Deacon

As he waited for her, he thought – not for the first time – about how crazy this all was. He'd just met her the day before and that was purely by chance. Or was it? He didn't necessarily believe in things happening for a reason. His life had been too difficult for that. He'd never gotten anything without a lot of hard work. The publishing deal he had had come from a lot of hard work and being persistent and not giving up. He was good at music. That much he knew. He was good at writing songs, and he did well at it. He preferred writing alone, but he'd developed good relationships within the songwriting community and enjoyed writing with others. That was something he'd worked hard at too. He wasn't much for small talk and just hanging out with people. He kept his nose down and didn't try to make waves. He'd learned that growing up.

But now here was this girl – woman, actually – who took his breath away. She was clearly full of life and being in the middle of things and he knew that after knowing her for less than a day. She was the opposite of him in pretty much every way, best he could tell. But the minute he'd looked her in the eyes it was over. He was all in, something that had never happened to him before. He'd been with women before, but nothing had ever been serious. One of his songwriter friends had called him Mr. One and Done, and it was pretty close to the truth. Rayna was different though. There was something about her that seemed to fill in all his open places. When he held her in his arms, when he was deep inside her, he'd felt different. Changed. He was in love. And that thought rocked his world.

There was one thing they shared – music. Singing together the night before had felt good, natural. He didn't know enough about her yet from a personal standpoint, but they both loved music and they loved old country music and they loved a lot of the same artists. He didn't understand why she wasn't a big star. Maybe she just hadn't found her true voice. Once she did, he knew she'd be magical.

Just then he saw her come around the corner and he smiled. She ran to him and he picked her up, swinging her around before putting her back down on the ground. She smiled up at him and then he kissed her, tasting her mouth, letting his tongue chase hers, feeling how good her lips felt against his own. He couldn't wait to get her home.


They made dinner together again that night. The fire had been burning most of the day and he added some wood before joining her in the kitchen. "What should we make?" he asked.

She smiled. "What else do you make that's great?"

He laughed. "I think we already had it all. But I got some fish. You like fish?"

"I don't eat a lot of it, but I like it fine. What kind?"

"Redfish. Really tasty. I usually grill it in the summer, but wintertime I roast it with some vegetables."

"Sounds good. What can I make?"

"Rice?"

"I can make rice." He leaned towards her and kissed her. Then he reached into a cabinet and pulled out a boxed rice mix, handing it to her. She grinned. "How did you know?"

He laughed. "Well, I'd have to use a box too."


After they ate and cleaned up the kitchen, they sat on the couch in front of the fire, and he played some more of his music for her. When he'd finished a song, she was looking at him curiously. "I know you said you've been writing for a long time, but how do you come up with what you're gonna write about? All your songs sound so personal," she said.

"That's 'cause they are," he said. "You ever write songs?" She shook her head. "You ever want to?"

She shrugged. "I've never tried. I didn't really know what to write about."

"Well, you write about what you know. That's what the good songwriters do anyway. We all got stuff and all you gotta do is take the stuff and turn it into lyrics."

She frowned. "I'm thinking it's not quite that simple."

He smiled. "No, you're right, not quite. But the old saying is that songwriting is 3 chords and the truth. You write your truth, whether it's happy or sad or you're hurting or mad. You write about your experience, or, if you're writing with someone else, you might be helping them flesh out their truth."

"How did you get started?"

He set his guitar aside and picked up his notebook. "I started with this. Not this exact notebook, but you know what I mean. I wrote things down. Things that happened, a lyric that might have popped into my head, that kind of thing."

"Like a journal or a diary?"

"I guess like that. Then you can take those things and turn them into songs." He paused. "I heard once that some of the best music comes from the darkest places. It's not all love songs, you know. It's also the pain and the hurt and the anger that can make a great song. Pain can be a gift. I've written a lot from those places."

She looked at him for a long moment. "I don't think I have any stories to write about. Even if I wanted to."

He smiled at her. "I bet you do. Maybe you think you don't, but like I said, we all got stuff." He reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb against her skin. "You also don't gotta write 'em all yourself. A good many of mine are cowrites. You find the right cowriters, it can still work."

She sighed. "I don't even know where I'd start. Plus, I don't know how to play a guitar."

"You don't have to play a guitar."

"And I wouldn't know the first thing about writing the music part."

"You'd learn." He paused. "Do you want to try it?"

