6. Nash
Chapter 6
Nash
I wasn’t entirely sure what had brought me here. Skyline Acres Ranch wasn’t on my way anywhere, and I didn’t have a plan when I turned off the main road onto its dirt driveway. All I knew was that something about Dawn—her stress, her fierce protectiveness over this place—had lodged itself in my head, and I couldn’t shake it.
The truck rumbled to a stop, and I killed the engine, staring out at the ranch. It looked like it had been plucked straight out of a postcard. Rolling fields stretched out on either side, hemmed in by worn fences, and the barn stood proud to my right, though its red paint had faded to something closer to rust.
What was I even doing here?
After hearing Dawn and Willow the other night, my thoughts spiraled, and I couldn’t find sleep. I went online and searched for hours before finding Skyline Acres. Her mother, famous barrel racer Diane Taylor, had briefly mentioned it in an interview in the nineties, telling the interviewer that she and her husband had big plans for their ranch. Not long after, I found new articles reporting their passing. I wondered if the struggles Dawn was experiencing were related to their deaths or something along those lines.
I ran a hand over my face, debating whether to turn back, but instead, I pushed the door of my truck open and climbed out. My boots hit the gravel with a crunch.
I took in my surroundings, hearing distant chatter and the distinctive noise of horses galloping. The huge main house—a two-story, red-clad building mirroring the barn’s color—stood before me. Annexed to it was an extended corridor-like add-on, with a name dangling in front of a patio door: Skyline Acres Independent Living Center.
Sitting on the front porch, a young black man, no older than thirty, eyed me. He sat on a small wooden rocking chair, grabbing the seat and swaying back and forth, smiling at no one in particular but looking peaceful.
I needed to find Dawn before someone alerted the authorities about my trespassing on private property. The barn was the obvious place to start, so I headed there, my steps slow, as if I’d figured out my reason for being here before I reached it.
As I slid the barn door open, it groaned on its hinges, revealing rows of horse stalls and the musty smell of hay. In the dim light, I spotted a guy up ahead, his back to me, sorting through a stack of metal buckets.
“Uh, hey,” I called out, trying not to sound like an intruder.
He turned, and I stopped short. He was younger than the other man on the porch but looked like he had Down syndrome. His almond-shaped eyes lit up when he saw me, and he smiled wide, like I was someone worth being happy about. It clicked all at once—this wasn’t just a ranch. It was something bigger, something more profound. A place where people were finding a kind of independence I hadn’t thought about before.
“Hi,” I said, trying to find my footing. “I’m looking for Dawn Taylor. Is she around?”
The guy didn’t answer me directly. Instead, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “DAWN! DAWN!” The sound echoed off the barn walls, startling a horse in one of the stalls.
“Okay,” I muttered under my breath, glancing around, hoping someone else would step in.
Footsteps thundered toward the barn, and a second later, Dawn burst through the doorway on the other side of the barn, looking panicked. Her eyes locked on the guy first, then slid to me. The panic turned into something sharper, angrier.
“What are you doing here, Nash Rhodes?” she demanded, striding toward me.
I put my hands up, as though caught red-handed. Maybe I was. “I, uh…” I hesitated, realizing I didn’t have a good answer. “I just wanted to see the ranch.”
Her face hardened, and she moved protectively in front of the guy, who I guessed was probably a family member. They had the same color hair, similar noses, and smiles. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice tight.
“I didn’t mean to upset anyone,” I said quickly. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you and see what you’re up to when you’re not winning rodeos.”
She shook her head, her jaw clenched. “This isn’t your business, Nash. It’s my family. My life. You don’t get to just show up here.”
The guy tugged on her sleeve, looking at her with wide, curious eyes. “Dawn, is he a friend?”
“No, Ben,” she said, softening for a second before snapping her attention back to me. “He’s leaving.”
I shifted my weight, caught between wanting to push back and knowing I probably shouldn’t. “I’m not here to make trouble, Dawn. I just…” I trailed off, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t even know why I’m here, okay? I just wanted to see you, I guess.”
Her expression faltered for a split second, but she recovered fast. “Well, now you’ve seen me,” she said, her voice brittle. “You can go.”
I glanced at the young man—Ben—who was watching me with open, unguarded curiosity. Then, back at Dawn, who looked like she was seconds away from shoving me out herself.
“Please?” I asked, finally finding something to say.
Dawn hesitated but turned toward the young man and asked him to help someone named Billie before turning to me.
She looked torn, as if wrestling with something she couldn’t quite bring herself to say. Finally, she stepped closer, her boots stomping against the concrete floor, the man making his way out of the barn behind her.
