4. Scott
four
Scott
K elsey’s been chewing on her lower lip for the better part of the ride to the outskirts of town, keeping the chat to safe topics like how long am I home for, whether my dad and stepmom are planning on selling their old place next door to her childhood home, and what my cousin Jasper thinks of small town life.
But this, too, is a front. She’s trying to maintain her ironclad control and guard her heart because she thinks I’ll be careless with it, with her.
Can’t blame her for thinking it. I never did give much thought to how it must’ve felt for her to be the object of my affections when she didn’t recognize them as such. Not her fault, though. I never did come right out and say it to her, even though her brother was well aware of my feelings and mostly rolled his eyes and gagged at me whenever I tried—and failed—to connect with Kelsey.
“Jas is fascinated by the town, and he keeps snapping all kinds of artistic photos of any old timey stuff he comes across for his social media feeds. He’s called it charming and cute, which I think in Jas-speak means it’s growing on him.” I glance over at her lounging in my passenger seat, elbow propped on the door and a small hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her hair catches the light and the auburn strands dance around her face in the passing breeze.
“You’re not putting him up in the resort the whole time you’re here, are you? Not when you’ve got your parents’ house you can host him in.”
“Trust me, I’ve been on the road with that man enough to know that me and him get on a lot better when we have our own space.”
She laughs and the sound makes me grin. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her crack up that I’d forgotten what a sweet sound it is, even though I wrote a whole song about it once.
I take the next turn off, and she sits up straight in her seat as realization hits.
“Ohmygod, is this the surprise?” Her hand lashes out, lands right on my leg, and I nearly hit the brakes from the shock of her touch. “Are you taking me to the trap and skeet club? Are we shooting skeet?”
Pleasure and pride seep through me at her excitement and the sheer joy that explodes over her face. Her smile and the squeal that she emits tells me I got this right.
Then, she tilts her head. “Why didn’t you tell me we were doing this? I would’ve brought my own shotgun.”
“Well, seeing as most everything I do pisses you off, I thought better of putting a gun in your hands before we even got there. Besides, I needed to level the playing field somehow, so we’re both using rentals,” I laugh. “Can’t take on a former high school state champion without trying to give myself some kind of advantage.”
“You knew I won the state championship?” Her hand flexes over my thigh and my cock tightens in response. “But you’d moved to Nashville by then. And Travis was away in basic training. I’m pretty sure I didn’t put that tidbit in my matchmaking profile, so how did you know?”
It’d be easier to give her the answer she expects. One that will have her eyes rolling and her mouth twitching, but if I want her to see me as more than her brother’s best friend, I have to be honest.
“I read about it in the online version of the town paper. Followed your accomplishments and your career, but also heard updates from your brother and family. I also know you went to MSU Starlight Springs on scholarship because of it.”
“Oh,” she breathes, surprise evident in her tone. “You mean, like, you kept up with the town gossip even when you were away?”
“No, honey. As much as I adore this town, I didn’t follow the town gossip. I followed you . Always knew you’d do grand things in life. Had so much ambition and determination, I knew you’d do great things. I wanted to cheer you on as you smashed all your goals.”
“Why would you do that?”
I give it a second, then say, “Because I wanted to, Kelsey. Because I’ve had a crush on you all my life and every one of my antics was meant to get your attention. Though, I know now it didn’t quite work the way I’d hoped.”
My heart constricts in my chest when she doesn’t respond, and I don’t know what to make of her silence as I park the truck. When I pull the key from the ignition and turn to face her fully, I’m floored to find her swiping at her eyes.
Shit.
“Kels? What’s wrong? What’d I say?”
“This! This is all wrong.”
I raise a brow. “I thought you’d enjoy sk—”
“No!” She lets out a sharp chuckle, blinks furiously and fans at her face. “I’m not crying. There’s just, um, some dust.”
Liar.
“I don’t understand. Two seconds ago, you were happy. Now, I’ve gone and made you cry somehow. Is this what you meant when you said we’d go on one disaster date at a time?” I check my watch, feel an edge of panic wedge itself somewhere in my belly. It makes me want to crack a joke and find a way to make her smile. “I feel I should warn you we’re past your twenty-minute marker. An improvement over our first disaster, but I don’t know if driving counts.”
