13. Nash
Chapter 13
Nash
I plucked the strings of my guitar absently, the notes drifting aimlessly through the room. Easton sat across from me, his own guitar propped on his knee, tuning pegs clicking softly as he adjusted. Richard stood by the window, scrolling through his phone, the glow casting a sharp light across his face. The mood was... complicated.
“So,” Richard said, finally looking up, “we’ve got the benefit concert locked in. The venue’s good, the date’s set, and ticket sales are already rolling. Now, we just need to push the promo. That’s where the ranch comes in.”
Easton raised an eyebrow. “The ranch?”
Richard nodded. “We want to highlight the residents and the work Dawn Taylor’s doing there. Humanize the whole thing. Show people what this concert is really about. We’ve lined up a crew—videographers, photographers, the whole shenanigans. They’ll head out tomorrow to start capturing footage.”
I leaned back, the guitar resting across my lap. “You’re bringing cameras to the ranch?”
“Yeah,” Richard said, his tone practical, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The visuals will sell this, Nash. People want to see who they’re helping. It’s all about connection.”
“Does Dawn know about this?” I asked, my voice tighter than I intended. Deep down, I didn’t want to show the world the ranch. I felt like it was mine—my peace and quiet. But I didn’t have a choice, and this whole benefit concert idea was mine to start with.
“Already called her. She’s on board,” Richard said with a wave of his hand. “But, you know, you’ll have to smooth things over if she gets twitchy. You’re good at that.”
I shot him a look, but Easton cut in before I could reply. “It’s not just about the visuals,” he said, his tone measured. “It’s about doing this right. The ranch isn’t a backdrop—it’s their home.”
Richard shrugged, clearly uninterested in splitting hairs. “Sure, sure. Just make sure everyone looks happy. It’s good PR.”
I exchanged a glance with Easton, and he gave me a slight nod, like we silently agreed to keep Richard on a leash.
* * *
The next day, the ranch felt like a circus.
Videographers set up cameras near the barn, their tripods sticking out of the mud with their awkward metal legs. A drone buzzed overhead, zipping around to capture aerial shots.
Dawn stood on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her posture tense. I could see the strain in her expression even from a distance.
Clara and Ben, on the other hand, were eating up the attention. Ben was showing off his favorite horse, talking animatedly to a cameraman who nodded along, while Clara posed with one of the ranch cats, beaming every time the photographer snapped a picture. Simon hovered nearby, watching the drone with quiet fascination.
Dawn caught my eye as I approached, her frown deepening. “This is... a lot,” she said, her voice low.
“I know,” I said, stepping closer. “It’s overwhelming. But it’s for the concert—it’ll help raise more money for the ranch, for them.”
She nodded, but her shoulders stayed stiff. “I get it. I do. It’s just... My parents built this place with their hands. It was never meant to be a spectacle.”
“It’s not,” I said gently. “It’s their home, your home. That’s what we’re showing. The heart of it.”
Before she could reply, one of the videographers approached us, a nervous smile plastered on his face. “Miss Taylor?” he asked, holding up his camera. “We were wondering if we could get some shots of you in the ring. You know, the whole ‘rodeo princess’ angle. It’s a great hook.”
Dawn stiffened beside me, and I saw her jaw tighten. “I’m not sure it’s good if we make it about me…”
“But you’re known for it,” the guy said, oblivious. “It’d add a lot of authenticity to the story we’re telling.”
By the time Dawn stepped into the ring, the crew was set up, their cameras trained on her like she was the center of the universe—and she was.
She wore pale brown leather chaps, a baby blue striped shirt, and her typical white cowgirl hat. She sat tall on Celine’s back like she was perfectly at ease with all the press around her.
Easton and I leaned against the fence, watching as she guided Celine into a smooth canter. The horse moved like it was an extension of her, and the way she held herself—confident, graceful, entirely in control—made it impossible to look away.
“The magazines didn’t lie. She’s good,” Easton said, his tone casual but appreciative.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my eyes still fixed on her as she shifted the mare into a gallop, the wind catching her hair and the sun lighting her up as if she belonged to it.