She was beautiful, with her tan skin, tight red T-shirt accentuating her curves, and her daggered gaze.
“What do you really want?” she asked, crossing her arms.
I sighed, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I already told you?—”
“Don’t give me that ‘I just wanted to see the ranch’ crap,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “You’re not the curious tourist type. So, what is it? Why are you here? And how did you even find out about my ranch?”
I hesitated, my jaw tightening. I could have lied again, spun another excuse, but something about how she looked at me—like she’d already made up her mind about the kind of man I was—made me want to prove her wrong.
“I heard you,” I admitted finally, my voice quieter now.
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“The other night. After your loss,” I said, glancing down at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “You and Willow. I overheard you talking about how bad things were with your ranch.”
Her face hardened instantly, her arms uncrossing as her hands curled into fists. “You spied on me?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said quickly, stepping closer but stopping when I saw her take a defensive step back. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just… I heard enough to know you’re in over your head.”
Her laugh was sharp and bitter. “Wow. Great. So now the whole rodeo scene probably knows my business, too?”
“Dawn, no,” I said firmly. “I didn’t say anything to anyone. And I’m not here to judge you. I’m here because I want to help.”
She shook her head, her ponytail swaying with the motion. “You don’t get it. I don’t need help. Especially not from you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice rising in frustration. “Because you think I’m some low-life singer who’s too stupid to know what hard work looks like?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t deny it.
“I’m not here to make your life more difficult, Dawn,” I continued, my tone softer now. “But I know what it’s like to have something that means the world to you slipping through your fingers. And I know how hard it is to admit you can’t fix it all on your own.”
“You don’t belong here. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Her words hit like a slap, but I wasn’t about to let her have the last word. I could be a stubborn ass when I wanted something.
“Maybe I don’t know everything,” I said, stepping closer. She stopped in her tracks, readying to leave the barn, her back turned to me. “But I do know one thing—you need help. And like it or not, I can give it to you.”
Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t respond. I pressed on, my voice steady. “I’ve got an idea, Dawn. Something that could save your ranch without turning it into something you don’t want.”
That got her attention. She spun around, arms crossed, glaring at me. “Oh, this should be good. Let me guess—you’re going to swoop in and buy the place?”
“Not even close,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m talking about a benefit concert.” The idea was forming as I spoke.
Her frown deepened, suspicion etched across her features. “A benefit concert,” she repeated flatly.
“Yeah,” I said, taking off my hat as nerves began to invade my body. “Big stage, big audience. We could raise enough to help you get back on track and keep this place running. It’s not charity—it’s a way to get people to invest in something worth saving.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “And what, you’d just do this out of the kindness of your heart? Sorry, Nash, but I’m not buying it.”
I hesitated before deciding to lay it all out. “It’s not just for you, alright?” I admitted. “It’d be good for me, too.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, here we go—the real reason behind it all.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Look, I’ve been in the tabloids a little too much lately for all the wrong reasons. My PR team’s been breathing down my neck about fixing my image, and I’ll be honest—I need something big and good. Something people can actually root for. Helping you and this ranch? That’s about as real as it gets.”
Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. “So, you’re just using me for good press.”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly, replacing my hat on my head as my self-confidence returned. “This isn’t about my ego. It’s about both of us. You need the money; I need the redemption arc. It’s a win-win.”
She stared at me, her expression unbelieving. “You really think some flashy concert is going to fix all our problems?”
“It’s a start,” I said simply. “I’m not saying it’s a miracle cure, but it’s better than letting this place go under while you try to fight it out alone.”
For a moment, the only sound was the faint rustle of wind through the barn. She looked at me as though she was trying to decide whether I was serious or just another smooth-talking musician looking for a headline. Memories of our first encounter flooded me, but there was no trace of the relaxed, teasing woman I’d met.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low. “And what happens when the lights fade and the cameras stop rolling, Nash? You pack up your guitar and ride off into the sunset while I’m still here, trying to hold it all together?”
Silence filled the barn. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but I knew that my life would return to its previous rhythm if everything went according to plan.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She wasn’t ready to trust me—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, I’d planted a seed.
“Think about it,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “You’ve got nothing to lose by letting me try.”
“No,” she said, her voice steely. “This ranch is my family’s. It’s our responsibility, not yours. I won’t let it turn into some pity project for a country star looking to play cowboy for a while.”
Her jaw tightened, and she turned away abruptly, heading back toward the house. “Go home, Mr. Rhodes,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ve seen enough.”
I watched her go, my chest tightening. She disappeared out of the barn, and I was left standing there, the wind picking up around me.
I made my way back and climbed into my truck, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I stared out at the ranch. She didn’t want my help—but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to walk away just yet.