my palm and sending a burst of warmth to my core as I anticipated his next move.

  He reached across the bed and pulled a condom from his nightstand drawer, sheathing himself before gripping the undersides of my knees and spreading my thighs. Sex with him back in the day was a bumbling mess of experimentation and exploration. This was a man who knew what he was doing; a sexually mature man with the power to liquefy my desire in two seconds flat.

  “I’ve waited years for this,” he whispered while I ran my fingers through his dark hair. He gripped his cock and placed it at my apex, pressing inside me one tantalizing inch at a time. Beau lowered his mouth to my breasts, tugging down the fabric of my bra and capturing one nipple between his teeth before sucking and letting it go. My hips bucked against his, wordlessly urging him to keep going, though it seemed he had other plans.

  As my fingers explored the satin-smooth brawn of his shoulders and trailed down the pulsing muscles of his corded steel arms, his mouth sampled every square inch of my body that lay within tasting distance. His triceps tightened with each thrust, and soft sighs escaped my lips in response.

  “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, the speed of his movements picking up in intensity. Beau’s mouth was in limbo above mine, lowering himself and dipping his tongue between the crease of my lips. “I could do this all night long.”

  He gripped my hips, using them as leverage as he pressed himself deeper inside me, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. The feeling was mutual; at least for the time being. I spread my legs and accepted as much of him as I could take. Every muscle in my body melted, heeding to the intensity of his raw power.

  We’d come a long ways from sneaking off at night and screwing like rabbits in the back of his truck. The soft mattress beneath my hips was a welcome change.

  He gripped the back of my neck before gathering my hair into a ponytail in his wide hand and lifting my mouth to his once more. My core throbbed and tingled before tightening around his shaft, and his breathing intensified. A wave of pure intensity washed over me, and my thighs widened to accept his final thrusts before we both collapsed into a melded, sticky mess.

  He peeled himself off me and climbed to the spot beside me on the bed, tugging a pillow under his neck as he stared at me. Blush rose in my cheeks. Intimacy had a tendency to make me feel painfully vulnerable, and Beau had crushed that barricade with the verve of a man who’d stop at nothing to take back what was rightfully his.

  And I was his.

  I could choose to fight it, or I could choose to find a way to live peacefully beside it, hoping someday it might fade into the background enough for me to move on.

  He’d owned me all those years whether I chose to accept it or not. I’d given myself to him since the day I fell in love with him, though at the time I never knew it’d be the kind of love that would take a lifetime to get over.

  He kissed me again, and I didn’t have a chance. My corded steel resolve, my diamond-hard determination, all of it was blown to bits the second we collided.

  Beau tugged on a blanket, covering our bodies as the sweat of our skin turned into a cool fog around us. Climbing into his embrace, I found a soft spot on his shoulder and buried my face.

  Once upon a time, before I knew any better, Beau Mason was my favorite feeling in the whole world. It took giving myself to him in order for me to discover he still was.

  I felt his eyes on me as I listened to the steady drum of his heart beating in his chest, and I thought about that girl who had the good fortune of falling in love with the most popular boy in school and the bad fortune of losing him at the worst possible time.

  My heart ached for her and everything she had to go through without him by her side. That poor, young woman who’d grown up to become so strong and resilient she forgot how to feel.

  It felt good to finally feel something again even if it was equal parts confusing and wonderful all at the same time.

  Chapter Eighteen

  10 years ago

  I stepped down from the tour bus, my boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as I stretched my arms behind my head. Ten long hours on the road was all it took to get me from my last tour stop to my hometown.

  Somewhere along the line,everything had changed.

  In the six months leading up to that point, I’d turned twenty-one, churned out one platinum album and three platinum singles, toured in thirty-two cities across the country, and drunkenly slept my way into the hearts of more nameless, faceless girls than I could remember.

  “You’re young and dumb,” my tour manager, Mickey, said as he hoisted my arm over his shoulder and hoisted me into the tour bus the night of my twenty-first birthday. “It’s better that you get it all out of your system now. You’ve got the rest of your life to make up for being a giant asshole.”

  Somewhere along the line I’d lost myself, and somewhere along the line I’d lost the only thing that ever meant anything to me.

  My Dakota.

  “Hey, Beau.” My older sister, Calista, stood resting against her vintage Jeep Wagoneer. Her face pinched as she scrutinized me the way she tended to scrutinize everyone, but that’s what older sisters were for. Had Ivy been the one to pick me up, she’d have come running, jumping, and squealing into my arms. I loved them both the same.

  “Calista,” I said, squinting into the sun. I opened the luggage compartment on the bus and pulled out some bags. I was only in town for a few days, but my daddy said mama was worrying a hole into the floorboards at home and it was time for me to check in and assure her I was still alive and well. “Where’s Ivy?”

