She rolls her eyes and flops back on my bed. “Why are you so reluctant to believe that he might be interested, or that maybe you meant something to him? Honestly, Ginny, you don’t write a song about a girl if she means nothing to you.”
“And I’ve already told you a million times, the song isn’t about me.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out,” she says. “Who else could it be about?” She sits up again and catches my eye in the full-length mirror beside my closet. “It’s hardly the riddle of the century.”
“Even if he was thinking about us when he wrote it, they’re just words,” I say. “Songwriters need something for inspiration. Maybe there was a time long ago when he felt a certain way. He could be channeling that same emotion. For example, I was scared of thunderstorms too when I was a kid. I remember the fear I felt when the thunderclouds would roll in. It doesn’t mean I’m scared of them now, but I sure remember the scared feeling.”
“You should ask him straight out about it tonight,” she says. “Let’s settle this argument once and for all. Ask Luke if he wrote the song for you. Just do it. If not for yourself, do it for me because I’m dying to know. Then I’ll hush about it.”
I raise my eyebrows at her while fiddling with my earrings. “And how would that conversation go? Hey Luke, you know that debut song that made you famous? Is it about me? Because I think it might be.”
“But I want to knooooow!” she moans. “The suspense is killing me.”
“The answer is no, I’m not asking him, so hush about it now. It would be too humiliating. I wish you’d stop bringing it up.”
“You’re no fun.”
“What if he said it wasn’t about me? What if it’s about another girl he met after me? Then I would feel worse. I would rather not know for sure, then I can always dream. Sometimes it’s better to not know the truth.”
I twist and turn in front of the mirror to check out another sundress that I never get a chance to wear. It’s a white wraparound dress that comes to mid-thigh. I slip on a pair of heeled sandals and fluff up my long blonde hair. I turn back to Misty. “What do you think? How about this dress? Will it work? Are you sure it doesn’t show too much skin? I don’t want him to think I’m a floozy.”
She laughs. “What’s a floozy?”
“A wild woman,” I reply. “Something I’m definitely not.”
Her face softens. “The dress is incredible on you. That’s the one. It gets my vote. I’ll help you hang the rest of the clothes back up in the closet.”
I return my gaze to the mirror, smoothing down the soft material over my hips. I nod at my reflection. “I think so, too.”
Misty completes my outfit by skillfully applying a tiny bit of eye makeup and light pink lipstick. I brush my hair until it shines and is full of volume. “You clean up pretty good for a cowgirl,” she jokes.
“I’m no match for his model or actress girlfriends though,” I say, suddenly self-conscious and insecure. “I’ve seen photographs on social media of Luke with tons of different female stars.” My stomach tightens at the thought and a wave of doubt washes over me.
“If he wanted to be with one of those women, then he would be,” she says softly. “Now stop fretting about it and go have some fun. It will do you good for a change. Just talk about old times. Catch him up on local gossip. You have enough material to work with in this town. If nothing else comes out of it tonight, at least you’ll know you did something different and exciting.”
I nod back at her. “You’re right. Thanks for the pep talk.”
She climbs off the bed and grabs me in a quick hug, being careful not to mess up my hair or makeup.
“You’ll call me tomorrow with all the details?” she asks. “Because you know I’ll be sitting there with the phone in my hand anxiously waiting.”
“I will, I promise.”
She gives my hand a squeeze. “Have an amazing time, honey. You deserve it.”
I take a deep breath and step into the entrance of the Red Barn Grill. Our choice of venue reminds me of how much time has passed. The last time I was here, we were underage teenagers and not old enough to enter a restaurant that also contained the lone bar in the small town.
When I walk into the main room, I see that Luke is already there. He’s standing at the bar in dark denim jeans and a red-checked shirt with the top buttons undone. He’s wearing dark-tinted glasses to hide his startlingly green eyes. A trademark cowboy hat sits on his head.
When I walk across the room toward him, I notice a couple of women shooting glances his way and whispering. They’re wondering if it’s him but aren’t certain enough to approach in person.
Yet…
It won’t be long before he’s recognized. The only reason Luke’s not being swarmed already is that nobody would suspect he would show up at a local restaurant in tiny Sweet Rose Canyon. Even if it is his hometown.
Luke glances up and sees me. His lips curve into a wide grin and he hurries over, placing an arm gently on the small of my back. “You look wonderful, Ginny. Stunning as always.”
“Thanks.”
He takes me to a small wooden table for two in the far corner of the restaurant with a good view of the stage. On the table are two plastic covered menus. I sit opposite Luke and my heart speeds up when he smiles at me. I can’t believe I’m here with him after all this time. “This is nice,” I say. “I’ve never been inside this place before.”
“What?” he says with a raised eyebrow. “Why not? You’re legal now and could come in every day if you wanted to.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess it was always something we wanted to do together. There wasn’t any point in sneaking in here all by myself. It wouldn’t be the same. The whole point was seeing if we could get into an adult restaurant. You know what I mean?”
