Four hours later, Roxy stood with Zayne, his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. They’d finally been allowed into the area the twister left in its wake.
Roxy had been silent for several minutes. And even though she knew Zayne was waiting for her to say something, she couldn’t find the words. How could she express the feeling of losing everything she’d worked years to create?
In the rubble that once formed The Tractor Supply Store and her beloved Raeve, an emergency worker’s searchlight landed on a sparkling piece of silver.
Breaking away from Zayne and ignoring the sheriff’s deputy’s request for her to stay clear of the debris until he thought it was safe to walk on, Roxy slowly made her way through what was left of her boutique.
Reaching the illuminated object, she leaned over and plucked it from the surrounding devastation. As if the storm had also destroyed a dam inside her soul, tears flooded her cheeks. Her heart poured out her pain.
Holding up a belt buckle, the first one she’d designed in the Buckles Me Baby Collection, Roxy used her fingers then her soaked shirt to wipe-off the filthy muck covering the precious stones and silver. Turning back to Zayne, seeing FEMA’s spotlights reflecting off his tears, she lost what little strength she had left.
Collapsing into the heap of debris, she pounded her fists against the remains of a display unit once belonging to Raeve.
All her hard work had been blown to bits. Her inventory, gone. Her supplies, gone. Her drawings, gone.
Zayne came to her side, kneeled down and bundled her into his jacket.
She couldn’t feel his or the material’s warmth. She was numb, slowly closing-out the world around her. Looking through the fog swirling in her head, Roxy fought to stay clear of the vacuum desperately trying to trap her inside a never-ending tunnel of despair.
Peep. Peep-peep. Peep. A small, high-pitched peep suddenly reached deep into her subconscious. Refusing to let go. Determined not to let her give-up.
Peep. Peep.
Roxy forced her eyes to focus in the direction of the desperate cry.
A baby chick, shaking its wet fuzz, called for help while trying to take refuge against Roxy’s jeans.
She picked up the trembling critter. Trying to conserve its body heat, she closed her hands around its tiny form.
Although Roxy didn’t see its incubation tub in the rubble nor any of the other dozens of chicks calling the supply store their temporary home, this lucky devil had survived.
“I’m going to call you Lucky,” she whispered into the chick’s soft, fuzzy head. “Do you have room for this little one at the farm, Old McDonald?”
“I think we can take her in,” Zayne said, running his hand over the chick’s head.
He then put both his arms around Roxy and pulled her towards him, resting her head against his chest.
She gazed up into his eyes, basking in the love she saw, knowing that was enough to get her through the storm.
Before she pulled herself together enough to speak, she was surrounded by Kat, Lily, Jules and Audrey. Just the sight of them brought back her tears.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Kat said, brushing strands of matted hair out of Roxy’s eyes.
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Roxy’s mother knelt in front of her, cupping her chin in her hands. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll find a new location. Have you re-opened in no time.”
“Hey, sweetie,” Jules said. “Audrey and I are here as long as you need us.”
Audrey bent down, closing the circle of love, offering no words, just her sweet smile.
• • •
Two days later, the full impact of her loss sinking in, Roxy soaked in her jet tub. She closed her eyes, slipping down into the hot water, resting her head on a spa pillow she’d borrowed from her mother.
She was talked out. The silence surrounding her in her master suite was a welcome refuge from the pandemonium of the last forty-eight hours.
She knew she had decisions to make. Decisions no one could make but her. Although Zayne, The Moms, Jules and Audrey, and even Cody and Damian had each pitched in their suggestions.
For their love and support, Roxy would be eternally grateful. For sanity, however, she’d retreated to her suite.
Concentrating on the smell of her Caribbean therapy bath oil, she relaxed. The intoxicating aromas of peaches, coconut, and vanilla transported her far away from her tub and her troubles.
Submerging her mind under the steamy bath, along with her loofah sponge, Roxy tested the waters of her choices.
She could pack-up and move back to Manhattan. Or she could face the storm and the music of the life she’d made here in Nashville.
She stretched her neck, moving it around her shoulders, seeing how each decision felt. With each twist, turn and pop, she weighed her potential for happiness.
With her country couture belt buckles, Roxy had made Raeve a success. And she could do it again, especially with the designs she’d signed to do for Deena Mettles. Once the CMT talent pool saw her accessories in country music videos and magazines, Raeve would make it to the big leagues.
But where did that leave Zayne?
They’re chemistry was real, both on the dance floor and off, a sweet serendipity Roxy couldn’t defy even if she wanted to. She loved him, and no matter how different their worlds were on the outside, their hearts and feet were in sync.
Her dilemma wasn’t whether or not to pursue their future together. The issue was about the form that future would take based on each of their career decisions.
She pushed-in the button to get the tub jets whirling, letting the sound of the engine stir the water as well as her soul.
Maybe her and Zayne’s timing — personally and professionally — wasn’t as bad as it first appeared.
What’s to say they shouldn’t take a shot at more than their relationship? How about the reality TV venue? Agreeing to do the dance show and taping the episodes at The Neon Cowboy, would certainly help Zayne build a reputation as Nashville’s premier bootscootin’ cowboy. Perhaps it would even give him a following to start his own studio.
‘Course they could only take the gig if and when he decided on the future of his tomato farm.
Focusing on quieting the cloud of emotions tumbling through her heart, Roxy took a deep breath.
At least Zayne knew about the Baudlins’ betrayal and could go to the contest judges with the information. That is, if he wanted to. As of yesterday, he hadn’t made-up his mind how to handle Jack and his father. He’d chosen instead to spend the last two weeks before the contest deadline attempting to salvage his Brandywines.
Roxy pulled the stopper out of the bottom of the tub, draining her sorrows with the bath water. She wrapped her body in a fluffy pink towel.
If success was happiness, she thought, then what was the best way she could merge their worlds? Country music and Manhattan weren’t exactly strangers. There was always honky-tonkin’ in the Big Apple. And she’d brought the Big Apple’s style to Music City USA along with a gorgeous grapevine and beautiful box-step.
Life was meant to be fun, for her and everyone else on the dance floor. It was time Roxy cut her losses and threw her own curves into the mix.