The song finished, the last note starting robust and boisterous and teasing out into a wisp of sound her ears couldn’t quite hold on to. She sniffed quickly, her throat bound up dry and tight.

LJ spread his arms, letting his saxophone dangle from its harness. “All right, now, who needs a hug?” His face cracked into its huge grin. Scorpion-Tattoo Girl laughed, swiping at her eyes as she pretended to scratch her nose.

Andra pushed off the ground and wrapped her arms around him, holding on a little harder than she probably should. His arm was warm against her back after the wall she’d been resting against, and his saxophone bumped against her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that song before, anywhere. What’s it called?”

“‘Montana,’” he said.

There were so many things that could mean, and she wasn’t sure she could face any of them. Especially not with the music tugging her emotions so close to the surface, like a single layer of skin was all that caged them inside. He squeezed her a little tighter into his chest and bent to her ear. “Don’t be sad, Andie-girl. Not tonight. There’s hours yet before we got to go back, and I’m in the mood to take my girl dancing.”

“It’s been years.” She bit the inside of her lip. “I’m not sure I even remember how.”

“I’ll remember for both of us,” he said, his face lighting up so she forgot the entire street of tourists around them. “Trust me.”

And she did.

Twenty-seven

Andra scooped a load of freshly washed sheets into the dryer, then braced her hands against the machine and stretched with a satisfied wince, her legs still sore from dancing. It had been an unforgettable night, hours disappearing in a whirl of colored lights and LJ’s smile, the sound of his voice into a microphone when the band at the club had invited him up on stage to sing one with them. But he’d still slept in the kitchen, and when she’d woken this morning, he was already off on a job. Moving furniture, according to the note tucked under the pot of freshly brewed coffee.

She searched the unfamiliar knobs on his dryer for the correct setting. He was so different here. She couldn’t deny she was developing a whole new crush on this New Orleans version of LJ, who was as gentle with his elderly neighbors as he’d been with her young horses. Who was every bit as comfortable on a stage as he was in her kitchen, and who could pour his whole complicated soul out through the notes of a song.

In the next room, the front door creaked as it opened, and Andra’s heart leaped into her throat. That door had been locked.