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

I created. He’s grown up to be such a great boy, and now, he’s almost a man. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

“Besides, with Justine around, you might not want me around as much.” He smirks.

I nudge him with my shoulder. Knowing he’s talking about my sex life is weird, but he’s probably right. I guess this is the next stage in my life. One without a son I have to worry about. Where I get to explore what I want above anything else and not have to wonder if I’m setting a bad example for him.

Chapter Seventeen

Tucker

As I look out at the crowd that’s gathered to see us perform, I search for Justine. I didn’t feel right, having her in the mess of partiers by herself, but she insisted. She didn’t want to see the show from behind us. She wanted to experience it with the other people.

I can understand why since the vibe is down there, on the dance floor, but it still makes me uneasy.

Tonight, we’re playing in Billings, Montana, at a country bar that’s four times the size of Pony Up. This place has a real stage, a dance floor that can hold over one hundred people who are line-dancing at the same time, and a bar that wraps entirely around the dance floor. To add to that, there’s a second story that looks over the entire place.

This is by far my favorite place to play, but I’ve seen things get a little rowdy, and I just hope nothing happens tonight with Justine in the crowd.

I find her standing at the back of the room, sipping on her beer. I take the moment to stare at her when I know she won’t catch me watching. The way her brown hair is curled and flowing around her face with her lips looking so plump and kissable, I swear she makes my heart pump like nothing else.

“What are you looking at?” John, my drummer, asks. When he peeks over my shoulder and sees her sitting there, he steps back with a slight chuckle. “Damn, man. You do have it bad. Is she a cool chick?”

I close the curtain with an exhale. “Yeah. She’s getting to me, you know?”

He nods. “I know. Glad to see someone’s finally caught your attention. You ready?”

“Let’s do this.” I clap my hands together and grab my guitar.

My other bandmates, Timmy and Donny, join us as we walk out onto the stage, and applause erupts.

“Hey, Billings! Thanks for coming out tonight to see us! We’re The Tucker Simms Band, and I don’t know about you, but tonight, I think I want some more of it,” I shout as I start to sing “I Like It, I Love It” by Tim McGraw.

The audience screams as people rush to the dance floor, ready to let loose and enjoy the night.

Seeing Justine dance her way to the front puts a huge smile on my face as I move around the stage. Having her here lifts my spirits more than I ever thought possible. Being onstage has always felt like my happy place, but having her here feels more like heaven.

She dances around, and goddamn, she’s sexier than ever.

We continue to play, and this night is quickly becoming one I’m going to remember forever. The audience is on fire, and the entire place is electric with this fierce energy that’s bouncing off the walls.

After a few faster songs, we slow it down a bit to show the couples some love and maybe help a few guys get laid tonight by playing “I Can Love You Like That” by John Michael Montgomery.

The couples pair off as the singles leave the dance floor in search of another drink. My eyes are glued to Justine’s as I sing the song for her. I love the way she sways to the music, not bothered at all that she’s the only girl by herself. To both of us right now, it’s just her and me. All of these other people don’t matter.

I get through the first chorus when a guy approaches her from behind, placing his hands on her waist and getting way too close.

She steps out of his grip and politely denies his advances, which just makes me smile more.

Sorry, dude. She’s mine.

The guy doesn’t get the hint, and he tries again. I watch as she tells him no again, only this time, he spins her around so she’s facing him. I can’t see her face, but the way she’s putting up her hands on his chest and pushing him away has me fuming with anger over someone I don’t even know.

When she turns to face me, I see the way she’s frustrated that he won’t leave her alone.

I stop playing completely, and the guy doesn’t get the hint.

My band slowly stops as well when I yell into the microphone, “Hey, get your hands off of her!”

This guy must be really drunk because he’s oblivious to anything happening around him. When he wraps his arm around her waist and roughly brings her body against his, my blood starts to boil, and I see nothing but red.

I jump off the stage and rush toward him.

Grabbing his shoulder, I waste no time when I pull him off of her and sock him right in the nose. He falls to the floor, but I don’t care.

Reaching down, I pull him up by his shirt with one arm and swing with the other. Hit after hit, I see nothing but red.

Absolute rage takes me over. My heart pounds as all reason leaves my body. No one around exists. I’m not at a concert, and my band is no longer here. All I can think is to not stop until this guy gets the hint.

I feel people trying to stop me, but they’re no match for the anger flowing through me.

“Tucker!” I hear Justine yell. “Stop, Tucker. Stop!”

Hearing her voice snaps me out of my heat and back to reality where I suddenly realize what’s happening.