Easton didn’t say anything more, but his quiet nod told me he’d noticed the way I couldn’t stop watching her. He didn’t need to say it outright—his knowing silence was enough.
Dawn slowed Celine to a stop in the center of the ring, dismounting with an ease that made it look like second nature. The crew moved closer, snapping photos and asking her to pose. She rolled her eyes but humored them, and I couldn’t help but admire her even more for it.
She caught my eye as she handed Celine’s reins to Willow, and for a moment, it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of us. She gave me a small, almost shy smile, and I felt something tighten in my chest.
Yeah, I was in trouble.
The crew wrapped up not long after, their chatter buzzing with excitement as they packed up their gear. Dawn lingered by the ring, brushing Celine’s mane as the horse nudged her shoulder affectionately. The tension I’d seen in her earlier seemed to have eased, replaced by something softer, calmer.
I walked over, hands in my pockets, the dirt crunching under my boots. “That was impressive,” I said, stopping a few feet away.
She looked up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her forehead. “Thanks. I try my best every time I’m in the ring. Sometimes, I forget about the competition and just appreciate the moment with my horse. Other times, I’m just concentrating on not making a fool of myself in front of the cameras.” She laughed softly.
“Well, you looked perfectly at ease today. You’re honoring your ‘rodeo princess’ title, princess.” I winked.
She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “It felt good, I won’t lie. But having cameras in my face like that feels off. Like I’m somehow lying to everyone.”
“I know this feeling too well,” I said, my voice steady. “But riding is in your blood, Dawn. Even with the cameras, you didn’t just perform—you commanded the whole scene. That’s something not everyone can do.”
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, something unspoken passing between us before she looked back at her mare. “Maybe,” she said softly. “I just don’t want the ranch to lose what makes it special, you know? All this attention—it’s for a good cause, but it’s not why we do what we do here.”
“I get it,” I said. And I did. The cameras, the buzz, the outside world—it could feel like an intrusion, like it was taking something pure and making it something else. “But no one can change what this place means. Not cameras, not crowds. The heart of it—that’s yours. And no one’s taking that away.”
She looked at me again, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to decide if she could believe me. Finally, she nodded, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not half bad at this reassurance thing.”
“Don’t spread it around,” I said with a grin. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
She laughed, and the sound was light, free—like a heavy cloud had finally drifted away.
“Come on,” she said, giving Celine one last pat before making her way out of the stall. “Let’s see how the residents are doing. Clara’s probably telling the crew her entire life story by now.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said, falling into step beside her.
* * *
Inside the main house, the residents were still buzzing with excitement. Clara was indeed chatting with one of the cameramen, her hands gesturing wildly as she recounted some tale I couldn’t quite catch. Ben was proudly showing off his Celine Dion disc collection to another, explaining the stories behind each piece. Even Simon, usually so reserved, was sitting near the window, watching the drone footage on a small monitor with quiet fascination.
Dawn glanced around, her expression softening as she took it all in. “They’re happy,” she said, almost to herself.
“Of course they are,” I replied. “This is their home, and they’re proud of it.”
She looked at me, something unreadable in her gaze, and for a moment, I thought she might say something. But then Clara called out, asking her to join them, and she gave me a small smile before walking over.
I stayed where I was, watching her. Easton sidled up beside me, hands in his pockets.
“Quite the show today,” he remarked, his tone light.
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes still on Dawn as she laughed at something Ben said, her shoulders relaxing in a way that made her seem lighter. “It was.”
Easton was quiet for a moment before he added, “I feel like you’re changing, Nash.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say more.
He was right. I was changing. Watching Dawn, surrounded by the people who loved her and the ranch, something settled deep in my chest.
I wasn’t just here for the music, the concert, or even the residents. I was here for her. Maybe that was the real reason behind every decision I had made up until now.
I had to remind myself that my real life awaited me outside this ranch. I still had to go on stage and get Rebel Rose back on track for Easton.
Still, I couldn’t help the warm feeling invading my stomach when I looked at her.