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“Yeah, I do,” but right now it’s her I hear and feel. My hands grip the wheel and out of the corner of my eye, I see her put her head back to the window, her eyes slip shut, and she begins to sing along.
I’m officially lost in this girl.
Rolling my window down, I turn up the music, and in the comfortable silence, I soak up her company. They say everything happens for a reason, and just maybe she is mine. My reason, and for the first time in a long time, I feel inspired, and I’m ready to pick up my guitar.
With Clay, I realized I still do love the music, and with Ava, I’ve realized I still love what I do. I love writing music, I love letting it speak to me, and I’ve always loved when other people appreciated what we played. Clay and I may have fallen off track a little, but the tunes he was playing the other night let me know he’s well on his way to finding his voice again too.
A flare of excitement ignites under my skin. It’s been snuffed out for so long, and damn, if she isn’t the inspiration that lights the match. I’d forgotten what it feels like to have the urge to write, and once she leaves tomorrow, I know I’m headed back to Nashville to get started.
Once she leaves.
Shoving the wave of sadness aside that she’ll be gone, I turn down the music, and smile affectionately at her. She returns my smile with one of her own, and it’s so beautiful.
“So, other than Blue Horizons, what type of music do you like?” I want to learn as much as possible about this girl as I can.
“I like all kinds of music. In fact, can’t think of one I don’t like.” This statement is such a turn on to me. Knowing she appreciates the variations between music genres, I seriously haven’t found anything about this girl that I don’t like.
Remembering the piano keys, I’m now curious if she plays. “The tattoo on your wrist, tell me about it.”
She looks down at the cast and stretches her fingers underneath it as she thinks about her answer.
“I love the piano, it’s kind of my thing, and on my wrist it can be easily covered if I want it to. Do you have any?” she looks back at me.
She sings like an angel and plays the piano, so freaking sexy.
“Nope. Although I like the idea of them, they’re not for me.. All right, new guess . . . you’re a music teacher?” My eyes skip from the road to her. She busts out laughing and my heart soars.
“Nope, but I do have perfect pitch,” she says proudly.
“What?” My hand grips the wheel. I’m stunned.
“Do you know what that is?” she asks, her head tilting to the side.
“I do, and I’ve never met someone who has it before. I’m thoroughly impressed and dying to know what you do now.”
“No, no, no,” she shakes her head smugly. “We made a deal.”
“Yeah, but you can’t drop something like that and leave me hanging. That’s a huge piece of information.” She must be in the music industry. Shehasto. Then again, just because she loves it doesn’t mean she has to make a career out of it.
She grins at me, close-lipped, and I groan out in frustration.
“Fine then, don’t tell me. So, back in town, they’re having live music every night this week for the Apple Harvest festival, and I thought it might be fun to go and listen. That’s why I asked you what type of music you like. Alison Krauss and Union Station are playing tonight.”
“Blue grass! Count me in,” she squeals, sitting up a little straighter.
I can’t remember the last time I met a girl who genuinely likes blue grass. Most agree with me, just to agree, and Juliet hates it. She’s always complained about how it’s too twangy and she’d rather listen to pop instead. I love it. I grew up listening to my grandfather and his friends playing together. It’s mountain music; it’s in my roots.
“All right then. I threw some stuff in the back of the truck before we left, so we’re all set.” I smile at her.
“Thank you, Ash.” She reaches her hand over and places it on my thigh. She’s proactively touching me, and now I want to grab her, throw her across my lap, and squeeze her. Instead, I cover her hand with mine, and thread my fingers between hers.
“For what?” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand.
“All of this, everything.” She shrugs her shoulders, looking at me shyly.
I would give her everything if she let me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to stay. Hell, I’m pretty sure I want to ask her to stay forever, but it’s not the right time. Instead, I smile and turn the music back up.
