Page 8 of Playing it Country

“I’m not—”

“It’s live music, food trucks, beer—basically the perfect way to unwind on a Thursday.”

Damn. That does sound fun. Normally, I’d find something like that and just go by myself or meet one or two people there I know in passing. But this is like a date—a friend date.

Groaning, I rummage through my trunk for my emergency duffle and look inside. A maxi dress I can tie up and my favorite pair of white slip-on sneakers stare back at me, and I scoop up both things and slam the trunk closed before marching back toward the restaurant to change.

“Come pick me up; I’m changing now.”

“Aww, that was almost too easy.” She laughs.

“Yeah, well, you can buy the first round of drinks.”

“Done. See you soon.” She hangs up and I put my phone in my pocket as I walk back through the door. Aunt Holly snickers and I roll my eyes.

True to her word, Rhea is sitting in the parking lot when I come out, and after stowing my clothes in my car and locking it, I slide into her passenger seat with a huff.

“Born to Fly” by Sara Evans plays on the radio, and I shake my head, because if this song isn’t me, I don’t know what is.

“I’m not sure who is meetin’ up over there tonight, but when I talked to your aunt the other day, when I dropped off bread,”—she pauses for effect—“she said you could use a night out.”

“I just bet she did.” I laugh and settle into this weirdly easy rapport with the woman quickly becoming an actual friend.

“Oh come on, it’s going to be fun!” She shimmies in her seat as she turns down a long dirt road, and I see a large field up ahead already filling up with cars.

“I usually go to these things by myself. Most of the exploring I do is on my own.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?”

I shrug. “I don’t know; I like being out in nature and experiencing new things. I guess it’s just never made a difference to me having someone along.”

After parking, she turns and looks at me with sheer disbelief. “To be fair, my family is very involved in each other’s lives, and while they make me crazy sometimes, I couldn’t imagine not havin’ their chaos constantly on my doorstep.”

“I don’t really know any different,” I reply, and we both exit the car.

“Well, you’re about to get the full Thayer experience while you’re here.”

“That sounds ominous.”

She hooks her arm through mine, her expression far too innocent. “You mean fun. That sounds fun.”

“Sure.”

She cackles just as the band plays the opening chords to “Somethin’ I’m Good At” by Brett Eldredge. The tension in my shoulders instantly fades as the music washes over me. My blood hums in my veins as this new adventure unfolds in front of me.

Rhea bumps me with her hip before a group of women descends on us and all start talking at once.

“Ladies, this is Hannah, Holly’s niece.”

“I heard about you.” The dark-haired one holds out her hand. “I’m Isla.”

“Hannah.”

I shake hands with Marlee and Fallon in turn, and it’s so weird to be labeled asHolly’s niece.It’s hard to remember the last time I went anywhere that I had preexisting ties to.

Smiling, I watch as Hank, Waylon, and Otto all sidle up next to their girls and wow, is this a good-looking group.

“Where’s Cheyenne tonight?” Marlee asks Fallon and she smiles.

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