Rocked & Romanced, page 39
Slowly, Mike and Lilly have earned her trust back, but she was the starter of almost a dozen horses left the same way the last year. One of the horses was pregnant.
While we have been lucky and only lost one of them, all the others have survived. It raised a lot of questions, like why they were being dropped off in Rock Springs, and why are they still alive?
The state troopers said normally these rings are full of gamblers, and when they are done with the horse that they have stolen, they shoot them and are found in a ditch, if at all.
There have been no leads, until recently Abby's husband, Greg, the town pastor, worked with the state troopers on a sting operation and caught one of the guys dropping the horses off. Unfortunately, they didn't learn much of anything from him, because he still isn't talking. All he says is he's following orders.
"What did they find out?" I ask.
"While the horses are being dropped off here, and apparently, the operation is in Dallas. It's not the normal illegal rodeo the cops thought it was. That's all they will say, as they don't want to leak too much and risk losing their lead," Lilly says.
"Didn't Sage say Kelli was working with them? I wonder if she was the one who uncovered this?" Savannah asks.
"Wait. Kelli was working with the state troopers?" Mike asks.
"Apparently, she was seducing some of the new ranch hands to see what they knew, but didn't say if she found anything out," Lilly confirms.
"Damn, that girl might have a sliver of good in her after all." My dad says.
My parents are no strangers to all the bullshit Kelli has pulled around town. From sleeping with married men, seducing truckers passing though, causing drama between Sage and Colt, and just being a downright mean bully. I don't think anyone expected her to lift a finger to help anyone.
"Well, here's to hoping they put this to rest soon." We all drink to that, before settling around the fireplace listening to Christmas music.
"Any plans for your anniversary?" I ask Mike.
Mike proposed on Christmas day last year, and they had a really quick wedding here on the ranch because they wanted to be married by the New Year.
"I have a plan, but it's a secret," Mike smirks at Lilly, who pretends to be annoyed.
"What about you sister? What are you thinking about your wedding?" Lilly asks.
Savannah looks at me.
"Whatever you want, I'm down for, just prefer it sooner rather than later," I tell her.
"I was thinking spring on the ranch. Lots of tents, inviting the whole town, Landon and Dallas, along with a few of my friends from Nashville, and asking everywhere to make a charity donation, instead of gifts. My dream would be for Landon and Dallas to perform for our first dance. It would be nice, if the vibe was relaxed, and everyone from the town enjoyed hanging out together for the day and having a good time."
"That's perfect," I tell her.
"Looks like we have some planning to do." The girls and their moms jump up and head down the hall. I’m sure they’re getting online and looking at all the possibilities.
I couldn't imagine a better Christmas.
Epilogue
Brice
I'm leaving the diner with my regular caffeine boost of coffee in my hand when Savannah opens the door. Seeing I’m on my way out, and she holds the door open for me.
I tip my hat in thanks, wishing I could stay and talk to her, but I'm already late opening the doctor’s office today. Without a doubt, I know my first patient will be waiting on me.
As I'm opening the lid of my coffee tumbler Jo just refilled for me, I bump into someone. Judging by the sky high heels she’s wearing, she isn't from around here.
My eyes travel up her long, tan legs to the skirt and business suit jacket that shows a hint of cleavage. Her blonde hair is perfectly in place. In short, she's a city girl.
"You should get yourself a pair of boots. You will break an ankle around here in those things." I tell her, though I’m not sure why.
When people come in from the city, I've learned to avoid them, unless they come into my office. Normally, they come in with an injury that could have been avoided with the right clothes or footwear.
"Thanks, but I’m just in town to talk to the owners of WJ's." She points to the bar across the street. "Any idea when it opens?"
Everyone in town knows Jason and his chef, Nick, who own the bar. I don't know her, and no one inside will give her any information either. We don't talk to outsiders.
This is a rule I abide by as well, so I'm not sure why I say what I say next.
"Anytime now. Jason's wife cuts hair at the beauty salon. He likes to come in early with her, so he might be down there." I point behind her down the street.
"I'm happy to tell him you are looking for him, Miss..."
"Kayla." She says her name but offers nothing more.
"The diner here has some good food, while you wait for him," I suggest.
"No, this is business." She shakes her head, even as she looks through the window next to us.
The same window I'm sure half the downtown is watching our every move through.
"Okay, city girl. You be careful." I tip my head and walk over to my truck. Only when I open my truck door, do I look back to find her watching me.
I don't know why this girl caught my attention, but part of me hopes she's in town for a bit. She seems like she will be a lot of fun.
Don’t miss Brice and Kayla’s story in The Cowboy and His Billionaire!