“This date is a disaster, too” she says, as she gives me a watery sort of smile, kicks open her door and undoes her seatbelt. “You weren’t supposed to be charming.”
“Lesson number two,” I shout, undoing my belt to jump to help her. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. “People can change.”
She’s halfway to the club before I lock up, and by the time I catch up with her inside, she’s picked out her gear and is in the middle of tying up all those luscious curls of hers into a high ponytail.
The smile she flashes me is bright, gleeful. Whatever defense mechanisms she’s used to having in place whenever she deals with me have dropped a bit, and that makes me wonder if I might actually have a shot here.
“I hope you’re ready for the spanking you’re about to get, baby.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she slips on eye protection. “I might be out of practice, but I seem to remember you couldn’t shoot your way out of a paper bag.”
There’s a joke on the tip of my tongue about who gets to spank whom, but I hold it back in an effort to show her that I can be mature. Especially when I’m not entirely sure she won’t shoot me for cracking more jokes.
“Guess we’ll find out, but I think we should make it interesting.”
“How so?”
“For every shot missed, the other person gets to ask a question. Make ‘em good because the person answering must give an honest, truthful response.”
She blows a raspberry in my direction. “Oh, easy. I’ll have you telling me all your secrets by the end of the night.”
“I’m counting on it.”
After two rounds, I’ve learned that the coffeeshop was the inheritance she’d requested from her parents when they decided to spend their retirement taking their RV on the road. That her proudest accomplishment is being able to provide a soft landing place for the sorority sisters she bonded with in college. And that if she hadn’t successfully been matched by Mountain Match by spring, she was planning on giving up on dating and looking into alternative plans to start a family.
That part was news to me and I planned on asking more about it, except she hasn’t missed a shot since.
For my part, I hold my own against the champion, though I had to spill my most embarrassing moment (that one time I made a fool of myself in front of my country music idol when I first got my big break), the worst trouble I ever got in (when I was busted for lying about my whereabouts after passing out from overindulgence at a high school party with Travis), and the worst thing about being famous.
That answer comes easy. “No privacy, and a very small circle of people I can trust.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“City life is pretty lonely for me,” I say. “Everyone’s always hurrying to get someplace, no one’s interested in slowing down and getting to know a person.”
“So you’re in no rush to head back to L.A. then?” she asks while we watch another shooter take their turn at the station.
“No rush, no. But I’ll be need to head back there to record the new album and film the next season of Talented when they schedule all the auditions and sort the film schedule.”
By the time we’ve got our last two rounds, Kelsey’s hit her stride. Her aim gets better and better, and mine steadily worsens as we keep chatting in between shots.
I have to make each of my questions count, so I deepen my questions and discover the only one of her dreams still outstanding involves a house, a partner, and as many kids as she can bear.
When I miss my next shot, she asks me what I look for in a girlfriend.
“Well, I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend,” I answer, squinting up at the sky. “I stopped looking for them because I wanted a wife.”
“Didn’t find one in all the gaggle of women I’ve heard chasing you down in the streets?”
I chuckle. “I’ve been proposed to plenty, sure. And there have been some awkward moments, a couple of dangerous ones, but despite what you might’ve read or heard, I’m a man of honor.”
She snorts. “So you’re not country’s hottest sex god?”
I stare at her from under the brim of my hat. “Think that’s one you’ll need to judge for yourself.”
“You can’t have turned them all down.”
“I’m human enough to admit I didn’t turn them all down. But most of them, I did.”
“Well, now, that’s three surprises on one date,” she says, turning her attention back to watch another player at the next shooting station. “Why didn’t you take them up on their offers?”
“None of them fit the bill. They didn’t have what I’m looking for.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Someone I can laugh with, who can enjoy my brand of humor. Someone with their own dreams, their own life. I don’t want to feel like the answer to her problems, you know? Just want to complement her and support her through conquering whatever challenges she faces and vice versa.”
“So that’s how you ended up on Mountain Match.”
