Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2) by Lauren Runow (christmas read aloud .txt) 📕

“I’m just kidding. I just always think of that Sam Hunt song, ‘Break Up in a Small Town.’ Every time I hear it, I think of Mason Creek.”

“They play country music in New York City?”

I laugh. “Not really actually, but Sam Hunt kind of crosses all genres.”

He nods and takes another bite of his food. “I’ll be the first to admit, breaking up in a small town can be very hard, especially when other people get involved. But living in that small town also worked in my benefit. It was nice, knowing I had people who would help me if I needed it. You never feel alone in a small town—that’s for sure.”

I sit back in my seat, taking in his words and remembering just how alone I felt before I came back home.

I think about all of my friends in New York and how they were there for me, but it wasn’t the same. It felt more superficial. They were all so busy with their day-to-day lives that seemed nonstop. No one had time to really sit with me to make sure I was okay.

“What about the opposite of that song—meeting new people in a small town?”

“I met you.” He holds up his coffee to me before taking a sip.

I grin and let his words, simple yet meaningful, wash over me. “I guess you’re right. And I thought I knew everyone in this town.”

“You might think you know everyone, but that’s not possible. You might know the people you went to high school with and their parents. But what about the people a few years above you in school?”

“Like who? You? How many years above me are you?” I tease.

“If you’re twenty-nine, then I’m fifteen years older than you.”

I do the quick math. “Why didn’t you just say forty-four?”

He puts his hand on his chest, like he’s wounded. “Ouch. That sounds so old.”

I pick up my drink to take another sip. “It’s not. You don’t look it anyway.”

“I don’t feel like it either.”

“Kid at heart?”

“Nah, I don’t want to be a kid. Too much shit to deal with while you learn your path. I just don’t feel old, you know?”

“So, you like being older?”

He inhales and thinks about it. “Yeah, I guess I do. Life is good. Seemingly getting better too.”

The way he says it, looking right at me, makes me blush. I don’t want any type of relationship right now, yet here we are, running into each other like this over and over again.

Is that a plus or a minus for living in a small town?

He finishes his apple fritter and gathers his plate and his coffee. “Well, I don’t want to keep you too long, as I know you’re here to work, not gab away. I’ll give you a call—maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure, that’d be nice.” I smile, thinking that exact sentiment. Maybe just hanging out with someone new will take my mind off of everything I’ve been through.

As he gets up, I try to act busy by opening my laptop, and I pretend to search through my emails, though I’m really glancing over my computer screen to watch him as he walks away.

Chapter Five

Justine

I’m just about to get ready for my day when I notice my phone has a text message. Swiping it open, I see it’s from a local number. The same number I called my phone from the other night … Tucker.

Hang out with me today.

I smile as I text back, wanting to mess with him a little bit.

Why should I?

Because I promise I’ll show you a good time and welcome you back to Mason Creek the best way I know how.

I grew up here. I’m sure whatever you have planned, I’ve done.

Not this.

I’m not going to lie. He has me intrigued, and when I think about hanging out with him, trying to feel some kind of normal again, it feels really good.

OK. Give me time to get ready.

No need. Pull your hair up, throw on a bathing suit, and grab a hat.

Bathing suit, huh?

Yes, that’s an absolute must. Unless you want to go nude. I won’t stop you.

I laugh out loud, surprised he went there.

And here I thought you were a gentleman.

Hey, I also believe that a woman should do as she wishes. If you want to go nude, then more power to you.

Don’t hold your breath, but I’ll still go with you. ;-)

I’ll be by to pick you up soon.

Sounds good.

He texts back the cool man wearing black sunglasses emoji, and I laugh as I send a clown back.

Please don’t tell me you’re about to school me on my emoji use.

Sorry, Gen X, but you have to get cooler than that.

What should I have texted you then?

I send him an emoji of wide-open eyes, an hourglass, and a peach. Mostly for my enjoyment because he won’t know that they mean he wants to stare at my curves and ass.

All right, Millennial. Don’t forget you’re considered just as old as me to the Gen Z’ers. Now, get your ass in a bikini because I’ll be there in thirty.

I’m giggling as I throw my phone on my bed, trying to remember where I put my swimsuit when I unpacked.

A half hour later, I’m walking out to the living room—wearing cutoff shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, and my hair is pulled up in a ponytail with a ball cap on—when my dad walks in through the garage door.

“Can someone explain why Tucker Simms is pulling into my driveway?” he asks, pointing his thumb behind him.

“He’s here for me, Dad.”

“For you?” he asks with his eyes open wide. “Now, what in the world would you be doing with Tucker?”

“We’re just hanging out. It’s not a big deal.” I grab my purse and head out before Tucker can make it to the front door and my dad tries to have a talk with him.

“I don’t like you going out with him,” he states firmly.

I look to