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She searched my face. “I want to hear it.”
“Sure. Just let me know when.”
“How about now?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Now? You want to leave? What about your friends?”
She swiveled in her seat, glancing toward them; Stacy, Holly, and Maria were engrossed in conversation, ignoring the guys who were still fighting to remain of interest. Turning back to me, Morgan waved a hand. “They’ll be fine. How did you get here? Did you Uber?”
“I have a truck,” I said, surprised again at how quickly Morgan seemed to take control of the situation.
“Then let’s go,” she said. Standing, she swung her bag from the back of her seat, then leaned toward her friends. “I’ll see you all back at the hotel, okay? We’re going to take off.”
I watched their eyes flicker between us, startled. One of the guys crossed his arms, clearly disgusted.
“You’re leaving?” Maria said.
“Don’t go!” Holly pleaded.
“C’mon. Stay with us!” Stacy urged.
By the way their eyes raked over me, I guessed they were concerned about Morgan leaving with a relative stranger.
But Morgan was already circling the table and leaning in to hug her friends one by one. “I’ll text you guys,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” Turning to me, she asked, “Ready?”
With her leading the way, we squeezed through the bar to the exit. As soon as we stepped outside, the cacophony dropped off, leaving my ears ringing.
“Which way to your truck?”
“Just around the corner.”
After a few steps, she shot me a sidelong look.
“My friends obviously think I’m crazy for doing this.”
“I noticed that.”
“But I was kind of tired of that place, anyway. It was too noisy, and those guys at the table were a little too into themselves.”
“Even so, do you think leaving with me is a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You don’t really know me.”
She tossed a length of hair over her shoulder without breaking step. “You’re a farmer from North Carolina. You grow tobacco, heirloom tomatoes, and raise organic cage-free eggs, and in your spare time you write music. You’re here for another week and a half and you’ll be playing at Bobby T’s tomorrow, so pretty much everyone knows exactly where you’re going to be if you try anything funny. And, besides, I have Mace in my bag.”
“Seriously?”
“Like you implied, a girl can’t be too careful. I grew up in Chicago, remember? My parents made me promise to be cautious whenever I went out at night.”
“Your parents sound like very smart people.”
“They are,” she agreed.
By then we’d reached the truck, and I uttered a silent thanks that I’d wiped down the dusty seats before my trip. Keeping a truck clean on a working farm was an impossibility. As I unlocked it and started the ignition, she surveyed the interior.
“You brought your guitar with you? Like you knew I was going to ask?”