“That’s why Jasper thought Mountain Match might be the answer, but really, he was thinking about keeping my name and my picture in the public eye while I hid out here.”
“Oh?” she asks. “It was a publicity stunt?”
I shrug. “I think he meant for it to be, but I’m not sure if that’s the whole truth. I think Jas knew I was feeling lonely and missing home, so he thought organizing a date with someone here would inspire me to write.”
“And did it?”
My gaze meets hers, and I think of all the half written lyrics in my notebook and the partially finished melodies I’ve worked out. I wouldn’t ordinarily talk about the status of my projects this early, but the game calls for truth.
“Yes, I am inspired.”
She misses her next shot, and my heart thuds in my chest as she makes her way back to my side.
“What do you see when you look at me?”
Her mouth purses as she whips her head up to look at me.
“What, you mean a six-foot-three, light-haired, bearded cowboy?”
My lips quirk up. “Okay, smartass, you know what I meant.”
“I’m not really sure.” She busies herself with inspecting her shotgun. “I see a man who uses humor to hide parts of himself he doesn’t want people to see. I see the boy who relentlessly teased me about how I wore my hair—”
“In my defense, you were giving off a Princess Leia vibe, and I thought it was sexy as fuck. That was not me teasing you, that was me trying to communicate that I liked you.”
She holds up a hand. “I understand that I might’ve been a little… sensitive to how you communicated. But you never missed an opportunity to try to get a rise out of me, even when it was something innocent. I know you thought it was harmless, but you also never seemed to register how I took the joke.” She pauses for a moment as if deciding whether to say more. Then, in a quiet voice directed at the sky, she adds, “Since I was already getting socially shafted and teased at school, I didn’t find it that funny.”
Well, shit.
Her words hit heavy and make my stomach sink like a lead weight. Maybe it had been constant. Maybe it hadn’t felt kind or funny for her, and instead, felt cruel or heartless, even if that hadn’t been my intention.
A tight, hard lump forms in my throat as I watch her face twist into thoughtful expressions in the wake of exposing her vulnerabilities. A clash of emotions flicker over her face, puckering her lips and a furrowing brow. Averting her eyes, she schools a loose strand of hair back behind one ear with trembling fingers.
“That why you don’t like the nickname Muffin?”
She nods. “There was this group of girls who’d picked on me. They called me a slew of different names, including Muffin Top, because the style of jeans back in the day weren’t flattering for my figure. I hated that time, hated that name. And every time you called me Muffin, that just grated on that same nerve.”
“Fuck,” I scrub a hand down my face and pull my beard. “I’m sorry, Kelsey. I didn’t know. I never would’ve used that name if I had. I called you that because I found you sweet. Like honey, or sugar, or sweetheart, but shit. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad. There’s no excuse for what I did back then, and I won’t invalidate your experience by offering any.”
Her gaze searches mine, as if weighing the truth of my words for their earnestness. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and lays her hand over mine.
“It was a long time go, and it wasn’t right for me to hold what those girls did to me against you. I knew you didn’t mean it maliciously, but that name—that word—it just… it just hurts. Even now. But I appreciate and accept your apology. You may have annoyed me a helluva lot, but you never hurt me. You just drove me crazy.” She flashes a small, shy smile in my direction. “Still do, sometimes. You could do with timing your jokes a bit better.”
“I’ll do better, I swear.” I say, heart lodged in my throat as I tuck away that smile of hers, precious and perfect as it is. Something I’ll think about later when I write the tender ballad already inscribing itself into my heart, my soul.
“Promise?” She lifts her right pinkie in the air.
Still keeping hold of my shotgun, I awkwardly wrap my left pinkie around hers. “I promise.”
“Then it’s a truce. Just don’t call me Muffin ever again.”
I nod and she spreads her delicate fingers over my palm. The movement is slow, sensual, testing. And because I can’t hold back, I ask, “And what are my chances of calling you wifey?”
Her gray eyes roll upward to the sky in mock contemplation before she smiles at me. “I’ll think about it.”
So when she laces her fingers through mine and our linked hands hang in the space between us, hope as big and wide the Montana sky blooms in my chest.