Make sure you get your free Rock Springs Novella as well!
https://www.kacirose.com/SageandColt
Stay With Me Now
By Kaci Rose
Copyright
Copyright © 2020, by Kaci Rose. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Blurb
If you had the chance to go back in time and change everything, would you?
I did.
I met the right guy at the wrong time.
He's the biggest name in Rock and Roll.
But his history is written, and it doesn’t include me.
Or does it?
The problem? I know the day he dies. And it’s fast approaching.
Dedication
To those we love but are separated from by time and distance.
Chapter 1
Ivy
When I woke up this morning, it was the year 2009…but I am currently standing in 1957 Nashville.
I must be going crazy.
I think back to this morning’s coffee...
My best friend, Brian, is kind of a geek, and he’s also my roommate. He is crazy smart, but his passion is time travel. I wrote it off as one of his quirks. Until this very minute, anyway.
Over my morning coffee, he said he found what he calls a time door. I’m not a morning person, so I kind of zoned out as he explained the geeky stuff about this door.
I do remember he said it should take me back roughly fifty to sixty years. Well, fifty-two years was about right if I am to believe the newspaper I just saw.
Even when I didn’t believe half of what he was saying, I have always been supportive of him. It’s just what friends do. So, the whole conversation this morning didn’t come off as weird to me, but looking back, oh, what I would’ve done differently.
“Hey, Ivy, I did it!” Brian called as he came rushing into the kitchen.
As I said, I am so not a morning person, so all I did was look at him over the rim of my coffee cup.
He rolled his eyes at me. “The time door! I found it and know how to use it!”
I think I mumbled something like, “That’s great, Brian.”
I didn’t really believe him, but if he believed it, what did it harm? Well, me, apparently.
He went on to explain how it works. I wasn’t fully listening, but I did hear that you needed some sort of stone he was super excited about, and the fact we have a bunch of them in our backyard means I guess they’re not that rare.
Then came the part I should have fought harder on.
“You will test it for me, right?” he asked.
“Brian, why can’t you do it? It’s your baby.”
“Because if something goes wrong, I have to be here.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically.
He did have fun dressing me up in 1950s clothes. I felt like a life-size doll, and the clothes were nothing like I would ever wear in 2009. I’m a yoga pants and T-shirt girl around the house and jeans and shirt girl out and about.
So I thought he was just having fun getting me to wear something a bit fancier. I mean, we’re talking high-waisted white shorts that thankfully were at a reasonable length for me. I can’t stand how short the shorts are nowadays. Maybe I’m more old-fashioned than I thought.
He dressed me in a T-shirt that was a pretty shade of blue and some flats. Then I started fighting him when he went for my hair. My hair is long and deep brown in color, and I tend to wear it down either straight or with some beachy curls to it. I don’t do much.
But the 1950s hairstyles? I’d never be able to recreate them myself! I wanted to go for simple, so we spent a good half hour scrolling the internet until we found a photo of Racheal McAdams with her hair half up in pin curls and just some simple curls at the bottom.
I didn’t look like myself or even feel like myself, for that matter, but Brian has always been there for me. I’ve supported him in everything he’s ever done—from coming out and telling his parents he’s gay down to this crazy time travel stuff—so I wasn’t going to stop now.
I watch Brian load my pocketbook with ten tiny stones.
“You should only need two stones, but I want to be on the safe side. I also put money printed in 1951 in there for hotels, food, and whatever else you need.” He hands me the purse.
Nodding, I remember thinking he was sure getting into it this time, and then we were off.
We live just outside Nashville in a quiet area, but a few blocks away is a huge house that has been turned into a museum. My house is one of four on the street, and there are over twenty empty lots, so it’s kind of secluded.
We walk to the end of the street, where a bunch of huge rocks make a circle. Many of the rocks are over six feet tall, and some are over two feet wide. They surround an almost ten-foot-wide area so dense you can’t see through to the other side. It looks out of place, for sure, but I always thought it was a dumping ground when they built some of the buildings on the street, so I never really questioned it.
Brian swears this is where the door is, so I follow him onto the lot. We move around a few rocks, and what looks like a narrow path to the center opens. The area can’t be seen from the street or any nearby areas, and I feel kind of weird being here. Then I start to feel it… a hum on my skin. It wasn’t a noise, but a feeling.
Brian then gives me the details.
“Okay, you can’t stay longer than two weeks because we can’t take any chances that you might change history. But you need to stay at least forty-eight hours to give your body time to adjust before you come back.”
I nod my head, though I’m partly distracted by the humming.
“Take in as much as you can but stay to the shadows and don’t get involved in anything. Don’t bring anything back that could change history. Oh, and you will have to come back via this spot. Got it?” he asks.
I just nod again.
If I believed this would work, I would have been nervous. I should have been nervous.
