5. Kelsey
five
Kelsey
O ver the next week, the energy between Scott and I shifts so much I’m not sure I’m even looking at the same man. I didn’t know how much energy it took to carry negative vibes, but with that weight cleared of my shoulders, I find being around him… easy. Comforting.
I’d expected our first date to follow all the run-of-the-mill stuff people do on dates. Wandering the market, grabbing a picnic, going on a hike through the trails. None of which were quite my speed.
I hadn’t expected that he’d take me do something I loved. Hadn’t known that he knew those things about me.
As I continue prepping and loading the pastry case to ready the coffeeshop for the morning rush, his words replay in my mind, urging me to turn them over like an unusual rock in my palm.
I stopped looking for a girlfriend because I wanted a wife.
Y ou were giving off a Princess Leia vibe, and I thought it was sexy as fuck.
What are my chances of calling you wifey?
Then, a song comes on over the sound system. One of his. “Hometown Honey”, if I remember right.
I normally don’t register the sound of the music over the whirr of grounds and the sounds of locals and visitors enjoying their food and drinks. Often, I’m too busy focusing on the next order, the next guest, the current stock and inventory, and the bills and balance sheet that wait for me in the back office.
But today, my ears relish in the sound of Scott’s deep, rumbly vocals and the strains familiar to country twang. Snippets about an unrequited love for a curly haired queen with eyes that rage like a Montana sky in a thunderstorm worm their way into my ears, but I miss out on the rest when Sloane ushers Lily through the front door.
“Sorry I’m late,” she murmurs, shucking off her jacket and peering up at the sky. “I think we’re going to get some rain today, and someone didn’t want to change out of her spring dress or bring her raincoat in.”
Lily rolls her brown eyes and tosses her long, beaded braids over one shoulder. The action is so perfectly reminiscent of her mother’s own sass that I have to hold back a laugh.
“A little water’s no big deal. Back in California, it hardly ever rained.” Lily hooks her thumbs into her pink Minecraft backpack and leans in, looking at me. “But sometimes it’d flood the streets, and then our driver would run right through them, making the water splash up in a huge spray!” She imitates the sound like a whoosh! and pouts up at her mom. “I miss having a driver. But mostly, I miss having a car. Walking takes too long.”
“I’m working on it, baby, okay? We’re getting there, thanks to your Auntie Kelsey here.” Sloane sends me a look over Lily’s head and I offer up a smile of solidarity. “It’s because of her that we were able to move out here. And she’s very kindly letting us stay rent free in that house.”
“Technically, it’s my brother’s house and Travis isn’t using it,” I say. “In fact, he’s so busy doing God-knows-what that he can’t even respond to any of my calls or texts.”
“Still?” Sloane asks. “It’s been months.”
“Almost two,” I say. “But he does this thing where he falls off the face of the earth and then turns up when you least expect it. Maybe getting a car will be like that, Lils. It’ll turn up when you least expect it.”
She lets out a loud groan and crosses her arms. “It’s already been for-ev-er .”
Shaking her head, Sloane heads to the kitchen and ties her apron strings around her trim waist. I make a mental note to touch bases with her when there aren’t little ears around so I can make sure she is getting what she needs, or if there’s something else I can be do to support her while she works through the transition coming back here.
“Maybe it didn’t rain much in California, but here in Montana, we get some pretty epic weather. Bet if you watch outside your classroom window later this afternoon, you might catch a glimpse of the kind of thunderstorms we get.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Isn’t it just some wind and rain?”
“Plus, thunder and lightning,” I nod, shutting the display case and moving to flip the sign from closed to open. “When I was your age, I used to think the gods were having a big argument on the mountaintops, and Zeus was throwing his thunderbolts around to get all the other gods’ attention.”
“There are gods living up on the mountain? Cool!” Lily’s eyes go round and her mouth forms a little o-shape, then she tears into the kitchen to tell her mom all about the gods having a fight in the sky before I can tell her Mt. Olympus is not outside our window.
Oops.
