by Sienna Parks
When the service is over, and everyone begins to make their way back to the ranch, I scan the crowd to see if I can find the mysteriously stunning stranger, but she’s gone without a trace.
Maybe I imagined her…
Present Day
JAX
“Uncle Jax! Can you stay and play? You do the best teddy voices!” I’ve been spending way too much time here lately. I need a drink… in a bar… with real people to talk to instead of stuffed animals and a three-year-old.
“I’d love to stay, but I have somewhere I need to be right now.” I hate saying no to her. Maddox’s daughter, Sally Rae, is the bright spot in my life. The moment she was born, I fell in love with her. She’s become like family to me, and since her momma walked out on her and Maddox, I’ve done everything I can to help raise her.
“Funner than painting my nails? Nothing is funner than that.” She folds her arms over her chest and furrows her little brow.
“Tomorrow night. I promise. Pinky swear.” She grabs my pinky finger with her tiny fist and finger.
“Swear it.”
As I grab my keys, Maddox appears beside me.
“Who are you doing tonight?” He loves giving me shit about my ‘relationship’ choices.
“Very funny. I don’t have a date.”
“Have you dispelled with the formalities of buying a girl dinner before you fuck her?”
“Fuck off, Mad.” He elbows me with a playful smirk.
“I’m just messing with you. Some would call it living vicariously through you!”
“Yeah, Maddox Hale, the champion bronc rider needs to get his kicks secondhand. You have a stunning girlfriend and a gorgeous daughter, woe is you! I’ll see you tomorrow.” As I say my goodbyes and jump in the truck, my mood shifts on a dime.
Lately, I look around, and it’s becoming clear to me that life is passing me by. I never intended to be working the ranch at this point. I was supposed to leave this town over a decade ago—that was my plan. Then Bobby asked me to help on the ranch, and the rest is history. When he died, he left me twenty-five percent of Mustang, so now I’m part owner with Maddox. It’s more than I ever could’ve dreamed of, and I guess that’s where I’m struggling right now. I seem to stumble from one situation to the next with everything happening to me instead of making a deliberate decision for myself.
I know Mad was just fucking with me back there, but for some reason, it’s gnawing at me as I drive through Kingsbury Falls. Even he thinks I’m just a fuck-them-and-chuck-them manwhore with no direction or purpose in life. Maybe I gave up the right to be offended by that a long time ago, so I may as well embrace it. I pull up outside Cardinals bar. A few shots of bourbon sound good right about now—major life reflection can wait a few hours.
Throwing my keys over the bar, my friend and owner of this joint, Kirby, grabs a bottle of Jack from the shelf and pours me a glass. He and I went to school together, and he’s seen the best and the worst of me. He is my voice of reason and sounding board.
“What’s going on, man? You look pissed.”
“I just need a drink. Or a few. Things have been… intense over at the ranch lately. Drink now, talk later.”
“Sure thing. I’ve got your keys. I’ll leave this here.” He slides my dear friend, Jack, over the bar before leaving me to stew in my own juices for a while. That’s the great thing about him. He doesn’t force me to talk or judge me for my choices. When I need space, I hand over the keys to my truck and let loose.
An hour and a handful of drinks later, the bar is almost empty. Tuesday night isn’t exactly busy. There’s a routine to this town. It’s both comforting and infuriating. That’s why you get sucked into the vortex of small-town living. On a good day, strolling through the square and knowing every face that walks by feels like the most natural thing in the world. On a bad day, I hate that everyone knows my business. Wherever I go, whatever I do, there isn’t a person who doesn’t know about it. Imagine all your high school mistakes being replayed on a loop year after year—the stories getting more and more distorted as they are retold.
All I want is a clean slate. Is that too much to ask?
I chat with a few regulars to pass the time, but no one holds my attention until I see a woman in the darkest corner of the bar. I don’t recognize her and yet there’s something familiar about her. It’s a rare occurrence in this town not to know everyone here and their shoe size. She’s been watching me for the last hour, but I enjoy the anticipation. The thrill of the chase is what makes it worthwhile. I like a woman who comes to me and shows a confidence that almost always translates to the bedroom.
There’s something different in this girl’s eyes, though. The moment I hold her gaze, she shies away, but within seconds, I can feel her stare. In my experience, a girl who is truly shy won’t even attempt to look your way again so quickly, and a girl who’s just acting shy tends to be less obvious in her ogling.
When I’m certain she’s not going to make the first move, I signal Kirby to send her another drink. Usually, that will get a woman to introduce herself to me. If that fails and I still want to pursue her, then I go in for the kill. It’s probably big-headed to even think it, but there are few women who can resist a cowboy’s good, old-fashioned Southern charm.
She gestures a tight nod of thanks before becoming unusually focused on the bracelet around her wrist. Trepidation emanates from her in waves. This girl is throwing off so many mixed signals, I can’t tell which way is up, but that only serves to make her more appealing. I wait another twenty minutes until she finishes her drink before going over there.
The moment she sees me walking her way, her eyes become wide as saucers. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights as she steps out of the comfort of the dark and into the dim light of the bar. It’s then that I realize why she’s so familiar to me.
