Page 36 of Rocky Top

He gave me that grin. The one that could melt asphalt. “Your story. You already know I was Tennessee’s golden boy till my knee blew out. Now I wrangle bikers and fly tourists over the Smokies. Yourmove.”

I snorted, playing with the label on my water bottle. “There ain’t much to tell. I’m not exactly a woman of mystery.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

I took a breath, staring out at the trees. “Alright… I was born in Nashville. My momma was a Sunday school teacher and my daddy sold HVAC units.”

“That all? Sounds like the PG version.”

He was right. “I grew up in a small house with thin walls and a momma who drank too much. Daddy left when I was ten. Said he was goin’ to get gas and never came back. Guess he found a better place to fill up.”

Rocky’s brows drew in just a little, but he didn’t speak.

“I used to think if I could just make people laugh, at school, I’d matter. That if I was bright enough, no one would notice the cracks.”

“You’re not cracked,” he said softly. “You’re being real.”

I smiled at that, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “No secrets unless you count an unhealthy obsession with Dolly Parton and an eye for color palettes.”

He laughed. “Dolly’s a power all her own.”

“Preach. Anyway, I went to college for marketing. Go Vols. Roomed with Eliza. A few years after you. So, yes, I know who you are, Rocky Carter.”

“Who I was,” he interjected with that chip on his shoulder. “After school?”

“I didthe big city thing for a while. New York, Dallas. Bounced around. Tried to climb the corporate ladder. And then… I don’t know. I got tired of being somebody else’s accessory. Got tired of smiling for people who’d stab me in the back for a brand deal.”

His smile faded just a little. “That why you came back to Knoxville?”

“Partly. Eliza was going through it with Mark, and Emma was still real little. I figured she could use me close. Plus, I figured if I was gonna work for jerks, I might as well do it from a porch. I went freelance. Remote. Started taking influencer jobs too.”

I took another sip of sweet tea and stretched my legs out, the warmth of the sun making me feel just a little too honest.

“You know,” I said, picking at the edge of my sandwich wrapper. “I probably spent way too much time swiping on Tinder.”

Rocky looked over, one brow lifted like he wasn’t sure if I was joking or confessing to a crime.

“Swipin’? As in... lookin’ for a hookup or lookin’ for Prince Fucking Charming?” he asked.

“Both,” I said with a sigh.

He gave me a funny look.

“Quit looking at me like I gobbled a thousand cocks.”

His gaze dropped. “It’s not that. Just hearing about you with other guys… Just go on…”

“Some nights I wanted a guy who’d send me good morning texts and ask about my work. Other nights I wanted someone who’d ruin my mascara and forget my middle name.”

That earned a low chuckle from him, but I wasn’t done.

“I dated a guy once who wouldn’t eat food that touched on his plate. Another who asked if I’d be okay with us not having a label cause he was emotionally minimalist. Whatever the hell that means.”

Rocky snorted, nearly choking on his tea. “Emotionally minimalist? Damn. That’s one I ain’t heard before.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I said, rolling my eyes. “There was a vegan drummer who said he could hear people’s auras but still owed me fifty bucks from paying his parking. A married man who said I gave him spiritual clarity whatever that means in adulterer. And a personal trainer who thought foreplay was just stretching before sex.”

Rocky was full-on laughing now, deep and warm, the kind that made my heart thump faster than it should’ve.

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