Page 53 of Where the Music Grows

“Helpful.”

“She likes you.”

I nearly choke on my toast. “She’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“Don’t overthink it. She had a good time—I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ve known her since she was a baby, and that girl doesn’t laugh with people she doesn’t like.” She stands, grabbing my empty plate. “Give her some space. She’ll come around.”

I slump back in my chair. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then you write a song about it.”

I sigh. “Yeah, another dude writing a sappy song about a woman.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Aggie says. “She’ll tell me and then I’ll tell you.”

I can’t tell if she’s joking. “Really?”

She winks. “Sometimes, you just need an inside edge. I’m the inside edge.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Aggie. I’m going to get started on those steps. Thank you for breakfast. It was just what I needed.”

“You’re welcome.”

I crouch next to Aggie’s porch, prying up the first of the rotting steps. I toss the old board into a growing pile of debris and wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I’m glad I have something to do, because if I was sitting in that tent right now, I’d be driving myself crazy.

Even now, my mind keeps wandering. No matter how hard I try to focus on the task at hand, Jinnie’s face keeps flashing in my mind. I can’t get her pretty smile out of my head. Or forget the way she leaned in to me in the truck. That kiss was definitely going somewhere.

What did I do wrong?

I grab a new board and measure it against the space where the old step used to be. The sawdust kicks up as I cut it to size. Maybe I came on too strong. Maybe she didn’t actually want to kiss me. But she kissed me first—or did she? Maybe I misread it. Maybe she was just being nice.

“Damn it,” I mutter as the board splinters slightly at the edge. I set it down and grab another one, trying to focus this time.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time I finish. I’m hot, tired, and stressed out. I wouldn’t mind taking another night off, but I can’t. I have to play tonight.

I set the last board in place, hammer the nails in, and step back to inspect my work. The new steps look solid—nothing fancy, but they’ll hold. My hands are sore, and my shirt is plastered to my back with sweat. I wipe my forehead with the hem of my shirt and head inside.

Aggie’s in the kitchen when I walk in. I smell the cookies before I see them. She glances up as I kick off my boots by the door.

“Finished?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Steps are done. Greenhouse is done. I’ll start on the back deck tomorrow.”

“You’re a hard worker, Jack. That’s a good quality.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to pull my weight.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” she says. “Now, go shower before you stink up my whole house.”

Chapter Eighteen

Jack

The saw bites into the plywood, sending a spray of sawdust across my boots. I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm and step back to survey our work. I feel like my escape from the dairy farm has landed me in day laborer hell. I’ve never built so much shit. If the music thing falls through, I know I can walk onto any construction site and get a job. Aggie seems determined to have me rebuild the whole damn town.