She looked at him with what he thought was a hopeful expression. "How would I start?"

"Get you a notebook. I know I got some blank ones and you can have one. Just start writing things down. Your feelings, your thoughts, ideas. Write about things you know. Don't try to write a love song, for example, if you've never been in love."

She smiled. "I can write about falling in love."

He laughed. "Maybe that's a bad example. So don't write about heartbreak if you ain't never had your heart broken."

"Okay, so if I wanted to do this, would you help me?"

"Absolutely."

"So how does it work? If I have an idea, I can run it past you and you can tell me if it would work or not?"

"You can write about anything, Rayna. We can talk about it, and I can give you my thoughts, but it's really up to you and what you want a song to look like."

She sat there for a moment, then sighed. "I'm just not sure I've got anything to write about. I mean, it's like you said, I can't write about something I don't know."

"Well, you could, it just might not come across as authentic." He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. "What if we try to write together? We can write a song about falling in love or something like that."

She turned her head and smiled up at him. "Well, I like that idea. Maybe I can do what you said and write down some thoughts and feelings and show you and we can start from that."

He kissed her on the forehead. "I think that's a great idea." Then he smiled as he pulled her in close again.


Over the next several days he noticed her with the notebook he'd given her. She would be curled up against one end of the couch or, when it was warm enough, she'd sit outside looking out over the ocean. He didn't say anything to her, not wanting her to feel pressured, knowing instinctively that she'd come to him when she was ready. He felt like she probably had more to say than she was giving herself credit for, but he didn't know much about her life. He was sure she came from money, but she didn't really act like it. She liked wearing jeans and his flannel shirts along with thick socks or boots when she had to go outside. They had settled into something that felt comfortable. It had all happened so fast, but he was happy, and he thought she was happy as well. They were comfortable with silences. She had told him that one of her favorite songs was the old Keith Whitley song When You Say Nothing At All and he thought that described the relationship they'd fallen into perfectly. The smile on your face lets me know that you need me / There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me / The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall / You say it best when you say nothing at all. They'd sung it together and he had thought they'd harmonized well together.

He was living the life he'd always hoped for but never thought he'd find. They enjoyed spending time together – walking on the beach, running errands, cooking together but also checking out the restaurants that were open during the winter months. And lots of sex. Lots of really fulfilling and exciting sex. They had not really talked about much more than the present but at some point they would need to, he knew. Maybe she needed to get back to Nashville. He still had his life, but it would definitely be less enjoyable without her.

He was restringing one of his guitars when she came to sit down next to him, putting her notebook in her lap. He looked over at her. She was a beautiful woman who also had that girl next door look to her. Her golden red hair fell appealingly down her back and over her shoulders. The freckles on her nose danced when she laughed. Her eyes were dark, almost as though she had secrets to share. Her smile dazzled. Her legs were long and toned and her breasts were lush and full. She was perfect. "Can I show you what I have?" she asked.

"Sure." He set aside the guitar and reached for the notebook, anxious to see what she'd come up with.

She held it tight. "It's probably terrible, I'm just warning you, so you don't have to be nice. You can tell me the truth."

He laughed a little. "I'm sure it's not terrible." She hesitated, then handed him the notebook. When he opened it, she put her hands over her face. She had a lot of disconnected words, with cross outs here and there. She had a few doodles, as though she'd lost focus or run out of ideas. But there were a couple lines that caught his eye. Til there's no way to know where you end and where I begin and if you were the ocean and I was the sun. If the day made me heavy and gravity won. If I was the red and you were the blue, I could just fade into you. He looked over at her and she was peeking through her hands. "This is good, baby," he said. "It's a really good start."

She lowered her hands. "Really? You're not just being nice?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I would tell you if I thought it wasn't that good. I think you have a very nice way with words."

"I was writing about us."

He smiled. "That's what I thought." He leaned forward, putting the notebook on the coffee table. "We'll work some more on it and figure out the rest of it. I think it's gonna be a really pretty song when we're done." He turned towards her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her deeply. He ran his hands up under her shirt and reached behind her to unfasten her bra. Then he caressed her breasts, rubbing and pulling gently at her nipples until she moaned in his mouth. She moved so she could straddle him, running her fingers through his hair, her kisses growing more insistent. She moved her hips in slow, languorous circles and he responded, his erection hard against her. She was breathing hard, as was he.

