Page 15 of She's My Kind Of Rain

“Oh, honey, you’re not the first to accuse me of such a talent, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” She lets out a chuckle and heads to another customer who just approached the bar.

A soft whistle sounds from behind us. “Evenin’, ladies.”

I fight back a groan. From the sound of the awful southern accent alone, I can already tell I’m going to hate this guy.

Kaylee gives me a cringey look before we turn to see who is talking to us.

“I couldn’t help but notice ya from across the bar and I’m sure had ya been turned the other way, ya woulda noticed me too, so I figured I’d save your tight little asses the trouble and make my way over to you.”

Each forced twang after the next makes me feel more and more disgusted by him, but the term ‘tight little asses’makes me cringe.

I survey his entire appearance, holding in a laugh that would surely be laced with distaste. The man has a weak mustache that screamsI’ve never kissed anyone besides my mom,and he stands about four inches shorter than the both of us, even with his cowboy hat perched—incorrectly, I might add—on his head.

“Has that ever worked on anyone?” I do my best to keep a straight face, trying not to stare at his crinkled straw hat decorated with a beer company’s label on it. He doesn’t look like a gentleman, he looks like an idiot. To further separate him from any cowboy I would find attractive, he’s wearing cargo shorts, flip flops and a button down t-shirt that, of course, has many of the buttons undone.

“Oh darlin’, all I have to do is wink and I have women on their knees...”

Before the wannabe cowboy can finish his sentence, another man’s voice comes from our left. “I would assume that’s because they’re tryin’ to decline ya at your level, since it appears their distaste for your behavior is over your head,” says an extremely handsome, sandy blond haired man who meets my gaze with deep chocolate eyes.

“Listen, buddy, how about you mind your own business? These ladies clearly have no issue with me being here.” His southern twang—if you could even call it that—all but vanishes while he does his best to defend his behavior while slamming his pointer finger into the cowboy’s chest.

The handsome stranger has his hands on his hips, and I can’t help but scan his tall lean body. Opposite to the asshole in front of us, he appears to be dressed in something I think an actual cowboy would wear, from dark denim and a plain shirt, to worn cowboy boots and a hat that looks just like from the movies.

“That’s probably because they couldn’t see you.”

Holding my breath, I look from the strangers to Kaylee, unsure of how to respond, but doing my best not to laugh because I truly don’t like to hurt people’s feelings—even if this guy deserves it.

“Do either of these broads belong to you?” He pauses for a very short time, adjusting his bent up hat, pretending to care about the cowboy having a chance to answer. “No? Okay, then let me work my magic and continue giving blondie over here butterflies.” He winks. “The name’s Russ, baby.” Scooching closer toward Kaylee, he strokes her arm.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing or seeing, yet even more so, I can’t believe that Kaylee has kept her mouth shut this long. We’re both bold in different ways, however Kaylee very rarely will put up with anyone’s bullshit. At this point, I’m almostpositive she’s just enjoying watching this trainwreck as much as I’m shocked by it, but I can see that him touching her arm has set the fire ablaze in her eyes. Her hand is tightly wrapped in a fist and I brace myself for whatever is about to happen next. There’s no way in hell Kaylee is letting this man walk away with his ego unscathed.

She rips her arm away from his touch. “That’s real cute of you to assume.” Her tone is entangled with anger and sarcasm as she leans forward and literally pats the man on the hat like he’s a child. “And you sure are making me feel something, but it sure as hell isn’t butterflies. So how about you find your momma, since I can only assume you got in here with someone who actually meets the height requirement of an adult, and get the fuck away from us.”

Russ looks as if he has just been clocked by Mike Tyson himself, shock smothering his ability to even respond to what my sweet, yet feral, friend just slapped him with. He huffs, giving the cowboy at our side a dirty look, and with his wounded ego, he turns and leaves, clearly landing on the decision that neither of us are interested in him.

Satisfaction is written all over my best friend’s face until she realizes we’re still in the company of the shaggy, dirty blond cowboy. She looks him up and down before rolling her eyes and letting out a huff.

I’ve noticed a few times now how annoyed she gets whenever a cowboy tries to talk to her. It doesn’t matter how cute or sweet they are, it’s like if they have a cowboy hat and boots on, she’s immediately not interested.

Without hesitation, he ignores her clear disdain and chuckles then says, “I’m Rhett.” He reaches out to shake my hand. I oblige, however Kaylee stares at his hand and chooses to decline, acknowledging his introduction. “So, what brings y’all here? I’m sure that dumbshit wasn’t on tonight’s agenda.”

“Listen, cowboy, we didn’t need any kinda saving, and we sure as shit don’t need you to just replace the last asshole to cross our path. Why don’t you just mind your own business and leave us alone?”

I offer him a soft, apologetic smile. I’ve not asked Kaylee what exactly it is that she has against cowboys, I figure she’ll eventually tell me. But whatever the reason, she hates them as a whole. Apparently so much, that even one going out of his way to help us can’t even sway her opinion.

He gives me an almost determined look, a smirk inching across his face. “Well, ain’t she a firecracker?”

I snicker, silently nodding in response. “To answer your question, I work for Telluride Records, so technically I suppose business is the reason we’re out tonight,” I say. And I don’t know if it’s that I’m grateful for him saving us, or he’s just got such an inviting personality, but I find myself continuing, “I’ll be honest, I’ve yet to be wowed by anyone we have seen since I got the job. Given it’s only been a few weeks, I still have hope I’ll find someone with an extra spark.” I let out another soft laugh, wondering if Nancy spiked my water because I’m just spewing off information to a total stranger.

He grins, a genuine expression never leaving his face since the moment he walked up. “Well, ya want me to make your job easier?”

My stomach flip-flops and I try not to let my lips dip into a frown as I prepare myself for the inevitable awful feeling I’m going to experience when I have to crush his dreams. “Oh no, it’s fine. The right person will come.” I motion around to the room. “After all, we’re in The Westmore, aren’t we?”

His smile waivers, only for a split second while I assume he’s considering how to respond. “Yeah, that’s the problem right there. You’re at the wrong place.”

“Oh, am I?” I raise a brow in question.

“Yeah, ‘course this place is well known, blah blah blah, that’s the problem. Now everyone is fightin’ for a space and not always everyone who goes up there has a…sparklike ya said ya were lookin’ for. Don’t get me wrong, this place is filled with talent, but it ain’t ever filled with somethin’ new.”

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