Once the morning rush starts, Lily gets whisked off to school with another local family. I lose myself in the work for a few hours, and nearly forget about Scott’s songs until a moment of peace descends on the coffeeshop. Mrs. Sanderson and her granny group have gathered, chit chatting and making more progress on their various woolen projects.
After admiring the work she’s put into the twin granny square blankets she’s making for Mel, I head back behind the counter and find myself expectedly looking up every time the bell rings to signal a new customer arrival.
“Somebody’s on the look out,” Sloane chides as she lines up a few to-go pre-orders on the side, ready for lunch pick-up. “Only got a few orders today. Think the storm’s putting pre-orders off, so we might be in for a quieter lunch hour than usual. Where’s the Mr. Country Music hanging out today?”
I give a nonchalant shrug even as I scan the windows for any sign of him. Instead, all I see is ominously dark clouds rolling across our sky.
“Not sure. I’m meeting him for lunch after my shift ends, so I think he’ll be here by then. But it’s good to get a little space. I can try to sift through my feelings without being distracted by his presence.”
“Seems to me you’re distracted in his absence, too.”
I tear my gaze from the front door and windows and get to washing out the blender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on, Kelsey. It’s me. I’m usually the last to clue into what everyone else is going through because I’m locked into my own mess of a world with Lily. But even I can see that you’re into that man and feeling conflicted about it. Why? What’s up?”
A heavy sigh passes through my lips. “Trust is a big thing for me, Sloane. Until I went to college and joined the Xi Chis, I didn’t feel like there was anyone outside of my family I could lean on.”
“This about those mean girls again?”
“Without knowing it, Scotty triggered some of my trust issues with the way he teased me when we were kids.”
“You know, you shouldn’t hold people responsible for shit they didn’t do to you. Especially if they didn’t do it maliciously.”
“I know,” I groan. “I guess I just felt this need to protect myself, you know? Because of them, I started building up all these walls and obsessing about planning and control. In some ways, that was a gift. It honed my ambition, taught me how to pursue my dreams, but it also reinforced the idea that I didn’t need anybody else. That kept me strong, especially when everyone in my family left town and I was left here alone.”
“And you did.”
“I did, but Sloane, I’m tired of doing it all alone.”
She gives me a small smile. “So… don’t. If you got someone willing to partner up with you and you want to partner up with him, you owe it to yourself to try to make it work.”
“I don’t know if it can. He’s got an entire life away from this place. Like my brothers and my parents, and even you, Sloane. He made a life away from here. My life is here in Wintervale. This is home.”
“Some of us come back. I did. Dani did. Your parents will. I don’t know about your brothers.”
Outside, the storm clouds roll in over the mountaintops, obscuring the view and reflecting back the tumult of emotions that run through me. Soon, the sky will clash and clang, rumble and rain. They’ll refresh and renew everything.
And maybe that’s what I need too. A fresh start. Maybe one with Scott.
“You’re right. I made my home here, my life, my business. I even centered it on cultivating a sense of community, an extended family we can welcome into our homey place,” I gesture around at the plush seating, the brick fireplace, and walls adorned with locally sourced art and the shelf bearing the preferred mismatched mugs of our regulars. “Maybe not everything in life has to be perfectly aligned or perfectly matched. God knows my family isn’t, and even you guys aren’t—as much as I love you all.”
Sloane laughs.
“But maybe that’s where the beauty of making families lies. In our differences and in our similarities.”
“Yes, girl.” Sloane wraps her arms around me and clutches me close in a warm hug. “The thing about families is, we can always expand them. We can make room for more. After being hurt by others, you still opened up your heart to the rest of us. Surely, if you wanted to, you could make space in your heart for one more. Don’t you think he’s been waiting long enough?”
I swipe at my eyes, annoyed that I’ve somehow turned into a leaky faucet ever since Scotty came back to town. “What do you mean? How would you know? You didn’t grow up with him.”
Pulling back, she shoots me an incredulous look. “You really don’t listen to country, do you?”
“Well, I prefer calming music I can unwind to and use for focus. Without lyrics.”
“The lyrics are the best part. They tell a story. And in Hunter Tate’s case? They show his heart and how it’s been bleeding for this one woman for years. Give me a sec,” she disappears into the back, and modifies what’s coming through the speakers with a few taps on the tablet. That device controls everything in-house from the lights to the temperature to the song choices.