“I do. So let’s order something we would’ve ordered way back then. Here, take a peek at the drink menu and pick out something delicious and tasty.” He hands me a plastic menu and opens his. “Wow,” he says a minute later with a tinge of humor in his voice. “Quite a large selection to choose from.” He clears his throat and flips the menu over to see if there are more selections on the back that he might’ve missed.
There aren’t.
“Okay,” he says. “It appears our only choice is beer, beer, and more beer. Not a single milkshake listed on the menu. But don’t worry, there are lots of options here.” He runs his finger down the menu. “I appreciate how the choices are categorized by size instead of brand. That’s a little different. There’s a glass, a pitcher, a half-gallon, and a gallon. I’m surprised there’s not a barrel of beer listed for tables of four.”
“You mean that’s not how they serve beer in the fancy places you frequent now?” I joke. I place the menu down on the table. “There’s something I should mention.”
“What’s that?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow at my serious tone.
“I don’t drink alcohol,” I tell him. “Not at all. Never have.”
“Whew,” he says, wiping a hand across his brow. “That’s a huge relief. Me either.” He picks up the food menu. “I always figured that if I need to get high, I’ll just spin around in circles until I’m dizzy. Maybe we should go straight for a big platter of spicy hot wings and a pitcher of ice water to wash them down?” He grins at me and I can’t help giggling like the teenager I once was.
“You always were a sucker of chicken wings,” I tease. “I see your taste hasn’t changed.”
“I’m sorry, Ginny,” he says, his tone turning serious. “I didn’t realize this place hadn’t updated at all. I’m sure I could’ve chosen a fancier place to take you. Or is this the only fancy restaurant in town?”
“Don’t be silly! You don’t need to impress me with fancy restaurants. I’m still the same girl who used to help you bale hay in the summer. I’m glad you asked me to meet you tonight. It’s been forever.”
“Too long,” he agrees. “I can’t count the number of people I’ve
lost touch with since I went off to Nashville. I regret losing touch with them, but I’ve thought about you the most.”
He’s gazing at me intently. Those green eyes are fixed on mine and I find it impossible to drag my eyes away. It leaves me momentarily breathless and my mouth grows dry. I run my tongue over my lips and am relieved when a waiter comes to take our order. He’s a young man in his early twenties. He glances at Luke and clearly doesn’t recognize him. Probably not a country music fan and thinks Luke is just another local in for a hamburger.
“We’ll have a big order of hot wings to start,” Luke says, throwing me a wink. “With a big stack of napkins and a whole pitcher of water.”
“Yes sir,” the waiter says, giving him a bored glance. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
“I’ll be right back with your water,” the waiter says before gathering up our menus and leaving us alone.
“Did that feel a little anti-climactic to you, or is it just me?” Luke jokes. “All that time we spent trying to sneak in here when we were younger. All we needed to do was grow older. That was a pathetic and sad waste of our time.”
“I’m sure we spent a lot of time on things that weren’t important way back then,” I say.
“Funny, I don’t remember it that way,” he says, growing serious. “Every minute seemed important at the time. Those were good days.”
“They sure were. The best. How does it feel being back in Sweet Rose Canyon after being gone for so long?”
“Weird. It’s so small and old-fashioned. Everyone knows each other here. It’s taking me a little bit of getting used to it again. Sweet Rose Canyon is completely different from Nashville.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “Would you believe I’ve never been to Nashville? I kept thinking it would be fun to spend a weekend there, but I never had the chance. What is Nashville like?”
Luke’s eyes light up and he leans forward on the table with his elbows. A smile plays on his face as he talks about Music City. “Nashville is something else. Broad Street is my favorite place to be. There are lights everywhere. When it gets dark, the streets are lit up with blinking neon. It makes you feel as if you’re living in a music video. When it rains, all those pretty lights reflect against the water. It’s easy to get dazzled by them and by the dream of making it big.”
“It sounds nice,” I say.
“When you walk down the street, all you can hear is music coming out of the open doorways. Every joint has an artist, every night there’s a concert. There are tons of tourists. Never the same crowd twice. Things happen there. Don’t get me started on the food scene.” He shuts his eyes and takes in a deep breath like he can taste the flavors. “Every type of food under the sun: Southern, barbeque, street food. You can try something different on every block. Each day you wake up feeling like you’re in a new city. It’s always evolving.”
Not like Sweet Rose Canyon.
“You must love it there,” I say.
“I do,” Luke says, “but I’m not there all that often. Since I’ve started touring, I live most of my life on a bus and in hotel rooms. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun, but I never feel at home with a place to call my own. I’m nothing more than a wandering nomad.”
“I thought Matthew said you’d just bought a mansion?”
Luke chuckles and leans back in his chair. “A crazy attempt of mine to feel as if I had a place I could call home. It’s too much, though. It’s under construction right now and I haven’t spent much time there. It needs something more for me to call it a real home. I don’t even have a dog, which ticks me off. I miss having someone or something to come home to.” Our waters arrive and Luke takes a deep swig of his. “At least it’s a good investment,” he continues. “Harry’s always telling me to invest in real estate.”