She pulled her lips from his, her eyes shaded, and ran her tongue around her lips. "I need you inside me," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. That was all the encouragement he needed. He began undressing her and she was doing the same to him and their clothes were quickly on the floor. He laid her back on the couch and then lowered himself as he entered her. Her legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in even further. They found a rhythm that was powerful and fierce, as she arched herself into him, her breathing getting quicker until she finally stopped, squeezing him as her orgasm overtook her. He felt her tight around him and when she was finished, he thrust himself into her and let himself go.

Her legs slowly dropped to the side, and he moved so that he could cover them with the blanket, turning her so that he could spoon her. They lay together quietly, gazing into the fire, arms and legs tangled up together. He closed his eyes as he held her close, wishing that they could stay like this forever.


It was an unseasonably warm day, just before Thanksgiving, and they were taking advantage of it by walking along the beach. They were headed north and eventually came to the edge of the high-rise beach homes. She stopped and he turned to look at her. "I never noticed before how out of place these houses were," she said. "It was all I knew. We were either here or in town, which we always thought was cute. I remember Tandy and me riding bikes to get ice cream at that place that seemed like it sold everything."

He smiled. That place was now called Waves, but it used to be Avon Mercantile, which made it sound fancier than it was. It had everything from beach gear and casual clothes to some home goods items and counter service. He'd grown up riding his bike up there although his ride would have been longer than hers. "It pretty much did," he said. "You could come up here and park your bike and hit the beach or the pier, spend an afternoon just enjoying the summer. When they started building more of these houses, it changed." It was interesting that she'd referred to it as 'town', since the actual town was a few miles farther north. But it had been one of those between town and nothing kind of areas, so that the people along the southern beach had somewhere to go. He remembered when there had still been a grocery store, a pizza place, a couple doctor's offices, and a post office. The pizza place and the doctor's building were still there, but he didn't know how many doctors were still there. The grocery store and post office had long since moved north. And there was still Waves, although it no longer had the counter service and the non-beach items. "When did you start coming here?"

"I was pretty young, maybe 6 or so? My mom loved the beach. Almost as much as she loved Nashville. So she talked my father into building a house. Actually she would have been fine, I think, with buying an existing house, but my father was not going to buy something when he could build something more ostentatious." She rolled her eyes and then laughed. "I didn't know any better back then, so I loved it. I'd sit on the porch with my pancakes or a sandwich and watch the waves roll in." Her face turned pensive. "Daddy was more, I don't know that fun was the word, but more involved back then and he would take us out in the water sometimes. But then my mom died, and we didn't come back."

"How old were you when your mom died?"

She looked at him and he saw the pain that was still there in her eyes. "12. She was killed in a car accident. Not all that far from home." She looked out over the ocean. "Everything changed then."

"When did you start coming back?"

"A few years ago. I got Daddy to do some updating on it, because it had just sat for a while and needed it. I haven't come often, but it makes me feel a little closer to my mom when I'm here."

"Should I have let you stay in that house?" he asked, suddenly worried she hadn't necessarily wanted to be at his house.

"No, no, not at all. I actually think Mom would have preferred your place anyway." She smiled and after a second, he smiled back. "She really preferred simpler things. It was Daddy who was all about status." She put her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. "I think Mom would have been happy to see me here. With you." He put his arms around her and held her close. Shortly they stepped apart, turned around and headed back.

The wind was blowing in their faces on the walk back. Not too brisk, but enough that her hair was fluttering behind her. He smiled as he glanced at her. "So, I got asked if I could come perform at the Beachcomber Saturday night." He had considered turning it down because he wasn't sure he was ready to share her yet. But he also wanted her to really be part of his whole life.

"What's the Beachcomber?"

"It's a bar in town. They call it a lounge so it sounds better, but it's a bar. A fairly nice one, but a bar just the same. I play sets there every so often. This time of year it's not so crowded, but in the summer it's usually packed." He put his arm around her. "I was thinking maybe you'd get up on stage and sing with me. We could sing that song we wrote."

A smile broke across her face. "I would love to. Plus I'd love to see you on stage." She tilted her head up and he kissed her. "I can't wait!"


Thanksgiving was generally a low-key day. It wasn't a big deal for him. He sometimes went to Beverly's and spent it with his sister and niece, but this year he just wanted to be with Rayna. While Rayna was at her father's beach house calling her sister, he decided to call his own sister.

