Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2) by Lauren Runow (dar e dil novel online reading .txt) 📗

“Why do I sense a but coming on?”

She sighs, placing her hands on the counter. “I’m sorry. I guess you’re a grown woman now, so it’s none of my business. He just …” She pauses, like she’s finding her words. “No one really knows his story. All the women in town think he’s this mystery to solve, but he has a history that makes me worry, is all. I’m just not sure if hanging out with anyone is a good idea for you right now.”

I take a sip of my coffee, remembering how many times I had those same thoughts the past couple of days.

“Never mind. Don’t listen to me. Besides, it’s not me you’ll have to worry about hassling you about who you decide to spend your time with while you live here. It wouldn’t matter if the man were a brain surgeon or the wealthiest person in town. Your father has never liked the male company you keep. And after what happened—”

I hold up my hand to stop her.

She lets out a breath and starts cracking eggs into the bowl, letting the silence suffocate the both of us.

After a moment, I try to clear my mind and ask, “Where is Dad?” I search behind me to see if his shoes are sitting by the door.

“He went fishing early this morning.” She washes her hands before grabbing a fork to scramble the eggs. “And I’d be ready, if I were you. After spending that much time with Tucker last night, don’t be surprised if he comes home, knowing you two hung out. If there’s gossip that happens at that bar, everyone knows it real quick.”

“Why would this be gossip? I barely know the guy. We hung out with a group of friends.”

“Because everything with Tucker Simms is gossip. People only know what he lets them know. Since he didn’t grow up here, he’s kind of a mystery, especially after he split with Michelle.”

And there it is. She hit the nail right on the head. The town gossip. The main reason I haven’t missed this place. Believe me, it gets old when everyone knows your business.

“I’m not about spreading other people’s business, but just know, your father will have a problem if you decide to hang out with Tucker again—and not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking any reasons, so why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about?”

She pours the eggs into the pan and then sets the bowl down. She places her hands on the counter. “Everything I’ve heard is hearsay around town, and you know I try to keep my mind clean and my mouth shut when it comes to telling other people’s stories. Besides, it was years ago. Obviously, nothing big came of it, but that doesn’t mean your dad won’t be protective over you for it.”

“Way to be cryptic, Mom.”

I head to the coffeepot to refill my cup. I was confused on the feelings running through me already, but after this discussion, I’m even more confused. Funny how when someone says you shouldn’t do something, it only makes you want to do it more.

Since I spent so much time dealing with my mom’s car yesterday, I thought I’d head to the local coffee shop to try to get some work done.

As I enter Java Jitters, which wasn’t here when I lived here, I’m instantly welcomed by the homey vibe it offers. I glance around to see local artists’ paintings on the wall and a hodgepodge of couches and comfy chairs with throw pillows flung around, making it feel more comfortable than just plain tables and chairs even though there are a few of those mixed in as well.

I’m thankful I got a slow start to my morning, and now that it’s ten, I’ve missed the morning rush, so my options for tables are wide open. I choose one by the window, so I can gaze outside when I need a moment to think of what the best word choice fits with what I’m trying to say.

Walking up to the counter, I’m greeted by a sweet girl who smiles, saying, “Morning! What can I get you?”

“Just a cup of coffee for right now.”

I pay and am handed a mug, which I lift up to read. I laugh out loud when I see it has three spaced-out, horizontal lines on it with wording that says Go Away at the top, Not Yet in the middle, and How can I help you? at the bottom.

“That’s my favorite too,” the barista says. “Our owner loves getting all different kinds of mugs, so we have quite the collection.”

I turn to where she points, and in fact, I see a row of mugs where not one of them is the same. “That’s pretty cool actually. Thank you.” I grin before heading back to where I set my stuff.

When I open my email, I see Susan, my boss, emailed me late last night, which is no surprise. She’s the epitome of a New York boss lady, and work is her everything. It’s very common to have emails from her, sent at one in the morning, and then see her bright and early at the office at eight a.m., looking like she got a full eight hours of sleep.

Her email starts off with a list of smaller articles she wants me to work on but the tone of the email takes a turn quick. As I read it, I can tell she’s concerned about me being here even though she doesn’t come out and say it. It’s in the way she says, “How will it work with the photography department?” and, “It’s very important you hold up your end of the bargain.”

I’m very thankful they agreed to let me work remotely after giving me two-weeks paid vacation, but now, it’s time I show them that I can still be the same reliable person, even from thousands of miles away.

When I get to the part