  “Probably at softball camp with Addison,” Calista said as we loaded up and drove off. The mere mention of Addison reminded me of Dakota, not that I needed the reminder. She lived in my thoughts, safely tucked away there, where I couldn’t harm her or hurt her. My jaw wriggled back and forth as I thought about Dakota and what she’d think if she saw me then. “She’ll be home for supper.”

  “Is she bringing Addison?” I asked, shielding my curiosity about Dakota with an innocent, unsuspecting question.

  “No,” Calista huffed. “You know how mama is about bringing people over for dinner last minute.”

  “Beau!” Ivy said that night as she rushed into the house. Her wild hair was pulled back into a bouquet of curls and her face glistened with sweat. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I hoisted her up, swinging her around as if she were much younger than eighteen because, in my mind, she was still that gap-toothed, freckle-faced, curly-haired kid sister that no amount of time could change.

  We finished supper as a family and sat around the living room as I gave my parents the PG-rated version of my life on the road. And when everyone had retired for the night, I went outside to spend a little time with Ruby and my thoughts.

  “Want some company?” Ivy’s voice said through the screen in the storm door. “Look like you could use it.”

  She stepped out and took the rocker next to mine after reaching down and rubbing Ruby’s thick gold fur until she rolled onto her back.

  “What are we thinking about tonight?” Ivy asked. Sh
e’d grown up too much, too fast. The last heart-to-heart conversation we’d had was about the Harry Potter series and how we felt about Dumbledore’s death.

  “Never thought I’d be away from home this much,” I said, clasping my hands across my stomach and using my right foot to rock me back and forth. “It’s like I didn’t come home to the same place.”

  “This place is exactly the way you left it, Beau,” Ivy said. “I reckon you’re the one who’s changed.”

  I huffed a smile, shooting a look her way. “Who let you grow up so fast?”

  “An old man with a long, white beard and a crooked staff named Father Time.” Ivy stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth and rolled her eyes as she snorted.

  “How’s Addison?” I asked.

  “Don’t you mean, how’s Dakota?” she fired back without pause.

  “Busted,” I laughed it off.

  “Don’t play games with me, Beaumont.” She stood up and yawned. “I better get inside. I’m nannying for the Janssens tomorrow since it’s spring break. Those little twin tornadoes wear me out something fierce.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” I wasn’t letting her get away that easily. “How’s Dakota?”

  “Why don’t you call and ask her?” Ivy said with a shrug. “I honestly don’t know. Addison says she hasn’t come home at all since Thanksgiving. I guess she’s working a lot and taking lots of classes. That’s about all I know.”

  “Is she coming home for spring break?” I asked.

  “No clue, Beau. Call her.”

  I pulled my phone out the second Ivy went inside. It was a new phone with a new number. My old one was dead and long gone, along with all my contacts. But I’d never forgotten her number. With the keypad on my screen, I pressed it in one slow number at a time.

  My thumb hovered above the call button for five indecisive seconds before I swiped the screen away and shoved the phone back in my pocket. It was late, and I needed to gather my thoughts anyway.

  The next morning I borrowed Old Blue from Ivy and dropped her off at the Janssen farm before heading into town. A quick pass through Sunrise Terrace trailer court told me Dakota wasn’t at home, or at least her car wasn’t there. So I headed toward the gas station to get a cup of coffee.

  “Beau Mason!” the woman working the cash register declared as I handed her a five-dollar bill. “Look at you. I watched you on T.V. not too long ago. You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “What are you doing back here in Darlington?”

  “Just visiting family, ma’am.”

  She gave me my change, and I slipped the coins into the give-a-penny-take-a-penny tray and slipped the cash into a donation box for a local animal shelter before giving her a nod and slipping out the door.

  “Beau,” a man’s voice called out. He certainly didn’t sound like a raging fan.

  I stopped in my tracks, turning to my left to see a man a few years my senior with white blonde hair and deep brown eyes.

  “Hey,” I called back, squinting as his face registered as familiar in my mind. And then it dawned on me. He was Sam Valentine – the guy who went with Dakota’s cousin, Rebecca. “Sam, right?”

  He nodded, placing his hands on his sides. “So, what brings you back to town?”

  What was with everyone asking why I was back? It was my home. I didn’t need a valid reason other than the fact that a guy got homesick for his kin after living on the road for several months at a time.

  “Just seeing family,” I said. “What about you? You still in med school?”

  “I am.” He fidgeted like there was something more he wanted to say. “Look, Beau, I don’t want to sound like an asshole here, but stay away from Dakota.”

  “I beg your pardon?” A rumble of discontent stirred deep in my chest. While Sam had a lot of nerve saying something like that to me, I also knew he wasn’t in the wrong.

  “You’ve done a number on that poor girl.” I picked up a hint of a shake in his voice, as if he were slightly afraid of me. Sam was book smart - a scrawny, nice guy. He had soft hands. The guy didn’t have an ounce of fight in him, and yet he loved my Dakota enough to tell me to stay the hell away from her. “Rebecca’s been taking care of her like it’s her full-time job.”