"Hey Beverly," he said when she answered.

"Hey there baby brother," she said. "What's going on?"

"I just wanted to check in with you since I'm not going to be there for Thanksgiving."

"I wish you'd change your mind. Scarlett's been looking forward to seeing you."

He felt a twinge of regret about that. He loved his niece to pieces and he always tried to see her whenever he could. Beverly's husband Doug had turned out to be a piece of crap and had left her and Scarlett when Scarlett was not even 2, but his sister had stayed strong for her daughter. He knew Doug wasn't a very present father and he tried to fill in when he could. "I'm sorry. I got some things going on and a gig at the Beachcomber, so I'm gonna stay here. I'll try to come out next weekend maybe."

"We'd love to see you. Are you doing okay?" She paused. "I worry about you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. No need to worry." He breathed in. "I, uh, I got a guest here."

"A guest? Like who?"

"Her name's Rayna. I met her on the beach during a storm and, well, she's been here ever since."

There was a silence on the other end. "Do you know anything about her?"

"I know she's from Nashville and she's a singer. She was staying in one of the stilt houses."

"Ah. Sounds like she might come from money."

"I think she does, but she ain't snobby or nothing. She's, uh, Beverly, she's amazing."

"Well, I think when you come see us, you need to bring her with you."

He smiled. "I will."

"Well, happy Thanksgiving, baby brother."

"You too, Bev. Tell Scarlett hey for me." After he hung up the phone, he thought about the idea of taking Rayna to meet Beverly and Scarlett. He wanted to, but he also liked having things just be the two of them. It was like their own little bubble. Just then he heard the truck pull in and he smiled. Rayna was home.

Rayna

The day before Thanksgiving, she drove Deacon's truck up to the Wyatt beach house. He had told her she could call from his phone, but she didn't want to do that. Lamar Wyatt could pay for the call. She let herself into the house and was struck by how silent it was and how empty it felt. Deacon's house was filled with love, and it felt like it was wrapped around her. This felt cold. She shrugged it off and went to the phone in the kitchen. She really needed to get a mobile phone, but she didn't really have the money for one and she didn't want to take money from her father or her sister. She picked up the phone and called Tandy.

"Hey, Tandy," she said when her sister answered.

"Oh my god, Rayna! Why haven't you called me before? I've been so worried about you."

She laughed. "I've been fine. I'm in love and happy."

"How can you possibly be in love? You hardly know this man." She could picture her sister scowling on the other end of the phone. For someone who was not even 30, she often thought Tandy acted like she was 40.

"I know him very well. I've spent every second of the past couple of weeks with him. We're in love."

"Oh dear lord," she heard her sister mumble under her breath. "Okay, so what do you want me to tell Daddy?"

"That I'm at the beach. That I'm not coming back right away. That I'm fine. Tell him whatever you want. He really should be glad I'm not in Nashville trying to make my 'hillbilly music'. Deacon and I are writing together though, so you never know."

"I wish you'd come home, sweetheart. You can't run away from everything. Do you think you'll be home before Christmas?"

She thought about that. "I don't know. Probably not. Deacon doesn't come to Nashville very often, so it's probably going to depend on him." She paused. "Look. I'm really happy. He makes me happy and I make him happy. We're just taking each day as it comes."

Tandy sighed. "Well, I miss you."

"I miss you too. But I'm not ready to come home and I'm not running away from anything. I'm going to stay here as long as Deacon's here. That much I know. Now, happy Thanksgiving and don't eat too much."

She sighed again. "Okay. But stay in touch. Please?"

"I will," she said with a laugh. "Just don't expect it to be real often."

When she hung up, she hugged herself. This had been the best time of her life. From the moment they'd met she'd known Deacon was the person she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. The crazy part of it all was that she knew he felt the same way. He didn't even have to say it, she could just tell. And now all she wanted to do was get back to him, so she left the house, locking it back up, and hurried back to the beach house she was already thinking of as home.


When she walked into the house Deacon was waiting for her. He smiled and pulled her in for an embrace and kiss. "Everything go okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Tandy misses me but I think it's more that she's not thrilled she has to deal with Daddy alone on Thanksgiving."

"I get it. My sister wasn't happy I wasn't coming either."

