Page 50 of Where the Music Grows

“We can take leftovers home,” I offer.

“For Aggie,” she agrees quickly. “And half of town.”

We both start laughing, maybe a little too loud, considering the looks from nearby tables. Jinnie tries to compose herself, but every time she looks at the plate, she snorts.

Somehow, that’s the moment I realize I’m in trouble. Because laughing with her feels as natural as playing guitar, as easy as breathing. I know I’m only eighteen, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like this. Usually, I’m awkward and trying to figure out what to do when the night ends. I’m not a player. Never have been. I’m not a virgin, but I don’t take a girl to dinner with the sole purpose of getting in her pants.

We talk through dinner, like actual talk. She tells me a bit about her goal of becoming a social media guru. It’s not my thing, but I can see why people need someone like her. I have an Instagram account, but I forgot the password a long time ago. Where I come from, people aren’t big on the social media thing.

I pay the bill and remember what Aggie said about opening the door for her.

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The drive back is quiet, comfortable. Jinnie kicks off her heels again.

“Radio doesn’t work,” I say nervously. “I can get stations in sometimes.”

“I’m good. I like the quiet.”

We pull up to her tiny house too soon. The lights are off except for the porch, where a single bulb attracts moths in lazy circles.

I kill the engine. Neither of us moves.

“You know, for a farm boy, you’re not terrible company.”

“High praise from a baker.”

She smiles. I can’t help myself. I lean in.

Jinnie meets me halfway.

Her lips are soft, tasting like the tiramisu we finished our dinner with. I hesitate for just a second, unsure, but then she leans in to me, and all my doubts melt away. Her hand finds the side of my face. I kiss her deeper, my hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer. She tastes sweet. My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure she can hear it, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts in her seat, turning toward me, her other hand sliding up my arm to rest on my shoulder.

Her breath hitches when I brush my tongue against her bottom lip. She opens for me without hesitation. I can’t get enough. My fingers tighten on her waist as I kiss her harder, deeper, losing myself in the feel of her. She lets out a small sound, something between a sigh and a moan. My body immediately reacts.

Her hands slide into my hair now tugging slightly, just enough to make me gasp against her mouth. It’s messy and perfect.

Then suddenly she’s pulling away, breath quick. “I should—”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Yeah, of course.”

She grabs her shoes and leftover pasta, fumbling with the door handle. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Jinnie—”

But she’s already halfway to her door, moving fast. The tiny house door opens and shuts before I can process what just happened.

I sit there for a few seconds, staring at the closed door, the taste of her still on my lips.

One minute we’re laughing, kissing, connected. The next—

Gone.

The porch light flickers off. My signal to leave.

Chapter Seventeen