She stumbled, going ankle-deep in a gritty puddle in the bottom of a pothole. She pulled her cowboy boot out, shaking off the water. Sandals were going on the shopping list, stat. These boots were stifling, the soles transferring the heat of the pavement upward until her feet might as well have been resting in a roasting pan.

The music was coming from this street: a small porch seething with bodies and the flash of sunlight off brass instruments. She passed another vacant lot, trying not to be rude as she peeked toward the musicians, searching for house numbers.

Then the sax threaded up through the center of the song, and she stopped as if the sidewalk had grabbed her boots. It wasn’t the song he’d played for her, but all the other music was sharp corners, where LJ’s saxophone was smooth curves.

She could hear him, but she couldn’t see him. The house itself was narrow as a hallway, painted a bright purple no one would dare in Montana. Every bit of shade from the covered porch was filled with black men holding musical instruments she mostly couldn’t name. Trumpets, maybe horns? A handheld keyboard with a tube hanging off it that was tucked into its player’s mouth. Two guys lounged on the porch swing, the sousaphone player squished in behind it. There was only one woman, her fingers cradling her instrument with the same loving reverence LJ always used for his saxophone.

Andra finally spotted LJ tucked into the center of the crowd. He was the tallest, with droplets of sweat beading his bare, rippling back muscles as he curled forward into his instrument. The keyboardist glanced at her but kept playing. Up close, their crazy collection of instruments was so battered that the brass held the texture of wadded paper, smoothed back not quite flat.

A shorter man on the porch steps cocked his chin at her, resting his guitar in his lap. “You looking for somebody?”

She resisted the urge to cross her arms and tried for a smile that looked friendly, but hopefully not encouraging of the flirtation in his. “Found him, actually.”

The music stopped and LJ spun around. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, a self-conscious prickling running down from her scalp.

He blinked, and she waited for that huge, bright smile, but instead he said, “Andra! Hey, uh . . . wow.” He set his saxophone on the porch swing. She took a step closer to the house, but instead of coming down to meet her, he opened the front door and reached inside.

Guitar Guy grinned. “LJ, I should have known that was your cowgirl when I saw her walking down the street so fast. She’s got the boots and everything.”