“Eh. It’s a good thought, but my job keeps me plenty busy.”
“I hear that,” Martha says, leading us to the back, where she grabs my prescription.
“Since the name on the prescription is different, I’m going to need to see your driver’s license,” she says apologetically.
“No problem.”
I fish my wallet from my back pocket. Sliding out the license, I hand it to Martha, feeling Kinley’s eyes on me. I lift my chin at her, questioning.
“Your name isn’t Mackenzie Nash?”
“When I was about twenty-one, twenty-two, someone told me that my real name wasn’t marketable and I should get a stage name. So, I used my best friend’s middle name and my mother’s grandmother’s maiden name.”
“Then what’s your real name?”
“Doesn’t really matter. I don’t really go by it anymore. I think of myself as Mackenzie.”
“Oh. Totally get it. I wouldn’t push otherwise, but if you were to have another incident, I’d need to know it for the hospital.”
“Shit, hadn’t thought about that.” I hold out my hand for her to shake and, grinning, she takes it. “Hi there. Name’s Jolene Hightower.”
She shakes my hand, lingering in the hold as she quirks her brow. “Who wouldn’t think that Jolene Hightower isn’t the most perfect country music name ever?”
“An idiot, it turns out. I do like what I came up with, so it kinda worked out in the end.”
“Your friends don’t call you Jo, do they?
“Not if they want me to answer to them.”
“Message received.” She chuckles to herself. “Here lies the perfect country name. Doomed to rot in the dustbin of history.”
I crack up, and so does Martha as she gives me back my ID. I pay the copay, and we make our way out the door, my hand immediately finding its place on Kinley’s lower back. The coffee shop is just a few doors down, and we stop in.
Kinley grimaces. “Shit. Polly’s working the counter today. Jake’s entire personality is Disney movies, but Polly? I have no control over what comes out of that woman’s mouth.”
Polly greets Kinley, and her eyes track my hand immediately. Seeing the score, Kinley steps away from me, and, not expecting it, I wobble.
“Shit, sorry, you can put your hand back on me,” she says, her cheeks bright red. Adorable.
“Hey, Polly. This is Mac. She’s staying in my dad’s hunting cabin while she recovers.”
“Oh yeah. The singer. I heard you were a real bitch.”
“Polly!” Kinley’s face is practically fluorescent.
I hold up my hand. “No, that’s about right. I’m actually a pretty chill person, but this brain stuff makes it hard to regulate my emotions. Now that I know what’s going on, I’ve got a little more control over it and don’t plan on terrorizing any more of the locals.”
“Save for me,” Kinley mutters, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, shush. You think I’m delightful.”
She looks up at me, her brow arched. “Delightful, huh? That’s what we’re going with?”
I grin back, enjoying the way she shifts. Yes, I’m flirting with her in front of whoever this Polly person is, but I don’t give a shit.
Turning back to the woman behind the counter, Kinley asks, “Polly, do you have any samples of the lemon bars? I told this one that yours were the best.”
“Sure, hon.” She reaches over and grabs a variety platter full of small bite-sized samples. I grab the toothpick, stab the little wiggly yellow cube, and put it in my mouth.
