Page 90 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"Don't tell me you're into Lucy Jane, too."

"What, a guy can't like female artists?"

"Stop," he says. "Dolly, yes. Loretta Lynn or Winona Williams, of course. But she doesn't have their heart or their musical chops."

I almost never disagree with Patty. I've looked up to the guy since I was seven. But he tends to think that if something has gotten too mainstream, it must not be good. I doubt he's heard more than a few seconds of any of Lou's stuff. “Let me guess: someone at the bar put a Lucy Jane song on a playlist, and when you saw patrons singing along, you killed it immediately.”

He doesn’t deny it. "She has a song called 'Baby Llama Drama.'"

"Dolly has a song called '9 to 5.' And have you actually listened to 'Baby Llama Drama?' It's an earworm if I ever heard one."

"Is that the standard for whether or not something's good?"

"You're right," I say. "Forgettable music is so much better."

I can almost hear him gnashing his teeth. "We done here?"

I hold back my laugh. It's not often I get the better of him in a discussion, especially one about music. "We're done. See you tonight."

When I come out of the bathroom, Ash is already ready.

I washed her clothes, so she's wearing her jeans from yesterday—a loose pair that tapers and roll up at the cuff. She has on the tank top she must have worn under her outfit along with one of my plaid shirts tied at the front. She usually likes to match her makeup to the stripe in her hair, but she's wearing bright red lipstick, and with her cat eye glasses and her hair still up in that sexy bun, she looks almost like a Rockabilly princess.

"Wow," I say. "You are gorgeous."

Pookie barks and I do a double take.

Ash has dyed a blue stripe in Pookie's crazy ear hair. I laugh. "How did you do that?"

"Food coloring. It'll wash out."

"When did you do that?"

"Three minutes ago. You took longer than you think."

"I had to shave."

Her eyebrows raise and she leans forward, batting those huge eyes at me. "Oh, did you? And why did you need to shave?"

Fire roars low in my gut at the flirty question and even flirtier look on her face. I want to go full steam ahead with the flirting. I want to be open and tell her exactly how I feel. But I also don't want to spook her. I don't want to risk pushing her past a tipping point that goes in the wrong direction. We've fake dated for just over a week, and it's been the best week of my life. If I'm misreading her, I risk all of this ending before I'm ready.

I'll never be ready.

"Stick with me and you'll find out."

Part of the reason I took so long getting ready was that I called ahead to all of Ash's favorite places to get the makings of a picnic.

"I have no fudge," Jorge said when he answered.

"What do you mean? You sell fudge."

"Yeah, and I sold out!" he said. "I opened at ten like usual, and the line was down the street! I sold out by noon."

When Tia answered, she was too harried to say much, but her enthusiasm was contagious. "You can have anything you want on the house, Loverboy! We're packed."

"That busy, huh?"

"I haven't peed since we opened."

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