She rubbed his arm. "We could have, you know. You said she didn't live too far, so I hope you didn't change any plans because of me."

He shook his head. "Nah, I didn't. I'd rather be here with you. Plus I told her maybe we'd come visit soon. I know she and Scarlett would like meeting you."

"I'd love to meet them too." She smiled. "So, what are we doing for Thanksgiving?"

"I thought we could work on my set list and figure out your songs."

"Are you sure about that? Because I know they're just expecting you."

"But they'll be getting something even better." He kissed her nose. "You." She laughed. "I was thinking we could maybe work some more on that other song we been working on, so you'd have 2 at least."

She frowned. "Are you sure we can finish before Saturday?"

"Well, we did the other one pretty quick. Which you're gonna sing lead on, just so you know."

She pretended to be shocked. "But I have stage fright," she said.

He laughed and kissed her hard. "I don't believe you."

She smirked. "You don't know me that well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I think I do." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless. "Don't I?"

She breathed in. "You know the important stuff," she said softly, and he winked at her. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip thinking that every time she thought she couldn't love him more, she did.


She took the notebook from his hands and put it on the floor beside the bed. Then she turned back to him. She put her hand on his cheek and he turned his head to kiss her palm, taking her wrist in his hand. She smiled. "I kinda like writing songs like this," she murmured. "I bet you don't do that with any of your other cowriters."

He chuckled. "No, I sure don't." He leaned towards her and kissed her. "This is reserved for you and you alone."

She sighed. "I know I've said this before, but I really am grateful you found me on the beach that day. It changed my whole life."

His face turned serious. "I'm glad I was standing on the porch. It was like someone just put you there so I could find you. And now everything's changed. It's better."

She put her hand on his chest. "I'm so glad we found each other. I never thought something like this was even possible, that it was only in fairy tales. But it's real." She bit her lip for a second. "I feel like we're on this journey together. A journey we'll be on our whole lives together. That really shouldn't be true. I probably shouldn't trust this feeling that you're the man I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. But I do."

One of the things she loved about him was that all his emotions played out on his face. His eyes especially could tell a tale of sorrow, happiness, gratitude, and love. Sometimes one by one, other times 2 or more at a time. She could see that his emotions matched her own. It felt gratifying and validating to know they were in sync. They had both recognized and appreciated the gift they'd been given. He put his palm against her cheek, then moved it to smooth back her hair as he leaned in and gently kissed her. "I don't know why I got this lucky," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Things don't often go right for me, but this did." A smile crossed his face. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

He put his arm around her, pulling her close to him and then he rolled her onto her back, and she smiled. These were really the best days of her life.


They had had spaghetti and salad for Thanksgiving dinner, far from the traditional fare they each would have had otherwise. They laughed about it being unconventional, but decided they liked it better. After cleaning up they curled up on the couch. He had his notebook and a pencil. "We need to figure out a set list," he said.

She turned her head to look at him. "We? I thought I only had 1 song."

"2 now, remember?"

"Okay, 2 songs," she said with a grin.

"But you're my backup singer, so we gotta figure out the set list so we can practice. I need you to harmonize with me." He kissed her cheek. "Or maybe you can take lead on some."

"No, no, Deacon. That wouldn't be right. These are your songs and you should sing them. I'm happy to harmonize, but they're expecting you to sing."

"Baby, once they hear you sing lead, they won't care if I sing."

She was uncertain. Yeah, she'd gotten a record deal, but nothing had come of it. Most all the labels in Nashville ultimately told her she wasn't what they were looking for and that she wouldn't make it. "Well, maybe. I guess we can just see what happens."

"I know the Beachcomber in a small beach town isn't the big stage, but if we keep writing songs like Fade Into You and I Shouldn't Love You, I think you could go back and be a star."

She smiled at him, but her confidence had been rattled by her experience. She knew he thought she was great, but it hadn't seemed like other people did. The people who could actually make her a star. She had felt like such a failure, although she tried not to let it show, and she thought the people in her life would have preferred she let go of the dream anyway. Hence the visit to the beach. Deacon was making her feel like things were possible, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to go back to Nashville anymore. "Maybe," she said. "Right now I'm happy where I am."

He smiled. "I like having you here too. So, let's figure this out." He started to write down a list of songs and they spent a good amount of time going over the list and organizing and reorganizing. When he was satisfied, he got up to get his guitar and they started to practice.