And then Sloane gives me an audio primer on Hunter Tate’s music. The melodies are beautiful, moving, or lively enough to tap your feet to, but the lyrics… the lyrics are filled with heart-wrenching longing for a lifetime love and wistful dreams of a life on a stretch of open land with a woman unafraid to put him in his place. The picture he paints with his words and his melodies burrow deep into my soul until I can’t take anymore. With tears free falling down my cheeks, I print out the lyrics and call Dani in early to fill in for me.
Then I take off running as if chased by the storm itself.
By the time I round the corner to my childhood home where my parents’ house lay empty, the sky splits open and I hurry toward the green-and-white house next door. Rain cascades down as I pump my legs harder, faster. Three houses down, I catch a flash of plaid through his window. It’s there and gone in a second as his front door flies open and smacks loudly against the wall.
“What are you doing, woman?” he shouts, rushing out holding his Stetson against the wind and ripping his plaid off one shoulder as he moves. “What are you doing here? I thought the plan was to meet in town before we went for our picnic. Although, so much for that idea.”
My steps slow and I bring a hand to my wildly thumping heart, heedless of the falling rain or the rolling thunder. With my breath coming in ragged puffs, my words come out in gasps.
“Can’t… run…” I press a hand against the stitch in my side and double over. “Out… of… practice.”
“Alright, honey, just breathe. Shit, it’s pouring.” He holds the shirt over me and I straighten beneath it. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Wait.” I draw another breath and lean my body against his. With one hand latched onto his shirt, I rest a fistful of crumpled, wet printouts against his heart.
His gaze drops to the sheath of papers I hold. Then, he looks down at me with apprehension in his green eyes. “What is it?”
Soaked in rain, nipples peaked from the weather or from being flush against Scott’s body, I swallow hard. “Are these songs—the ones you wrote—are they about me?”
His mouth quirks up in a soft, sheepish smile, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. With his free hand, he cups my cheek, thumb stroking lightly against the cool wet rain falling on my face.
“They’re all about you, darlin’. My hometown honey, my forbidden sweet thing, my wild wonder woman who can beat the devil in a shootout.”
“Why? Why did you write about me?”
“Because I could never get you out of my head. You were always it for me, Kelsey. From the moment Travis introduced you to me, my world’s never been the same. I thought I’d get your attention one day, that all my antics and jokes would make you see me, but I know now that I went about it all wrong. All I ever wanted was for you to look in my direction.”
I zero in on his mouth, on the wry twist of his lips and rise up on my toes.
“Well, Scott. I’m looking now.” And then I pull him down to me and press my mouth to his. The moment our lips touch, an electric pulse detonates between us. My brain shorts out and time freezes. The world around me goes silent and stock still, then fires up again in a heaving surge.
The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance as the heat of his tongue rims my lips, and I open for him. Sliding and teasing and tasting, I lose myself when he bands his arms around me. He hauls me against his body, and with a mighty jump, I wrap my legs around his middle. The hard, insistent ridge of his cock presses against my heated center and I grind down on hard, gasping against his mouth.
His hands grip on my ass, kneading me through my leggings and holding me in place against his thickness. I choke out a moan and feel slick heat pooling between my legs, dampening my panties with every slide of his tongue against mine.
“We’re getting soaked,” I murmur against his lips.
His laugh rumbles through his chest as he kisses along the line of my jaw. “Speak for yourself.”
This time, my laugh comes out low and husky.
Then, I swipe his hat and put it on my head to shield us both from the torrent of rain before planting another kiss on him. I dig my teeth into the fleshy softness of his lip, causing him to groan and grind himself against me in a way that makes me want to tear every stitch of clothing off his body and having him right here, in the rain.
But I think better of it and pull back to stare at him with want rampaging through my body like a pack of wild horses.
“I think we better take this inside, cowboy. Unless you want to give the neighbors a show.”
Then I squeal as he hitches me up over his shoulder and makes a run for it as the sound of rolling thunder follows us.