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

“Then, you’re not hot shit, laying claim on fresh meat?” I bite the inside of my lip to hide my grin. Now that I know he’s really not trying to pick me up, I want to bring back the jabs we were giving each other because if I’m being honest, this is the first conversation I’ve had in a while that has made me feel like me.

“I’m glad you think I’m hot.” He takes a sip of his beer, keeping his sight on me.

I roll my eyes and laugh, feeling my cheeks redden.

He nudges me with his shoulder. “I’m just playin’. What else do you think of me?”

I take a moment to check him out more. His shirt looks custom fit with the way it’s snug in just the right places, showing off his chest and his lean yet muscular arms. His jeans are ripped slightly, and the cowboy boots he’s wearing are definitely worn on a daily basis and not here for show. He doesn’t come off like a guy trying to pick someone up. Honestly, he comes off as a super-laid-back kinda guy.

“So, I take it you’re still following your dream of being a rock star, hoping for your big break one day. You’re probably divorced because she couldn’t handle you constantly being on the road, and you also have kids in multiple cities all over Montana.”

“I’ll give you one point for your little guess of who I am, but only because two of those facts are half-right.”

I lean my elbows on the table. “Yeah? Which ones?”

He holds up his hand to count. “I’m divorced but not because of my music or being on the road.” He lifts the next finger. “I have one kid who lives here in Mason Creek and will be a senior in high school next year.” He meets my body language by placing his elbows on the table with his three fingers outstretched. “And just so you know, I’m not chasing. I’m living. I like performing here and have no aspirations of doing more. To me, it’s a fun hobby that I happen to get paid for—with every penny going to my son. He’s a smart kid with goals for college. My music is going to get him there.”

Color me surprised.

I keep my eyes locked with his, and he doesn’t budge. After a few seconds, I lift my beer and wait for him to clink bottlenecks with me. “It’s nice to meet you, Tucker. The real you,” I say as my way of waving the white flag.

Though I enjoyed our little game, he won it with his honesty.

While this game is over, something tells me there are more to come.

The night flies by as we tell old stories from when we were in high school.

“So, there we were, hiding in the bushes with two cases of beer because this one over here”—she thumbs in my direction—“started talking to Tim instead of keeping an eye out for the sheriff.” Leni picks up a nut from the bowl on the table, throwing it at me as all of us wipe our eyes from laughing so hard.

“Did you get caught?” Tucker asks me.

“No,” I say, catching my breath from laughing. “I finally remembered what I was supposed to be doing and had Tim go with me to distract the sheriff. He was a football star and got the sheriff talking about the team, so these two could sneak out and run away.”

“Do you know how hard it is to run with a case of beer?” Laken says, still giggling.

“See, I was still able to get you guys out of the situation.” I sternly nod my head. “You’re welcome.” I sit up straighter, trying to prove my point.

“A situation we wouldn’t have been in if you had done what you were told instead of getting all starry-eyed over the high school quarterback.”

I grin from ear to ear. “Come on. You remember how cute he was! You both would have done the same thing.”

“Yeah, and now, we get to see him every time we have a toothache. He’s the local dentist now,” Leni says.

“Shut up!” I slap my hand on the table in surprise. I haven’t thought about him in years. I guess he was pretty smart back in the day.

“Yep, now, you get to open your mouth wide to him for the right reasons,” Leni says, moving away from me so I don’t hit her for teasing me.

“Is there more to that innuendo?” Tucker asks with a sly look to his eyes.

I glare at all of them and point my finger. “Don’t say a word.”

They all laugh as Tucker lifts his beer to his mouth, saying, “Good to know,” under his breath before taking a drink.

I drop my head into my palm, still not living down being caught in his car, giving him head, by the same sheriff later that night. Not my finest moment.

“Okay, let’s not embarrass me any more than we already have. Next topic.” I turn to Tucker. “What about you? Did you grow up here? How come I don’t remember you?”

“Nah. I didn’t move here until a few years after high school.”

I try to hide my grin when I ask, “Do I want to know what year?”

He playfully narrows his eyes. “Let’s just say, it was in the ’90s.”

“Like, when I was born in the early ’90s or when I was older?” I bite the inside of my lip, tilting my head, pretending to be fully interested but just joking with him.

“You were fully out of diapers and on your way to school. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m twenty-nine. And you?”

“Once you’re past, like, twenty-five, isn’t it all the same?” Laken asks before he gets a chance to answer.

Tucker points his bottle at Laken. “Ain’t that the truth?”

“Okay, so your age is an enigma. What do you do for a living? When you’re not making panties melt while performing onstage, that is,”