It’s the girl from the funeral—three months ago. The one that got away.
I give my best panty-wrangling smile, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. She stands from the table and heads for the exit. I quicken my step, an uneasy weight settling in my chest as she slips out the door before I reach her, but I can’t go after her—only a stalker would follow a woman out of a bar. I look toward the bar to see Kirby mouthing the word burn at me.
In desperation, I decide to keep walking in case she waited, but when I step out into the humid night air, there’s no trace of her. She’s vanished into the night like a figment of my imagination. How is that even possible?
I sit watching the vanilla sky from the back porch of the ranch, a cool beer in my hand, and my best friend by my side.
“You’ve been quiet today. You okay?” Mad knows me well enough to read between the silences.
“Girl trouble.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’ve known you since you were born, and I’ve never heard you utter those words before.”
“Lap it up, rodeo boy.”
“Nice deflection.”
“You don’t know her. Heck, I don’t know her.”
“You’re pining over a one-night stand?”
“No! I never slept with her. When I tried to talk to her, she fled faster than a scolded cat. I don’t need to tell you that was a first for me.” He throws his head back laughing hysterically at my misfortune.
“Boo-fucking-hoo! One girl in thirty-three years was impervious to your charm.”
“And tell me, rampant rider, how many girls have turned you down?” He smiles—smug bastard.
“Touché!” He takes a long swig of beer chuckling to himself.
“You missed the point. There was something about her.”
“The fact that she was unattainable? Don’t sweat it. Next week another woman will catch your eye, and this will be long forgotten.”
“I can’t forget about it… that’s the thing! I’m telling you, we had a moment. It’s not just a bullshit reaction because she walked out. I can tell when a woman’s vibing on me, and it was a mutual thing. I haven’t fel
t that kind of instant connection in a long time.”
“Is she local? Surely, you know every woman in this town by now?”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy… but I saw her at your dad’s funeral.” He spits his beer all over me.
“What the fuck?”
“Okay! Bear with me. I saw her at the service three months ago, then I saw her last night in Cardinals. The minute I moved in her direction, she hightailed it out of there. No one else spoke to her, and I’d never seen her around here before.”
“Maybe she’s here for business?”
“Then why would she go to your dad’s funeral? And why would she avoid talking to me after staring at me for an hour straight?”
“Why do you even care?”
“She was smokin’ hot, but that isn’t what got me. Her whole demeanor was a walking contradiction. Shy but aggressive, sweet but sexy as fuck. It worked for her. She looked a little younger than us, maybe twenty-five.”
“Being kind to us there, bro! A little younger? That’s almost cradle robbing at our age!”
“Speak for yourself, old man river.”
“Did you find out anything that could help you figure out who she is or where she’s staying?”
“No, and I can’t stalk her… calling the B&Bs in town borders on creepy.”
“You’re losing your touch and your marbles.”
“Fuck you, Mad.” We watch the sun go down and move on to lighter topics before I decide to make tracks.
Lazily driving through the streets I know so well, the odd person staggers home from Cardinals, but for the most part, it’s like a ghost town. I think I could navigate my way from the ranch to my apartment with my eyes closed. Nothing surprises me anymore except the woman standing in the middle of the road!
I slam on the brakes.
What the fuck is she doing? As she comes into view, I recognize her face—it’s my mystery girl. She stumbles to the sidewalk clutching her hands over her heart. I must have scared her half to death. My pulse is ringing in my ears. I throw open the door of the truck anxious to check she’s okay, but she’s already running toward the field.
“I’m so sorry, sir. It was completely my fault.” I lose sight of her as she disappears into the night.
“Wait!” I don’t know what to do. She’s not from around here. If she goes into shock, she could hurt herself. I sprint into the field calling out to her. I still don’t know her name. “Miss! Wait! I’m not going to hurt you!” I grab my phone from my pocket and set it to the flashlight. I can’t see anything in here. I stop running trying to listen for movement, but it’s an impossible task with the whooshing sound in my ears. I take a deep breath to slow my heartbeat and concentrate on isolating the familiar noises of nightfall.
I hear the trampling of hay to my left and start running. If I can chase down a mustang, I can do this. The air is warm in my lungs, my skin slick with sweat. I run flat out to the other side of the field coming to a grinding halt at the edge of town. There is no way she could outrun me, so she must still be in the field somewhere. I head back in and start methodically trying to cover as much ground as I can. An hour later, there’s no sign of her, and no audible evidence that she’s here.
I’m beginning to believe I imagined this whole night, this girl, and everything she represents. I take my time walking back to the truck. My arms are scratched to shit with blood dripping from them, but it’s too late to care. My mind is consumed with worry for the unknown woman who has me bewildered. She’s here for a reason, this is the third time I’ve seen her, and no one else seems to know anything about her either.
What does she want from me? Or not want from me?
By the time I get home, I fall into bed exhausted from the surprising twist my quiet evening has taken. With only a few hours until I need to be back at the ranch, my sleep is fitful at best chasing after the woman of my dreams… but she’s always just out of reach.
“You’re not serious? You’ve known me your whole life, Bert!” I’ve called every B&B, and by process of elimination, my stunning stranger must be staying at Bert’s Busy Bee Inn.
