I was over here doing my best to keep this man humble, and George was telling him the whole damn town hadn’t slept in a month because they were too busy planning out their next chance to spot him.
“George, you’re too kind, sir. I really was just looking for a quiet place to catch my breath, maybe slow down a bit, and Quincey Falls seemed like a good fit.” Both his voice and his body shifted. He turned around, collecting the last few bridles that still lay at his feet from the earlier mishap.
George was oblivious to his response, continuing on with, “I think you’ll find it’s the perfect place.”
“Out of all the places in the whole world, you chose Quincey Falls?” I questioned, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m pretty sure our town doesn’t even show up on most maps, so how did you find it?”
George cleared his throat. “On that note, I think I’m going to leave you two to it.”
“Wait, George! The whole reason I got here early was to tell you that I went and saw Ms. Hansen today, down at theTribune,and she’s gonna find me something to do there. I start Monday.” I was beaming, and saying it out loud made it feel even more real, allowing the excitement from earlier to come barreling back.
“That’s incredible. I’m proud of you. I know things haven’t been easy lately, but you’re taking the right steps to get on track. We’ve been here before. You’ve got this.”
“Thanks, George. I’m really excited.”
“Of course, darlin’,” he said. “All right, I’m headed to wrangle a few head of cattle that got into the wrong pasture. I’ll be back in a bit, and if I’m not, you should probably come lookin’.” He chuckled. “And Stetson, feel free to help yourself to whatever tack you need. If you can’t find something, Scarlett knows this place like the back of her hand.”
“Sounds good, sir. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” George said as he turned and shuffled his boots in the other direction. A smile stretched across my face as I watched him trot away. That man would never not remind me of Woody fromToy Story. His tall stature and lengthy legs made him a spitting image, and he couldn’t be more of a cowboy if he tried.
I swiveled on my toes until my boots and body pointed directly at Stetson. “Okay, so can we go back to how you ended up here in Quincey Falls?”
Unbothered, he grabbed a coffee-colored leather saddle off the hook, one branded with the Rolling Meadows logo, and threw it over his shoulders. He was in another long-sleeved shirt, this one plain black and substantially more fitting than the one from the party, his biceps bulging through the thin material.
Oh.
“George wasn’t kidding when he said this town was nosy…” he said as he walked closer, stopping right in front of me. Ourbodies were so close that I could smell the spearmint in his breath. “Was he?”
“I’m not nosy,” I confirmed. “Just curious.”
“Mhm,” he uttered. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
“I sense someone is deflecting.”
“Nah,” he said, scrunching his face and casually shaking his head back and forth.
But he was. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.
“I just think you might be disappointed when you learn that the reason isn’t anything other than my agent knew I was looking for somewhere to write my next album, and he’s friends with Booker. They got to talkin’ and Booker mentioned something about Quincey Falls. He knew I could come here and be left alone, at least for the most part. He said Quincey Falls was quaint, quiet, and the closest place you’ll get to finding heaven on earth,” he said, stepping around me and toward the door.
I guess that made sense. Musicians were always going off on isolation retreats and dramatic explorations to try to find inspiration. I just never imagined Quincey Falls would be on the list of contenders, but maybe that was what made it perfect.
“You’re right. I am a little disappointed.”
I went silent, and so did his heavy footsteps.
“Is that so?” he asked, halting at the door.
“I thought you had a big secret or something, like you were running away from all of it because they kicked you out of Nashville,” I responded, the weight of sarcasm enough to sink us both.
My brain saw an opportunity as his back faced me and my eyes took it. I canvased his entire body, each inch more fascinating than the last. But his normally relaxed posture tensed just the slightest at the sound of my words and the grip he had on the saddle over his shoulder tightened.
His discomfort made a gaping pit in the bottom of my stomach, and I kept talking.
“But it doesn’t surprise me that Booker would bring you here and then parade you around his party.” I laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but he’s definitely not afly under the radarkind of guy.”
Everything softened again as he peered back at me over his shoulder.