  “Taking care of her?” I’d never known Dakota to not be able to care for herself.

  “Yeah, after that situation you left her in,” Sam said with a huff.

  I knew exactly what I’d done: I’d smashed her heart into a million pieces. She probably cried herself to sleep every night thinking I didn’t love her, when in reality all I was doing was saving her from the monster I’d become.

  “I don’t know if she’s coming home for spring break this week,” Sam said, “But do not go seeking her out, Beau. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

  My lips pursed into a straight line as I raked my hand through my hair. Sam had a point. I had no business bothering the poor girl, and anything I said or did might make her even more upset with me.

  He stepped toward me, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it as he offered a nod and pushed on by. “Good talk.”

  I huffed and shook my head. He had a lot of nerve.

  But then again, so did I for thinking I had any business getting that poor girl all stirred up at a time when my promises meant jack squat to her.

  And what were my intentions anyway? I wanted to hear her sweet drawl, see her pretty smile, but I also wanted to bend her over behind the gate of my truck, taste her sweet mouth, and devour every other square inch of her body.

  And then what? Send her back to school with an even bigger hole in her heart and hit the road like it never happened? I couldn’t do that to her. Not again.

  Climbing back into my truck, I sped back home to help my dad with some chores.

  I’d have to come back for her another time, when I was the kind of man she deserved to be with.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I woke up Tuesday morning alone in his bed. The distinct smell of peppered bacon and fried eggs wafted upstairs and a satisfying soreness between my thighs instantly sent a guilty smile to my face. Stretching my arms overhead and dipping my bare toes onto the cool wood floor, I pulled myself up and helped myself to Beau’s dresser, pulling out an old Darlington High t-shirt that hit mid-thigh and sauntering downstairs.

  Standing back a ways, I watched him cook us breakfast in nothing but a pair of blue jeans. I snuck up behind him, slipping my hands around his chest and pressing my cheek into the flexed muscles of his back. His free hand covered mine.

  “Morning,” his deep voice rumbled through his body and vibrated against my hands. “How’d you sleep?”

  Like a million bucks.

  “Well. Thank you.” I peeled myself off him and took a seat at the table as he plated food and poured orange juice into two glasses with yellow and orange flowers on them. He took a seat across from me. The way he held his fork made it look tiny in the claw of his grip, and he chowed down like a man who’d worked up an appetite in the naughtiest of ways. “Why are you retiring, Beau?”

  I didn’t need my recorder. I didn’t need a pen and paper or a list of questions. There was no way I was going to forget a single detail about that week.

  He sat up, swallowing his bite and setting his fork aside. “Because the life I was living didn’t suit the man I wanted to be.”

  “You had the entire world at your fingertips,” I said, my tone borderline careful. “You still weren’t happy?”

  He shook his head, his jaw clenching and releasing as purpose claimed his eyes. “All I need to be happy is a warm house, a couple hundred acres, and you.”

  “Beau,” I said, angling my head. “You’re giving it all up for me?”

  “It would appear that way. Yes.”

  “But what if we’re not meant to be? It’s quite a gamble, don’t you think? I mean, last night was fun and all, but come tomorrow morning, I’m on a plane back to th
e city. And then what happens?”

  “That’s on you,” Beau said, leaning back in his chair. “You know you’ll always have a home here. With me. On the ranch.”

  His lips inched into a slow half-smile, his eyes twinkling as if he were recalling all the things we’d done the night before.

  “We have one more night, Dakota,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m making it my mission to ensure you won’t want to leave here come tomorrow morning.”

  My heart warmed and skipped a beat. That man was relentless. Beau Mason was like one of those Chinese finger traps, where the harder I pulled the more I just got stuck.

  His hands slowly sailed behind his head as he gifted me a cocky wink. “You’re going to love the shit out of me all over again by the time you have to go home.”

  I never stopped.

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself there, Mr. Mason,” I teased. “I believe your breakfast is getting cold.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Dakota’s laugh and cheery disposition that morning was nothing short of a tribute to what once was and what could possibly be if only. Watching her sitting across my table in nothing but a ratty old t-shirt of mine, all fresh-faced and good-humored was almost as if God was telling me all would be right in the world if I kept on trying.

  Too many times before I’d convinced myself I didn’t deserve her. I let her go. I walked away. I set her free. Times had changed, though, and I was ready to be the man she deserved – the man who’d never break her heart again so long as he lived.

  “So what are you going to do after your final show in a couple weeks?” Dakota asked, lifting her fork to her mouth.

  “Celebrate,” I said without pause. She swallowed her final bite and carried her plate to the sink, rinsing it off and carefully patting it dry. If I squinted my eyes hard enough, I could almost picture her barefoot and pregnant. I rose up and followed her, pinning her against the counter. My lips found her soft neck, depositing a single kiss against her flesh. “Up for a cruise around the countryside?”