Denton is sitting near the fence line, his long legs stretched out in front of him, hat tipped low, just picking a slow, wandering tune. He looks peaceful. It’s almost as if the ranch is claiming him and his guitar. Like maybe he belongs here.
“That sounds beautiful,” I say, stepping into view.
He looks up, not startled. Eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Didn’t take you for the type to sneak up on a man while he’s baring his soul to the mountains.”
I snort. “That wasn’t soul-baring. That was three chords and maybe a lyric, but like I said, it sounds good.”
He taps the guitar. “Gotta start somewhere.”
I hesitate, then walk over and lean on the fence beside him. For a minute, we sit there side by side. Him strumming something low and sweet—me staring off at the last light fading across the ridge.
“I’m not trying to impress you,” he mumbles, without looking at me.
I blink. “Did I say you were?”
“Nope. But I can tell I’ve been trying too hard anyway. Think I wanted to prove something.”
I pause, not knowing how to respond to that. He sets the guitar down gently beside him.
“Truth is…I’ve been so burnt out. The music, the shows—I love it don't get me wrong. But somewhere along the way I forgot what I was doing it for. Then I got here…and it’s like I remembered how to breathe again.”
That throws me off balance for a beat. I look over at him. He isn’t putting on a show. Not tonight.
“I thought this was just a vacation for you.”
He smiles, soft and a little sad. “So did I.”
I shift my weight. “You’re not the only one hiding from a life you used to love.”
He glances at me but doesn’t push.
I exhale. “This place…it’s safe…and I’ve been hiding out here most of the summer, hell, probably longer than that honestly.”
He nods. “He hurt you.”
I look down at my lap. “Yeah, he did.”
He doesn’t ask any more questions, just lets that comfortable quiet land again between us. After picking up the guitar again, he plays a few slow chords and hums something low.
“You writing a song?”
“Maybe.” He gives me a sideways look. “Kinda hard not to with you around.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “Am I gonna be your muse?” I ask, flipping my hair back and squaring up with him.
He shrugs. “I was thinkin’ ’bout it, girl as pretty as you, how could I not make you my muse.” He pauses again, then adds. “My agent called earlier. Big tour. Bigger than anything we’ve done, so I’m gonna need some new material.”
“Wow, Denton, that’s amazing. When is it?” I ask with genuine excitement for him.
“I told him I needed a few more days to think about it.”
He looks at me then, serious. “This place, it’s making me question things. And I don’t know what that means yet.”
My eyes go wide. “Denton, you’ve only been here one day and you’re ready to trade your mic and stage for a meager ranch hand salary?” I tease. “I thought furthering your career is what you wanted? You said so the other night.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s not. Maybe I want a quiet life, not always on the road with no real place to settle down. Maybe I want somewhere I can hide.”
