Page 61 of Where the Music Grows

“You sure you don’t mind me skipping tonight?” I ask. “I feel guilty for skipping out on work today and tonight.”

Aggie waves a gloved hand. “Goodness, Jack, you’ve been playing six nights a week for weeks. The bar will survive one night without you. You don’t want to be too available. That’s how you keep people hooked.”

I laugh. “Just feels weird, is all. Even back home we didn’t take days off. There was always something to do, even on Sundays.”

“Go.” She points her trowel at me. “Have fun. Eat something fried and terrible. Flirt with that girl properly.”

I grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

This is more of Aggie’s matchmaking.

It’s a short drive to Jinnie’s place. I can’t remember a time when I had nothing more to do than have fun. I’m looking forward to it.

As I pull up, I realize something: I’m actually excited. Not just about the fair but about spending a whole day with her. No music, no crowds, no proving anything to anyone. Just me and Jinnie.

The thought surprises me. This is a different kind of excitement. It’s not the kind of excitement I feel when I’m getting ready to go on stage. It’s a fluttering in my heart.

She’s waiting on her tiny porch, dressed in cutoff shorts and a flowy top that catches the breeze. Her hair’s down, curling around her shoulders. She’s wearing a pair of what looks like new tennis shoes, perfect for our plans for the day. When she sees me, she smiles.

My stomach does a weird little flip.

“You have legs,” she teases.

I glance down at my shorts. “These bad boys don’t get out very often.”

Jinnie laughs, grabbing a small backpack. “Well, it works.”

I hear a meow and look around. “That’s Max.” She laughs.

A massive ball of white fur struggles to walk onto the deck. He looks at me like I’ve completely ruined his day.

“He looks...fun,” I say.

Jinnie opens the door for the cat to walk inside. “He’s a little grumpy. He’s on a diet.”

“I see.”

“I told him he had to go for a walk and if he didn’t, I was going to put a leash on him. He finds that to be very undignified.”

“Did he tell you that?” I ask with a cocky smile.

“Actually, he did. Max and I are very close.”

It’s something new I didn’t know about her. “Should we go?”

“Yep, I’m ready to roast under the sun, eat my body weight in greasy food, and see if a poorly put together ride can get me to toss my cookies.”

The county fair is three towns over. It’s a forty-minute drive, according to Aggie. We roll the windows down, letting the summer air rush through the cab. Jinnie fiddles with the radio until she finds some classic rock station, singing along under her breath.

I steal glances when I can—the way her fingers tap the beat on her knee with her hair blowing in the breeze. I’m kind of embarrassed I can’t offer her a nicer ride. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to care about my old, rusty truck.

“You’re staring,” she says without looking at me.

“Just wondering if you know all the words to every song ever made.”

She grins. “Only the good ones.”

We’re cruising down the highway, and Jinnie’s still singing along to the radio. She’s never going to be a professional singer, but she knows her music. It’s a Fleetwood Mac song, and she knows every word. I can’t help but smile. There’s something about music that feels like a secret language, and right now, it’s like we’re both speaking it.