Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2)

by Lauren Runow

  “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 of the email where she asks for the list of articles I want to pitch for the next issue, my stomach starts to turn a bit. Before the incident, I had a list of things I was planning to work on, but those things might be harder to accomplish here, as they were really focused on city living.

  Looking out the window, I wonder how she’ll feel about changing things up and focusing on the smaller cities of the US. I know we have readers from all over, so it might be good to have a small-city section.

  I type out my idea then open up one of the more fun, sexual articles I was just assigned when I hear someone enter the coffee shop.

  Glancing up from my keyboard for a brief second, I see Tucker walk through the door.

  “Hey, Poppy. How’s the car doing?” he asks as he approaches the counter, not seeing me sitting here.

  “It’s been great, thanks to you. What can I get for you?” the barista responds.

  “I’ll take a large Americano and one of those apple fritters.”

  “You got it.”

  The barista turns around to start his drink, and Tucker moves to take a more comfortable position as he waits. When his sight locks on me, I instantly move my head back to my computer.

  “Funny running into you here.” He approaches my table, and I grin up at him.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “You mean, you didn’t just try to act like you didn’t see me standing there?” His lips tilt up slightly, and I can tell he’s just messing with me.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were looking to talk to anyone this morning,” I say, feeling dumb since he was obviously just talking to Poppy.

  “I guess you forget what living in a small town is like. This isn’t like New York, where everyone tries to pretend the person next to them doesn’t exist.”

  I let out a laugh. “Clearly, you’ve never been.”

  “Nah. But I can only imagine.”

  “Tucker, your order’s ready,” the barista says.

  He pays and then comes back to my table. “Are you up for some company?”

  “I can take a break.” I close my laptop and grab my notebook, placing them together and moving them to the side to make room for him. “Have a seat.”

  He does so. “What were you working on?” He nods his head toward my laptop.

  “My job is allowing me to work remotely, so I was just planning out some story ideas.”

  “Yeah? What kind of stories do you write about in Living Now?”

  I grin, not sure if I should share what I was really thinking about. He senses my trepidation and raises his eyebrows in question.

  “If you don’t want to share, I’m taking it, you were writing about female stuff.”

  I laugh. “Not really. I write a little of everything for the magazine; plus, I help put on events and do anything the magazine needs. My goal is to be the editor in chief one day, so my boss is grooming me to know every aspect.”

  “Wow, you’re ambitious. I like that.”

  I grin proudly. “But what I was working on right now was more sexual stuff.” I bite my lip, trying to stop the zing caused by saying that as I stare at the sexy man sitting in front of me.

  He sits up straight. “Now, I’m even more intrigued. Do share.”

  I shake my head, looking down and chuckling under my breath. Though I write this stuff, I’ve never really had a conversation about it with a guy.

  I try not to blush as I say, “ ‘Ten Quick Tips for a Sexier Pout.’ ”

  He motions to my mouth. “I can tell you right now, whatever you’re doing should be tip number one.”

  So much for trying not to blush.

  I change the subject, feeling like that was enough talk about anything sexual for the moment and decide to talk about my small city idea instead. “So, you like living in a small town?”

  He tears off a bite from his apple fritter and pops it in his mouth, knowing I was affected by his words but allowing me to have the pass on that conversation as he thinks about my question.

  Once he swallows, he nods, like he’s made up his mind. “I do. Of course, there are moments where I wish everyone didn’t know my business, but then there are moments where I’m very thankful I live here. I imagine that can happen anywhere, but it’s more often in a small town. I grew up in Billings. I liked it there, but this has always felt more like home.”

  Now, it’s my turn to take a sip of my drink and think about his comment. I loved living in New York, but I can’t say there was a time when I was thankful that I lived there.

  There was definitely a time when I wasn’t thankful I lived there.

  I set my drink down, not wanting to go there.

  “Do you have any family in Mason Creek?”

  “Nope. I have a sister but she left Montana pretty much after high school.”

  “Where’d she move?”

  “California,” he says before taking a drink.

  “Wow. That’s a little different than living in Montana.”

  “Not like you’d think. She didn’t go to a big city, like you did. She lives in a small town that actually has some similarities to Mason Creek. So, you can take the girl out of the country state, but …”

  He leaves the thought unfinished, and I smile, knowing where he was going with it. I think about my boots last night and how it felt good to wear them again. My small-town attire I guess.

