Page 9 of Until Next Time
She does a little hair flip and pops her hip.
Casey is that sort of obvious beauty that doesn’t even have to try—she has sandy blonde hair, a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and bright green eyes. Her wardrobe consists of the same three pairs of boot cut Levis, one very worn in pair of Blundstones and a wide variety of flannel shirts. Tonight must be an exception though because here she is standing in front of me wearing a forest green sweater dress made of a thick knit material, and black combat boots.
“I thought I’d bring out the big guns for your first night out back home.” She quips.
“Wow, I’m honored.” I dramatically press my hands over my heart.
I decided against my mini skirt and instead I’m wearing my favorite skinny jeans, a white tank top and my trusty leather jacket—which makes me feel bolder than I am, and I figured I could use a little back up courage tonight.
Casey grabs my hand and basically drags me out of my house, “Okay, get in the car and spill the details. I need to know everything.” I laugh, grabbing my purse off the hook and pulling the door closed behind me.
Here we go.
* * *
The whole drive into town was just me, giving Casey the saddest monologue ofwhat is my life. After I spilled all the details, shejust reached over and put her hand on my knee and said, “Sis, it’s their loss. Look at it this way—no matter which way it would have went in the city, you would have been boxed in, one way or another, and you’re a bird. You can’t be boxed in.” A smirk pulls up at the corners of my mouth because River had the same sentiments. As much as these two hate each other—for God knows why—they’re always on the same wavelength.
As much as it hurt to have been rejected like that, I can’t help but wonder if they’re right. I just haven’t landed on my thing yet.
“Ohhh Oh, there’s a spot that opened up right there!” Casey yells, Impressively maneuvering her truck into a spot in between two other cars, which snaps me out of my thoughts. I can’t parallel park to save my life, but Casey is a cowgirl. It seems like she can do anything.
I pull down the visor and slide the mirror open. The small light pops on and I do a once over of my makeup to see if I need any touch ups, or if any tears smudged my eyeliner—which to my delight is still perfectly in tact thanks to waterproof eyeliner and mascara. A gift from the makeup companies for the perpetually emotional woman.
I pull out my favorite mauve lip gloss and swipe that over my lips, slide it back into my purse. I slide the mirror shut, push up the visor and take in a deep breath. Home.
It feels really good to be here.
Casey and I make our way up main street and Roan Mercantile is coming into view. I have that familiar feeling of nervous energy starting to well up in the pit of my stomach—because my body knows I’ll be seeing Dawsen Jones tonight. “Curse you, body. Let me live without being completely wrecked by a dumb boy, please.” Is my internal dialogue.
“Damn. He really did it, didn’t he?!’ Casey says as we approach the Southbound Winery storefront. I look up at the beautiful modern, white sign encased with black steel that’shanging over the sidewalk. The nameSouthbound Wineryis showcased in a modern, all caps typeface, with a small feather floating on top of the words. It’s really striking, fresh and classy even. The exterior of the storefront used to be the original red brick, with a dark cherry wood door, and dated window coverings. Dawsen has completely changed the entire look.
What once was red brick is now a rustic, white washed paint. The dark doors are now expensive looking, light oak with frosted windows, and large iron handles. The windows are now wide open, with beautiful hand painted lettering across.
I feel myself staring at it all for maybe a beat too long, but I’m rendered speechless and we haven’t even stepped into the tasting room yet. Dawsen’s apparent knack for style and design is certainly not helping that nervous feeling. And I can’t help feel a sense of pride well up in my chest—this man has always had a knack for selling himself short, but I’ve always seen how smart and driven he was.
Back in high school when River was “studying,” he was actually just pretending to read Dawsen’s very detailed and thorough notes that he’d make photo copies of for River. Don’t get me wrong, River is smart, he just focused on girls more than anything back in high school.
“It’s so beautiful.” I say to Casey as I’m staring up at the sign. I like it.
“Holy fuck.” I whisper under my breath as we stepped into the winery. I immediately spot Dawsen standing near a table talking to some locals.
Casey gives me a shocked laugh and reaches her arm across me, “HA, I beg your pardon?” I roll my eyes and stamp my foot like a child and lean in and whisper, “He’s wearing those fu—, freaking pants!” She chuckles and gives the backside of my head a tap. “Keep it in your pants, bird.”
I groan.
I need a drink.
Casey saw some people she works with at the ranch sitting at table near the side door, so I gave her a nod, “I’ll get us drinks, you go ahead.”
As I try to maneuver my way through a maze of people to get to the bar at the back of the winery, I’m impressed—this place is definitely pushing the maximum occupancy limits right now.
The tables are all set with moody candles in the centers, surrounded by eucalyptus clippings. The ambiance is mellow, the lighting is warm, and the band is set up in the back corner of the shop playing an acoustic set. This place feels like coming home.
I finally make it to the tasting counter and spot River leaned up against it holding a heavy pour of something that looks an awful lot like whiskey, talking to some smoke show of a blonde. I was going to dodge him, but he spotted me almost immediately. “Birdie!” He shouts over a group of people that separate me from them. Heads turn and I give a nervous smile and wave, then shimmy my way through another small crowd.
I slide up next to him, “What’s in your glass?” He laughs and puts his finger up to his lips signaling me to keep it down, “Don’t give me away like that, bird.” I roll my eyes and punch his arm.
“Daws keeps a bottle of bourbon behind the counter. You know I’m not a big wine drinker.” I roll my eyes at him and bring my attention to the hot blonde, “Hi, I’m so sorry for being rude, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Birdie, River’s little sister. How do you two know each other?”