“Harry?”
“My manager. He’s the one who discovered me. I was playing at a dive on Broad Street. Barely big enough to fit twenty people inside. More of a backroom closet than a real place. He heard me at the open microphone night and gave me his card. I didn’t think much of it but followed it up anyway. Turns out Harry’s one of the best in country music. He was able to get me signed with a label within a month; the album recorded within a year.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I remember when I first heard you sing on the radio.”
“Did you recognize my voice?” he asks.
“Of course, I did,” I reply. “For some reason, it shocked me. When the song came on, I had to pull my car off the road to listen to it.”
“Why?”
“There were so many happy tears for you rolling down my cheeks that I couldn’t see to drive,” I tell him. “You’d made it to the big time. I was so happy for you.”
“Enough talk about me,” Luke says, changing the subject. “How was college?”
“Not that exciting,” I reply. “Each year seemed to get progressively harder. You might remember how much time I spent studying the first semester.”
“I do,” he says. “You always kept a textbook in your hands. Every spare minute you were studying or writing essays.”
We both grow quiet for a moment, remembering the last few months we tried to hang onto our relationship when I went off to college and then Luke left for Nashville.
“I always knew you were super smart,” he says. “How do you like being a pharmacist? Is it everything you thought it would be?”
“Call me lame, but I love it. I love all of it, from doing the math to running inventory. But, most of all, I love working with people. I see the same customers week in, week out.” I lean forward with a conspiring grin. “I’m the eyes and ears of this town. People tell me things. Secret things.”
Luke lets out a laugh. “Whoa, I’d better watch out then.”
“You can tell me your secrets,” I tease. “They’re safe with me. I’m the town confidant.”
He leans forward. Throughout the conversation, our bodies have grown closer and closer across the table. I can blame it on the fact that the band is playing loudly, and we can’t hear each other speak, but I think we both simply want to be more intimate.
“I told you a few of my secrets back in the day, as I recall. My crazy dream of wanting to be a country music star for one.”
“Yes, you did. Many, many times. That’s all you talked about the last few months we were together.”
The candlelight flickers across his features and I can’t keep my eyes from wandering over his strong jaw, and then back up to his gorgeous eyes. The background music is soft, and I’m lighter than air staring into Luke’s eyes.
“That last summer we had together was amazing,” he begins. “Do you remember when—”
“Excuse me. Aren’t you Luke Collins?”
We’re rudely interrupted by a pair of young women who can’t be more than twenty-one years old. They’re holding onto each other’s arms with giddy excitement, obviously having dared each other to approach Luke. My heart drops in disappointment.
He offers me an apologetic smile, then flashes a warm grin towards the two women. “I am,” he says.
“Oh my gosh, we love you! Can we please get your autograph?”
“Sure.” Luke pulls out a pen from his shirt pocket to sign the girls’ napkins. I wait patiently for him to exchange a few words with them and take a couple of photos before they leave.
“Sorry about that, Ginny.”
I hold up my hands and wave it off. “It’s okay. Part of the job.”
“Anyway, what I was saying…”
“Sorry to bother you, sir. I mean, Mr. Collins. Could we get a quick photo? My Mama absolutely adores you. She’d kill me if I didn’t get a photo. This will make her day.”
Another female has spotted us.
“Of course,” he replies.
An excited buzz is rapidly spreading through the restaurant. As soon as the customers realized there was someone signing autographs, they figured out immediately who it was.
Their ve
ry own small-town hero, Luke Collins.
All around me, I hear the scrape of wooden chair legs being pulled back against the hardwood floor as people stand to join the crowd swarming Luke. He tries to urge them to move along, but he’s too polite to firmly ask them to leave. I wait for ten minutes, then fifteen. People start moving in closer and jostling around me. Elbows and purses whack me in the back of the head as people press closer to the table trying to reach Luke.
A girl leans over my shoulder and her purse hits my glass, almost knocking it over and spilling water on my white dress. I grab it just in time. I’ve never been one to enjoy crowds, and this is a little too much for me. I lean closer and touch Luke’s arm to get his attention. “I’m going outside for a minute to get some air. I’ll be back in a little bit. Take your time.”
He nods and starts to say something when another fan sticks a napkin in front of him to sign. I walk away and exit the bar without a backwards glance. Tears well up in my eyes. I tell myself that I’m stupid for getting upset. I’m not mad at Luke, only disappointed that our evening was interrupted.
I know I shouldn’t be irritated because Luke is a celebrity now. Signing autographs comes with the territory. And after all, this isn’t a real date. We were only catching up on Sweet Rose Canyon gossip.
The truth is I felt invisible once the fans spotted Luke.
When he walks into a room now, the whole world comes to a standstill. When I leave the room, nobody notices I’m gone.
No matter what we were to each other at one time, it’s obvious we’re worlds apart now.
11
Luke
“Thank you everyone for your continued support,” I say to the crowd gathered around my table. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave. Please don’t forget to support your local artists too.” I gesture to the band who is trying to play up on the raised stage through the chaos.
Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance Page 9