Mine Would Be You (31)

“I guess I can work with that.” I run a hand through my hair, which is blowing wildly in the breeze, and since my sunglasses are packed away, I’m forced to squint against the wind as well.

“There’s a hat under your seat, I think, if you want it.”

I reach under, and sure enough, my fingers come in contact with a ball cap, a black Brooklyn basketball one, and I swiftly adjust it to my head so it won’t fly off.

“This is one of my favorites. I think you’ll like it.” Jackson reaches for the volume before resting his hand back on the gear shift. I lean back into the seat, letting the contrasting temperatures wash over me as I listen to the song.

It’s soft, which I didn’t expect. In my head, country is tangy and loud, but the guitar and the voice are smooth. I even find myself tapping along on my thigh as I hear the low noise of Jackson humming along.

My phone beeps with a text, and Sloan’s name pops up next to the name of our group message.

Sloan: You guys owe me.

Harper: For what?

Me: ???

Sloan: You know what. I can’t believe I agreed to fifth wheel this.

Harper: Shut up. You love us.

Sloan: I never said I didn’t.

Me: You guys are literally right next to each other. Tell Roman I say hi.

I roll my eyes and turn to look at the backseat. Roman is attempting to read the messages on Harper’s phone as she holds it away, and Sloan, despite her text messages, has a smug smile on her face. I know she’s not actually bothered by it or she wouldn’t have come. One of the best things about Sloan is that she does what’s best for her and doesn’t ignore her own needs to please others.

My arm brushes Jackson’s as they both rest on the center console as another song starts.

“All right, what’s your favorite on this list,” I ask, reaching in my small bag at my feet for my bag of candy.

“Wow, coming at me with the big questions.” He hands me his phone. “Here. The passcode is zero-eight-two-eight. I’d say ‘Homesick.’”

Even though it shouldn’t, a warmth spreads over me. It’s stupid, and we’re literally not even dating, but how open and genuine Jackson is, it’s already absolutely one of the most attractive things about him.

So, after I catch my breath, I type in the code and add the song up next, interested to see what makes it his favorite. As soon as it starts playing and his fingers start drumming along, I understand the appeal. Easy strums and melodic snaps wash over me as I watch Jackson listen to the song. I could watch him do almost anything, I think. His shoulders sway in time with the beat, and he mouths along to the lyrics.

Which alone make me swoon.

He sings along quietly in the driver’s seat, and I can’t keep my eyes off him.

“Is this where you get your charm from? Listening to cheesy country music?” I ask, handing him a candy.

He glances over, popping the candy in his mouth. “So, you admit I’m charming?”

I can’t fight the soft laugh that escapes me as he continues to slowly break his way in. “Maybe a little bit.”

Since the sun has lowered a bit, he’s taken his sunglasses off, and they hang off the front of his top. His tanned arms are speckled with random freckles and a few white scars over his forearms. The loose blond curls look soft and fluffy atop his head, and my eyes trail slowly over the sharpness of his jaw and smooth skin.

He looks over at me briefly—I’m tapping along to the song now too because it’s almost impossible not to—and his blue eyes meet mine. My breath catches in my throat as he does. Because even though it’s a quick glance, and his eyes are back on the road in no time, it’s like he sees all of me when he looks at me, no matter how fleeting.

“All right, play the third one next. I think you’ll really like it,” he says, and I break my eyes away from him and play the song up next. It’s got a piano and light drumming in the background, and I lean into the seat.

I let the lyrics and the melody wash over me. Maybe it’s the fact that he took the time to make this playlist, and call it Nina’s Playlist, or a secret love for country I didn’t know I had, but I love it. I love all the songs that have played so far.

“Okay fine, you win,” I say, giving in. “I guess country isn’t so bad.”

He smiles wide, and the dimples pop. “Well, I am glad to hear that. We’ll be listening to it a lot.”

I smile, and I figure from our surroundings we’ve only got a few minutes left of the drive. The sky is painted in bright colors, red-hot orange and starburst pinks, with shades of blue, violet, and lilac peeking between. The salt permeates the air now, and I can see the water if I squint as what’s left of the sun glares off of it.

It’s colder now too since there isn’t much light left, and Jackson rolls up the windows to create a bubble as I snuggle into my crewneck. I pop a few candies in my mouth and offer some to Jackson and the three in the back seat. We’ve all fallen into a comfortable silence as we start seeing some houses, although I haven’t moved my arm off the center console, and neither has Jackson, so they’ve stayed touching this whole time.

“You’re joking. This is your house?” Harper says exactly what I’m thinking as he pulls into a stone driveway. Roman and Jackson both laugh at our shock as he parks the car.