The barn we use for events is dressed up like an absolute dream. Lanterns hang from the rafters, strung between wooden beams and swaying gently in the warm night air. The music’salready playing thanks to the local band we hire to really make these nights feel special.
The song is twangy and upbeat, with a banjo and a kick drum that you feel in your ribs. Laughter and light conversation rolls through the yard in bursts, and the smell—damn. Hickory smoke from the fire, mesquite from the grill, fresh hay, and that little undercurrent of horse that never quite leaves a place like this.
The best part of tonight is that I get to share it with Roxanne, who has her own glow about her, even when I wipe a bit of barbecue sauce off her cheek from the ribs she’s devouring. I love that she gets animated when she’s telling her travel stories. Toward the end of dinner, she has the table rolling over another trip of hers.
“There was this gala in Monaco I crashed with a borrowed press pass. I was trying to interview this royal environmentalist, and as I was walking in, my heel breaks and I trip, full-on face plant, right in front of him. He helped me up, we laughed, and he gave me an exclusive interview in exchange for getting to name the article. We ended up calling it ‘Falling for the Planet.’”
I sit back and watch her, and thankfully, she’s too involved in the conversation to notice. This is not the same woman who stepped off the golf cart and fell into the horse trough that first day. That woman was closed off, hurting, and hiding. The woman sitting next to me has her scar on full display and is slugging beer like it’s second nature.
Once we finish dinner, she leans into me. “When do we start dancing?”
Topper puts his hand up from across the table. “No one touches the dance floor until Faraday does his toast.”
“Toast?” Roxanne asks.
“Yup,” Georgia adds. “It’s tradition. Faraday gives his special toast and then we can get to the bootscootin’.”
“Come on, Faraday,” Topper says. “What have you got for us this time?”
I’ve made dozens of these toasts over the years, and I’ve never been nervous, but I’m starting to sweat when I feel Roxanne’s bright blue eyes on me as I stand and raise my beer.
“All right, all right,” I say. I clear my throat and gather my thoughts. “I’ve seen a lot of storms. So have most of you. Some of us came here to outrun them. Others to face what was left after. One way or another, we all ended up in the same place. So, here’s to second chances, however they find us. To healing, however slow it comes, and to the people who show up out of nowhere and somehow make us glad we didn’t give up too soon.”
Everyone raises their glasses getting ready to toast.
When my gaze falls to Roxanne and I look at her longer than I mean to, the corner of her mouth tugs up.
She knows.
The music starts to roar again, and everyone leaves the table, taking their drinks to the dance floor. Georgia and Rusty start moving into the crowd as Topper tries to tug Allie out on the floor. The second I step down on the dance floor, the music changes, and before I can even get my bearings, Roxanne grabs the bottle, takes a swig, and hands it back to me.
“Hold this,” she says with a grin.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching her back away with that look in her eyes.
“Showing you how to dance. Since I had to show you how to fish, I thought you might need a lesson here, too.”
She turns on her heel, marches toward the packed dance floor, and falls into line with the rest of the group. She immediately finds her rhythm with sharp steps, boot kicks, and hip pops that hit every damn beat. Watching her line dance in a white dress and cowgirl boots is going to haunt me in the best possible way.
Topper slides up next to me, arms crossed, nodding toward the crowd. “Did you know she could do that?”
“Nope.”
“You gonna make it?”
“Nope.”
He laughs and slaps me on the back.
“You’re in way too deep, Faraday.”
“I was in deep the second she got here, I just didn’t know it yet.”
Roxanne glances over her shoulder mid-step and winks at me—like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me and she’s not sorry about it. When the music changes again, more couples make their way to the floor. Roxanne doesn’t have to fetch me from the sidelines like some of the other ladies do, I’m already at her side. I take her in my arms, twirling and dipping her.
When I pull her back up to me, her eyes and mouth are wide. “You can sing, you can dance … are you sure you don’t have a future on Broadway?” she asks as I twirl her again.
“You never know.Mountain Man, the musical? Does that sound right?”