  I think about what it means to live in such a small town, especially compared to the life I’ve lived the last ten years. “But don’t you get sick of running into people you know everywhere you go?”

  He shrugs. “Just because you run into them doesn’t mean you have to stop to talk to them.”

  “I see. Then, you’re normally the person who tries to ignore people when you see them?” I grin playfully.

  “You were trying to ignore me, weren’t you?”

  “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 my mom, who’s sitting on the couch, reading a book, and then I turn around, crossing my arms and pursing my lips. “Name one reason why.”

  “He’s closer to my age than yours. That’s enough of a reason.”

  “He’s only fifteen years older than me.”

  “And you were born when I was twenty. Which makes him only five years younger than me.”

  I sigh. “Daddy, just let me feel normal again. Is that okay? Don’t I deserve that?”

  He steps up, his jaw clenched like I saw a thousand times, growing up. “No one really knows about that guy, but believe me, there’s chatter that I’ve heard plenty of.”

  “From your fishing buddies?”

  I turn to my mom for help in our conversation since she’s always been the mediator between us. She sighs, tilting her head like she did in the past when she really didn’t want to get involved.

  “From everyone.”

  “Anna knows him really well because her husband works with him. I’d say that’s a better judge of character than chatter around town. Besides, if he were that bad of a guy, would this town support his music the way they do?”

  He narrows his eyes because he knows he can’t say any more. But also because I’m almost thirty years old and he can’t really stop me. It’s not like he could when I lived here anyway. At least now, I don’t have to sneak out.

  I place my hand on his chest. “It will be fine. We’re just going to hang out.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a huff.

  “Come on, Milt. I’ll help you bring in your fish.” Mom puts down her book and stands to pull him to the garage as I head out the front door.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back later.” I wave good-bye.

  “Have fun, sweetheart,” she responds over her shoulder.

  I step outside just as Tucker is exiting his truck.

  “Hey, I was just going to come get you,” he says, surprised to see me walking toward him.

  “My dad’s here, so probably better that you didn’t.” I open the passenger door and hop in.

  He follows my lead, and when he’s in the truck, he laughs, saying, “And here I thought, I was totally past having to deal with girls’ dads not liking me.”

  I grin at him, teasing, “I guess it doesn’t matter how old you get.”

  “Ha-ha,” he jokes.

  I reach for my seat belt, buckling it. “Do I get to know where we’re going yet?”

  “No, but I like that hat.” He pauses and looks down at my shorts. “Those shorts though …” He playfully bites his knuckles, and I reach across and smack his arm lightly. “I bet I can get them off of you.”

  “The fact that you told me to wear a swimsuit underneath pretty much solidifies that will probably happen.” I tilt my head, and he grins from ear to ear.

  He blows out a deep breath and runs his palm up and down his thigh before starting the car. “Yep, they’ll be coming off real quick.”

 
; “Ha! Gentleman, my ass. I knew you were all talk.”

  “Hey, a gentleman is also someone who when he’s with a woman he thinks is sexy, he makes sure she feels sexy too.”

  I feel my face blush so I quickly change the subject. “Are we going to the creek or something?”

  “Better. The lake.” He raises his eyebrows.

  The lake is about a half hour away, and there’s a beautiful winding drive through the hills to get there. Since we have the creek here in town—hence the name Mason Creek—I never really went to the lake because unless you have a …

  “Wait, do you have a boat up there?”

  “A ski boat.” He waggles his eyebrows up and down.

  My day just got brighter. I love going out on a boat—not a fishing boat, that is. There’s plenty of those around here but not many ski boats.

  He turns up the radio and hums along to the songs as we make our way through the tree-covered roads. Every once in a while, some words slip out, and I sit in awe at the sexy and soulful tone of his voice. Even in this low volume, I can tell he has a deep voice that’s perfect for country songs, nothing but pure and manly, which I’m sure every girl swoons over.

  The thought covers me in warmth, and since both windows are rolled down, I lean into the door to enjoy the cool breeze in my face. I’m glad I have my hat on, so my hair isn’t blowing around and whipping me in the face.

  I glance in his direction randomly. He’s sitting back in his seat with his legs spread wide and one hand on the wheel while he strums his fingers of his other hand on his leg to the beat of the song.

  He looks so laid-back in his black swim trunks and a white T-shirt. He’s got the same American flag hat on as the first night we met, and his facial hair has grown out even more today but still is pretty short against his chin. Most of all, I notice a guy who is totally comfortable in his own skin.