I set out for the wine section, which was jutted up to the beer aisle. “Had Me At Heads Carolina” played over the speakers in the store and I couldn’t help but sing along. I was about as cowgirl as the white cowboy boots in my suitcase, which was basically not much at all. I didn't know the first thing about horses or riding or anything cowboy at all, but I sure loved Country music. And this song was catchy.
Swaying and singing softly, I moseyed my way up and down the aisle, trying to look for a wine my dad would like. He’d always been more of a beer guy, but during one of our phone calls a few weeks ago, he’d told me Georgette turned him ontowine—it was better for his heart and less calories than beer. Georgette’s words.
I managed to find a wine that would do. He probably wouldn’t know the difference between this and some two buck chuck, but whatever.
Now for a card.
I turned…and my heart stopped.
Ho-ly. God.
The guy standing before me in the middle of the aisle looked like he’d stepped off the set of Yellowstone or a modern day western—from the boots, to the dark wash Wranglers, a plain black t-shirt sheathing a cut, muscular build, and a light straw cowboy hat. He had wavy brown hair that brushed against his shoulders, and a good amount of scruff. I wasn’t normally into guys with longer hair, but, damn, he wore it well.
Whit was right. There was something about a cowboy hat and boots that just transformed a man into the ultimate version of sexy. The guy had a handsome face, though I wished I could see his eyes, which were covered by the Raybans he wore.
The words to the song died on my lips, a wave of pure, undiluted humiliation washing over me. Oh my God. How long had he been there? How much had he heard of my singing? Shit. Well, this was embarrassing. I opened my mouth to…to what?
I wanted to go hide under a rock.
A nervous laugh made its way up my throat. “H-hi,” I squeaked out, forcing an embarrassed smile on my lips.
But he didn’t smile. Didn’t even react at all. It’s almost like he was looking right through me.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I did the only thing that made sense. Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I kept my gaze down and murmured out, “Sorry about that. Have a nice day.”
And then I walked away.
And not just walked, but like olympic power walked away. I was in such a frenzy, I almost forgot to pay for the stupid bottle of wine. It wasn’t until I’d gotten myself into the car that I really thought about the situation.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad? Maybe I was overreacting?
You ran away from him, Quinn.
Yeah…I hoped I didn’t bump into him again, or else I might just die of humiliation.
Chapter three
Blue Clear Sky
Hux
There was some shit—well,okay, a lotta shit—that sucked about losing your vision. There was the obvious, like, not being able to see, or do shit I normally could do with ease, but every now and then, something interesting came out of going blind.
My other senses became stronger, heightened in a way. Food had the chance to taste like fuckin’ heaven or complete ass. I could smell now like a damn bloodhound. My sense of touch and sound were heightened as well.
Maybe that’s why I heard her singing.
If I hadn’t gotten hurt, if I hadn’t spent the past three years navigating blindly through my shitty excuse of a life, I’d probably not even have picked up on her hushed singing. It’s not like she was the next Faith Hill or Martina McBride—not thatshe was a bad singer—no, there was something soft and warm about her voice. Something that drew me in, clutched at my heart and squeezed gently. Nothing had gotten to me on such a deep level in a long,longdamn time.
She was an aisle over, by the sound of it. Which meant…she was in the beer and wine section. She continued her soft singing. I wondered if she knew others were listening and simply didn’t care? Or would she clam up and shut down if I said something?
Like a moth to a flame, I found myself slowly making my way over there. It’d taken me a long time to figure out the layout of this store. It didn’t help that I refused to use a cane, but my spacial awareness had gotten better. It was weird, but I could sense where the shelves were without even reaching out to touch them if I focused hard enough.
She was still singing as I rounded the corner and slowly made my way down the next aisle. I wondered what she looked like. She sounded young, but voices could be deceiving—I’d learned. Thinking of her voice filled me with a sense of warmth. A warmth that grew and spread the closer I got to her, until I was close enough that I felt her presence. The heat of her body radiated out toward me.
I was so close I could reach out and touch her. Then what? She’d probably think I was a crazy person for being so close. And I didn’t want her to stop singing just yet.
