“What time is it?”

“Twelve forty.”

“Wow, already?” It hardly seemed any time at all had passed since Dylan sat down. But he was right: it was late and she wanted to be on the road early. “I should go,” she said, reluctant to leave. This time she’d surely never see him again unless their routes crossed over the next nine days.

“I’ll get my guitar and walk with you.”

“Do you need a ride to your hotel?” she offered, thinking his need of a lift was the reason he wanted to accompany her. From what she’d seen or heard, he hadn’t rented a car yet.

“Nah,” he said, standing. “We’re staying at the same one.”

“Oh.” She blinked, surprised at first. But it did make sense. The location to the bar was convenient given how late it was after his performance and a full day of driving.

He smiled and extended a hand toward the exit, inviting her to lead the way. It was a short walk over. The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars, and the desert night pleasantly warm. The motel had two floors where the room doors opened to the parking lot. Joy’s was on the first level three doors down from the office. Dylan still had to check in. She stopped at her door and offered him her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Dylan.”

He took her hand, and to Joy’s surprise he stepped closer. She could smell his spicy cologne and his salty perspiration from performing. She could feel his breath ruffle her hair, and a nervous flutter in her chest, as he leaned down and murmured against her ear. She held her breath. “Good night, Joy. Thanks for the ride.” He softly kissed her temple.

“Goodbye, Dylan,” she said.

He smiled and walked away.

The next morning Joy scanned her motel room one last time for any personal belongings she might have forgotten. Finding nothing, she picked up her suitcase and left the room. She closed the door behind her and stopped. Across the parking lot Dylan leaned against her car, aviator glasses on, guitar and duffel at his feet.

“Good morning,” he said, seeing her.

“Good morning,” she said.

Did he need a ride to the rental car agency? She should have offered last night. Their encounter had been brief, but admittedly, she missed him. After he kissed her good night, leaving her feelings in a warm tangle, she’d spent her entire bedtime routine—washing her face, brushing her teeth, selecting the following day’s outfit—thinking about Dylan, his vocals and that good night kiss on her temple. Then she thought of Mark, which made her feel guilty thinking about Dylan in the first place. She stopped thinking about either and focused on reviewing her planned route for today’s leg of her journey.

Joy walked across the parking lot. Dylan pushed away from her car.