She took a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair, breaking up the waves she'd added with a curling iron. She wore jeans and a sweater since the weather had turned chilly on Thanksgiving. She'd never had the occasion to have a real headliner type wardrobe, but she'd always imagined she'd wear sparkly dresses and sexy tops and skintight pants and stilettos instead of the boots she was wearing. She still held out some hope that it would be in the cards for her one day, but the reality of that happening felt like it was fading. She did love singing in clubs, so she was excited to be performing with Deacon at the Beachcomber. Satisfied with how she looked, she walked out to the great room where he was waiting for her.

He whistled when he saw her and then grinned as she held her arms out at shoulder level and made a 360 turn before walking up to him and giving him a quick kiss. "Thank you, thank you," she said with a smile.

"You look amazing," he said.

She laughed. "In jeans and a sweater? I wish it were fancier, but I didn't bring any fancy clothes with me."

"Well, you look perfect for the Beachcomber."

She put her hand on his chest and he kissed her. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. She thought he looked quite handsome in his normal flannel shirt and jeans outfit. She still melted a little inside every time she looked at him, with his crystal clear blue eyes, his scruffy beard, and his perfect slightly shaggy hair. He had a smile that could be warm, sexy, teasing, and happy, sometimes all at once.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded. "I'm a little nervous."

He frowned. "Why? It's just a small bar, there won't be a lot of people, and you won't be alone. Plus you're gonna be great on that stage, small that it is."

She shrugged. "It's been a little while since I've done this."

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "It's gonna be fine. Don't worry." He let her go, then picked up his guitar, and they headed for his truck.


When they pulled into the parking lot of the Beachcomber, she could see it looked kind of like a beach shack, the wood siding appropriately weathered and a glass door with a palm tree painted on it. The parking lot was far from full, but there were more cars and trucks than she'd expected. Once they were inside, she was surprised it was larger than it appeared outside. It had a long bar with seating and tables around the space surrounding the stage. It was a proper stage too and looked like it had all the lighting and equipment she was used to.

"Wow," she said as she looked around. "Somehow this wasn't what I expected."

He grinned. "What did you expect?"

"A real hole in the wall, I guess. Not this big."

"It's an interesting set up," he said. "It's one of the better live music clubs here. Owned by musicians for musicians. So, a really great place to come to hear a wide variety of music."

She looked at him. "Are you an owner?"

He nodded. "I am. Been one ever since I came back here."

"So you're a big shot, eh?"

He laughed. "Not hardly." He nodded towards the stage. "Let's get set up." As they walked to the stage at the back of the bar, most people called out to him, greeting him warmly. She was surely learning more about him every day.

On the stage were 2 bar stools and 2 mics, one in front of each stool. "Are we sitting?" she asked.

"I thought we would. That okay?" She nodded. "When you do lead you can get up if you want." He got his guitar out of the case and sat on the stool, giving it a few fingers across the strings as people started to settle in. He leaned towards her. "When's the last time you did a place like this?"

She thought about that. "I'm not sure. Early fall probably." She made a face. "Around the time Belcourt dropped me."

He scoffed. "Their loss." Just then someone walked up onto the stage. "Hey Colin," he said. He gestured towards her. "Colin, this is Rayna. She's been staying with me for a bit and she's a singer, so I brought her along." He looked at her. "Rayna, this is Colin. He runs this establishment."

She smiled at Colin, who looked like he was probably in his 50's, around her father's age. He had light brown hair and a full beard and moustache, all generously sprinkled with gray, and eyes that looked like they were smiling. He reached out and took her hand, patting it with the other. "Hey Colin. Nice to meet you."

Colin nodded. "You too, Rayna. We're glad to have you at the Beachcomber with Deacon." He glanced out at the crowd. "Not a huge crowd since it's the holiday, but seeing as it's Deacon, we got more tonight than normal for this time of year. He's a favorite around these parts."

She smiled. "I'm not surprised." She reached out and gently squeezed Deacon's forearm.

Colin turned around then, talking into Deacon's mic. "Hey y'all. Thanks for coming out tonight." There was a smattering of applause. "We got a good show for you. One of our regulars, Deacon Claybourne." The applause was louder and enthusiastic. "And he brought someone new I'll let him tell you about." He stood back and gestured towards them. "Deacon Claybourne!"

