Page 12 of Freeing the Wild
“He thinks he’s a modern-day Bruce Springsteen,” she adds.“Which is fine, and I mean, he isn’t bad to look at, but I’ve heard from those with firsthand experiences that he most certainly will ask you to spank him and tell him he’s a bad boy behind closed doors.”
“Holy hell, things have changed since our day,” my mama chuckles, nudging Wade and Cole’s mama, Jo, who’s just joined us after her unfinished projects club at the seniors’ center.
“The weird shit that goes on these days makes me grateful I had a long happy marriage with a man who knew how to behave,” Jo responds with a wink.
I tip my head back and laugh as I swallow the rest of my bourbon.Every single person in this family is incredible.One day, when I’m done conquering the world, I’d like to end up somewhere just like this.I let out a contented sigh as the sun is just thinking about setting.
Rising from my chair, I fluff my hair around my shoulders.
“Well ladies, it’s been nice, but I’m late to meet my stand-in band member.”I wrap an arm around Ivy and then turn to Ginger.“Thank you for the lowdown.I’ll avoid red bandanas like the plague.”
I bend down to kiss my niece on the top of her head in Ivy’s arms.After we took a little nap together this afternoon on Ivy’s sofa, it feels as though we’ve become great friends.When I have more time off, I’ll be back here and we’ll get up to all kinds of trouble together.
“Wish me luck,” I say.
“I’m not wishing my daughter luck to meet a one-night stand,” my mama giggles.
“I’ll wish you luck, darlin’,” Mama Jo quips as my mom nudges her with an elbow.“Break hearts, not the law.”She smiles.
Jo might be the coolest sixty-year-old I’ve ever met, and she’s a damn good influence on my mama too.I head inside Wade and Ivy’s to grab my purse and the keys to Ivy’s truck and say goodbye to the boys now sitting on Wade’s sofa watching baseball.
“Don’t wait up!”I call as I breeze by the girls again.I smile to myself as I climb into Ivy’s truck.They look like a little country gang out there as the sun sets.The Real Housewives of Kentucky.
Cruising down the ranch’s long gravel drive, I turn the local country station up.As if the music gods know where I am, they’re playing “Slow Burn” by Kacey Musgraves.I sing along with a smile on my face as I roll down the windows and let my hair fly loose in the early fall breeze.
Alright, Laurel Creek.Let’s see what your fine town has to offer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cassie
“Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to stand in this weekend,” Darcy, my new bass player, says from across our table at the Horse and Barrel.He’s a big, burly kind of guy with deep brown skin, long dark hair, thick black glasses and a friendly smile.And best of all, he doesn’t have a hankering for whiskey like Josh did.We’ve been going over my six-song set list that will open the Red Dirt Roots show this weekend.
“Well, Dax said you were the best.And, I have to say, after watching your clips, I agree.How come you haven’t hooked up with anyone permanently?”I ask as I sip my house-made sangria.For a little local pub, it’s damned good.
“We had a baby and I took almost a year off to be with my wife,” he gushes as he turns his phone toward me and shows me a little onyx-haired toddler with dimples and big brown eyes.“I was playing with J.R.Carroll and even played with Ryker Grimes before he hit the big time, but this little angel makes giving that up worth it.”
“She’s so sweet,” I say back, wondering if there will ever be a day I’m in a place to have a family of my own.Right now,I can’t even imagine a life like that.I glance around and take in the scene in the bar.The Horse and Barrel isn’t very big, but it’s a vibe for sure.Fairy lights hang from the ceiling to create a canopy of multicolored accent lighting.Each table has a small flickering tealight candle placed in the center, and Jack Daniel’s bottles hang from the wall as makeshift, barely there, sconces.The bar we’re sitting at is thick and long, running almost the entire span of the west wall, with a good-sized, framed photo of a Dallas Stars Stanley Cup victory front and center, next to a neon tiger mid-pounce.
When we first arrived an hour ago, it was pretty much dead.But now the tables are full and the crowd is so thick it’s almost hard to see through it.I guess this sleepy little town doesn’t come alive until after nine p.m.Darcy takes the final swig of his Bud Light and stands.I know from earlier in the conversation that he lives the next county over on a little plot of land.
“Well, if we’re all done here, I need to get back.The wife and I are knee-deep in a show we like to watch after Zara goes to sleep, but I’ll be ready tomorrow for our rehearsal …”
I know he’s still talking, but I don’t catch the end of his sentence.Because the ding of the front door catches my attention and my mouth falls open as Mr.Wrangler himself, Haden, walks through it.
He’s instantly the hottest man in this place.And I know because I’ve been scoping out the room for the last hour.He’s wearing another pair of those perfectly fitted Wranglers and a black Carhartt t-shirt that hugs the tanned, inked muscles of his upper arms.A clean black cowboy hat finishes his look, and I remember how good he smelled as I watch him work his way through the crowd.He has a different air about him than when I saw him this afternoon.He’s relaxed, and smiling at everyone he passes.So this is the side of him Ivy described?Easy, charming and full of charisma.That’s what it is.Thiscowboy has charisma.
“Cassie?”
“Huh?”I come back to Darcy and our conversation.
“Where’d you go there?”he chuckles.
I smile at him.“Sorry, I thought I knew someone.”
“That’s the trouble with small towns.Everyone is familiar.”He picks up his tattered fedora off the barstool and places it on his head.“So, four o’clock tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