He keeps reminding me I’ve heard him talk about all this for years so there is no one else he would trust. Then he encourages me to touch one of the bigger rocks. I walk toward the rock, and I’m both relieved and disappointed when nothing happens.
But the closer I get to the rock, the stronger the humming feeling on my skin gets, and I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not. When I’m just a hand span away from it, my skin feels like it’s crawling. I think maybe I had too much coffee. I did have a few extra cups this morning. That must be what the buzzing through my veins is. Yup. That’s it. But when I look back at Brian, he’s so excited, like a kid at Christmas. And without thinking, I reach out and touch the damn rock.
Holy hell. I’ve never done drugs, but I would guess what happened next is what an acid trip would feel like. It lasted maybe two seconds, but at first, something was pulling me from the front, then a second later, something was pushing me from behind, and then I was weightless. There were so many colors, but everything was dimmed and blurry as though I couldn’t focus on anything.
Then I felt one last huge push and landed on the ground right in front of the rock.
“Brian?” I call out frantically, looking around for him after that weird experience. But there was no Brian. Cursing him to hell because I thought he walked away, I started making my way back to the street. But the paved streets were now dirt. There were no houses, and it was eerily quiet.
Did it actually work?
Cars sound behind me, so I walk in the complete opposite direction of where my house is, or was, or would be.
I walk a few minutes out to some road I vaguely recognize. It should have been all built up with stores and restaurants, but there’s barely anything there. The cars are all wrong, as though I was touring a vintage car museum. I stand there looking at all the older cars and realize that Brian freaking did it!
I stood there for a good five minutes in shock. Not one person walked by me or even paid me any attention as I just stared around me. I had no idea which way to go, so I walked to the corner where there was a little stand and looked at the date on the newspaper.
July 21, 1957.
I was in 1957 Nashville.
So, here I am. Standing on that corner, I’m just looking around in shock, wondering what I’m going to do. Thankfully, Brian gave me some money from this time, or I’d be in a lot of trouble.
I start walking to see what I can find. I figure I have to take in the city anyway, and I have at least forty-eight hours to explore. I know downtown has a bunch of hotels, so I figure I should head that way. As I walk up the street, I realize there should be a huge museum here. That David Miller, a famous singer in the fifties and sixties, has a house in this area.
He died young, in the late sixties, I think it was. From what I remember, he had a heart attack caused by his drug use. His house was turned into a museum and is one of the most visited homes in the country—well, in 2009 anyway.
I’m walking on the opposite side of the road from the famous house, and I stop when I get in front of it and admire it. There it is—Ivy Hill. This is the house I was named after. I always loved this house from when Brian and I toured it. Seeing it now makes me forget everything that just happened. How I need to find a place to stay and any concern about whether I’ll make it home are forgotten. I’m drawn to this house in a way I can’t describe.
It takes me a minute to shake out of my daydream when I see someone crossing the street.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” a male voice asks.
Pasting on a smile, I look over at the gentleman. He’s in slacks and a polo shirt, but the shirt stretches across his muscular body. I keep looking up, and my smile falters.
Not because he isn’t handsome, but because he takes my breath away as I stare into the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen. He has dark black hair swept back into a classic style for the time and a strong jawline. I’m about eye level with his chin, so I have to look up a bit to see his eyes.
The look in his eyes is intense, and my heart skips a beat as he holds my gaze.
David Miller is staring at me. One look like that from the soon-to-be American heartthrob and playboy, and it’s no wonder women fell to his feet.
He reaches out to touch my upper arm, trying to get my attention again. “Ma’am, are you lost? You look a little confused.”
His voice makes my core clench in a way I’ve never experienced before. Then the fog starts to clear, and I realize I need to watch what I say. I’d sound like a crazy lady if I told him I’d never been here before because I just traveled from 2009.
I let out a small laugh. “Maybe I am a little bit. I was walking along thinking when I saw the house, and it just drew me in. It’s beautiful. Is it yours?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He smiles proudly at me. “Yes, ma’am, just bought it two months ago.” He looks me up and down with appreciation in his eyes. I go to shift my weight to put some space between us and wobble a bit on the uneven ground. He catches me by my arm, and I can see the worry on his face. “Are you alright? Would you like to come in for a glass of water and sit down for a minute?” he asks.
I have to fight not to let my jaw drop. The opportunity to see the famous home I was named after before it looks like how everyone knows it now? My parents were both huge David Miller fans, and they named me Ivy after his home “Ivy Hill.”
In the back of my mind, I know he’s probably only asking me inside to get into my pants, but it’s Ivy Hill. How can I pass up this chance?
With a smile, I say, “That would be nice. I bet it’s just as beautiful inside as it is outside.”