“Sir, I’m not at liberty to divulge details of my guests.” I’m about to throw this phone through the window.
“Cut the crap. You’ve had two guests in twelve years. You went to school with my dad. I’ve called everyone else. I just want to know this girl is okay. I told you what happened.”
“There may or may not be a young woman matching her description staying here. And she may or may not have gone to the pharmacy. Don’t you go chasing my guest away, you hear me?”
“Trust me. I want this girl to stick around even more than you do. Thanks, Bert.” I end the call grabbing my keys on the way out the door. I make it to the pharmacy in record time abandoning my car in the parking lot. Scanning the store, I see the telltale sign of someone who doesn’t know where to find every single product in this place and make my way over to where she’s investigating the shelves.
“Can I help you find something?” She turns at the sound of my voice.
“N… No. I’m just fine, thank you.”
“Are you sure? You were almost roadkill last night. I was worried about you.” She busies herself pretending to read the label of whatever she has in her hands which are cut to shreds. “Shit! You need to see the doctor. I can take you, she’s a friend of mine.”
“I’m fine. Nothing some antiseptic and a few bandages won’t fix. Thank you for your concern, sir. I need to get going.” Wow, this girl doesn’t want to talk to me.
“Have I done something to upset you?”
“You mean other than almost killing me last night?” Before I can protest, a devious smile appears. “I’m just messing with you.”
“I’m Jackson.”
“I know.”
“Oh, you do, do you? And do I get the courtesy of your name?”
“Nope.” She takes what she needs and heads to the checkout. I follow close on her heels. Why is she so adamant about remaining a mystery? Or maybe that’s the point—mystery always makes a guy more intent on the conquest.
“Okay, different question. Why were you in the middle of the road last night?” She hands the cashier a twenty-dollar bill and doesn’t stay long enough to get the change. “What are you afraid of?” She stops dead turning to scowl in my direction.
“Really? That’s the best you’ve got? I’m not… scared… of you.” The stammer in her voice betrays her confidence.
“Okay, darlin’, have it your way. Do you have a pen I can borrow?” She reluctantly searches her purse and hands me a pen. I grab it taking her hand in mine before writing my number on her palm. “I’ll be seeing you around.” I hop in my truck. This isn’t what I wanted from our first verbal interaction, but it’s a start.
I’ve spent so many nights awake over the past three months wondering who that girl was and why she was at the funeral. There has to be more to her story. Today only compounds my confusion. If she wanted to leave a lasting impression on me, she succeeded. I find myself unable to concentrate on anything other than the contours of her face and the way her body twitches at the sound of my voice.
I have no idea why this girl is so against just telling me her name. What harm could it do? Then it dawns on me—she’s been here for a few days now—I’m sure she’s already been told to keep her distance from the town whore.
SAVANNAH
What was I thinking? I should never have come back here. Jackson McKinney seems to have a sixth sense when I’m within a hundred yards of him. It’s the strangest thing. My friends tried to tell me, but I just wouldn’t listen.
Chicago is nothing like Kingsbury Falls. I can’t imagine anywhere else in the world being like this. You hear about these small towns in America where everybody knows everybody but growing up in a big city, I didn’t believe they existed. The last time I was here, every resident turned up to say goodbye to Robert Hale. Surely, that’s the mark of a life well lived?
M
y mom and dad raised me in a bubble of high society and isolation. My dad enjoyed socializing, but Mom saw other people as something to be tolerated rather than appreciated. For me, school was my haven of humanity. I had a small crowd of friends who were like family to me. As time went on, my mom was forced to loosen the reins, but I don’t think she ever understood why I wanted to be around people.
Before my mom died, I knew very little about her life. She wasn’t the most talkative person, but I always felt there was more to my mom and dad’s story. Even after she passed, my dad was reluctant to fill in the gaps, but when he remarried last year, I was asked to go through my mother’s things to make room for stepmother dearest. So, I set out on a journey of self-discovery.
Most of what I found was vapid crap that got tossed in the dumpster, but there were a few paper clippings and official documents that helped me figure out where to start. I found details of my mother’s birth. I didn’t even know her maiden name. She’s changed her last name more than once, so it’s been a lengthy process to find a thread to pull. I’d been on the road for six weeks, attempting to trace my parents’ movements in the years before I was born when I stumbled across some information that led me to Kingsbury Falls. I learned everything there was to know about the town and its residents. Jackson McKinney was on the list of people I researched, but I didn’t anticipate he was going to have this effect on me. I didn’t come here for him.
I waited in the bar hoping Jackson would turn up intent on gouging him for information. I wanted something from him, and I was going to take it no matter what. But, somewhere in that first evening, I forgot the reason I came here. I let myself get sucked into the stunning blue depths of his eyes. If I’d stuck around to meet him, I’m pretty sure I would have fucked him right there in a bathroom stall and loved every second of it. Something about him made me feel a raw, animalistic desire that I’ve never experienced before. It took me by surprise—a reaction so fierce I didn’t even trust myself to speak to him. How can a stranger evoke that level of sexuality in someone? It was wrong and disturbing, and I knew I had to leave.