She smiled at the crowd as he took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. "Glad to see y'all out tonight on a Thanksgiving weekend. Hope everyone had a good one." Applause followed. "So, like Colin said, I brought someone with me tonight." He glanced at her. "Her name is Rayna Jaymes and she's straight from Nashville. Y'all ain't heard about her yet, but you're in for a real treat, getting to see her before she hits the big stage." There was an enthusiastic response that warmed her heart, along with Deacon's introduction. She started to feel more relaxed.


On her way to the restroom, she thought about the evening. It had been fun. She hadn't sung in front of people in a while but hearing the enthusiastic response from the fairly small crowd was rewarding. She'd felt comfortable on the stage, singing with Deacon, and then singing the songs they'd written together. She thought she could probably be happy doing that with him for a long time.


She walked out of the bathroom stall and saw that there was another woman washing her hands. When she glanced in the mirror, she could tell the other woman was a server or something. The woman grabbed a couple paper towels and then she reached across, grabbing a couple for herself. The woman turned to her then and she noticed the nametag that said 'Lauren'.

"I just want to tell you that I've never seen Deacon so happy and relaxed before. I'm guessing you're the reason for that," the woman with the Lauren nametag said.

"What?" Not that it was a bad comment, but it was so out of the blue.

"I've known him for most of my life and he's always been really pulled inside himself. Quiet, introspective even. He never laughed a lot and kept to himself most of the time. Even with people he knew. He comes here a lot and that hadn't changed. Until tonight."

"That's good then. Right?"

"Yeah, it is." She tossed her paper towels in the trash. "Hope it stays that way. For his sake." Then she left the bathroom.

She, of course, hadn't known Deacon for long, didn't know how he was when he wasn't with her. He'd told her some things, so what this Lauren person said made some sense, but it surprised her that it was being remarked upon. She finished drying her hands and went back out into the bar. She was still on a high from the amazing night, feeling right at home. She decided to wait to ask Deacon about the comments. And about Lauren.


They were almost back to Deacon's house when decided to ask about the bathroom conversation. "I had an interesting conversation in the bathroom tonight." He just looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Someone named Lauren. A server there, I guess."

"Bartender."

"Okay. Well, she told me she thought you looked happier and more relaxed than she'd ever seen you."

"Huh." They had reached the house and when he turned in, he parked. He turned to her then. "You know, she's right. I do feel happier than I been in a long time, maybe ever." He looked at her intently. "You make me happier. You make me wanna do more."

"I'm glad if I help."

He leaned towards her. "Baby, it's more than help. It's everything. As crazy as this sounds, having you come into my life has changed it for the better. It's hard to believe we ain't even known each other 3 weeks and you've changed everything." He took a deep breath. "I hope I don't scare you off when I tell you this, but I love you, Rayna. I really love you."

She took a sharp breath in, then smiled before leaning over and kissing him. "I'm not scared off at all," she whispered when she let him go. "I love you too." She could feel tears on her cheeks and even in the moonlit sky she could see tears in his eyes. She swallowed and let out a laugh. "I love you so much." He kissed her again, a deep kiss, and then they got out of his truck and, after he grabbed her hand, they hurried into the house and straight to his bedroom.


He was holding her in his arms, and she was running her finger over his chest. "So, who's Lauren?" she asked.

He turned his head and looked at her. "Why?"

"Well, it sounded like she knew you pretty well. Said she'd known you most of your life. Were you friends? Or was she a girlfriend?"

He didn't say anything at first. Then he sighed. "She lived here too, growing up. Lived north of town in one of the nicer houses. We were the same age, went to school together. I went out with her a couple times, but it wasn't any big deal. She really didn't mix much with us on the south end."

"Who broke it off?"

He laughed a little. "Me. Not that it was a real break up or nothing. It wasn't long after that I left town."

"And came to Nashville."

"And came to Nashville." He looked at her again. "She ain't like the one that got away or nothing. We were pretty different, from different places, wanted different things."

"And yet she's a bartender at a lounge."

He shrugged. "I don't know the story of that. I thought she was planning to go away to college, but I think at some point she got married and then divorced. And she's here. I never asked." He looked at her intently. "You aren't worried, are you?"

She shook her head. "No. Just wondering about her. She seemed to be glad you were happy. And hoped it continued."

He leaned down and kissed her, letting his hand run down her arm. "Like I said, I am happy. And I want it to continue too."