Perfect Song (Mason Creek Book 2)

by Lauren Runow

“Isn’t this a fun development? I’m sure your father is thrilled,” she says with a sarcastic tone.

  I glance at Tucker, who lets out a huff as he drops his sandwich on his plate instead of taking a bite. The way he keeps his head down and his lips pursed show her words have rubbed him the wrong way.

  I turn back to face her. “I’m a grown woman, so I’m not really worried about his thoughts right now.”

  She pats my shoulder. “Sure you aren’t, dear. Well, you two enjoy your lunch. I’ll be seeing you around. Bye, Tucker.”

  When she leaves, I meet eyes with Tucker, and his expression makes me laugh.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. I have a feeling I should be worried about your dad, but instead, I’m just falling for you more and more every time we hang out.”

  I grin and want to tell him the feeling’s mutual but decide to hold back just a little bit.

  Chapter Eight

  Justine

  When I exit my room the next morning, I see my mom sitting at our kitchen table, reading over the local newspaper.

  I take a seat across from her. “Anything exciting in the newspaper this morning?”

  She closes it and takes a breath. “Thank goodness it’s not in The MC Scoop online, but with this town, sometimes, it doesn’t need to be for news to spread.” She eyes me, and I get the feeling I’m not going to like this. “I heard from Shelly that she overheard Missy and Stacey having a conversation about you last night.”

  I roll my eyes. Just hearing all of those names reminds me of what I don’t like about this town. Not only is everyone in everyone’s business, but it’s also I heard so and so and on and on, so no one really has the facts. It’s all hearsay.

  “What is it this time?” I ask, annoyed. I had to deal with this in high school, and a lot of it was false.

  “When you borrowed my car yesterday, was it to have lunch with Tucker?” she asks bluntly.

  I nod, not trying to hide anything because there’s nothing to hide. I’m a grown woman. I can have lunch with whoever I want. “Is that a problem?”

  “I just wonder what’s going on with you two.”

  “I guess we’re spending time together. I’ve only known him for a few days, so we’re just feeling things out. Why?”

  She purses her lips. “Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have any issues with him personally, but he’s quite a bit older than you.”

  “We’ve already had this conversation.”

  “Yes, but there are stories. Stories I’ve heard about him that I’m not really comfortable with when it comes to him dating my daughter.”

  “Like what? He seems like a pretty nice guy.”

  “You know he has a son, right?”

  “Yes, actually, a lot of my friends have kids. When you were my age, you had a nine-year-old. If anything, I’m late to the game.”

  She sighs, knowing I’m right. “I don’t want to be the person who puts ideas in your head about him. There are stories about things that happened between him and his ex-wife.“

  “I’ve never heard of a divorce that wasn’t messy, especially if it involves kids,” I counter. “I have a few friends who have been through the worst ones imaginable, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

  “Just be careful, okay? He has a past.”

  “Yeah, and so do I. Remember? Should I be judged by my past?” I say defensively.

  She places her hand over mine. “That’s totally different.”

  “Is it really? I’m sure if anyone around here heard what actually happened in New York, I’d be the talk of the town. And how many times would that story change as it got through the gossip mill? By the time it spread to everyone, I’d be the one who caused it all, and people would believe I was to blame.”

  This community is worse than the game of telephone that we played as kids. You can only believe a portion of what you hear sometimes.

  “I just worry about you, is all. After what happened with Jimmy … ”

  My eyes pop up to hers, daring her to say more.

  She holds up her hands before picking back up her newspaper. “I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to mention anything.”

  I stand, picking up my mug as well. “You can’t judge me because of Jimmy, just like we shouldn’t judge Tucker by what you’ve heard. For all you know, it could be lies or stories that were changed so many times that they barely resemble the truth.”

  I walk away, frustrated and needing my own space.

  After I shower, I head to Java Jitters, wanting to get some work done and to clear my head from the conversation with my mom.

  As I approach the counter, I notice someone I went to high school with, only she graduated a few years below me. I read her name tag, which says Jessie, and I instantly remember her last name is Phillips.

  “Hi, Jessie. Remember me? I graduated a few years before you, but I think we had art together,” I say.

  “Why, Justine Samson. I heard you were back in town, causing the rumor mill to fly about you and a certain guy.”

  I drop my head back with a sigh. “I got an earful this morning from my mom. I take it, you heard I had lunch with Tucker yesterday?”

  She laughs. “You know he’s the catch of the town. The one that no one can seem to snag. That is, until you come along.”

  I shake my head with a chuckle, and then my mom’s words ring in my head. “How well do you know him?”

  With a grin, she replies, “He works for my dad, but that doesn’t mean much for me. He’s always liked him though, which I think says a lot since you know my dad is a hard-ass.”

  She eyes me, and I laugh.

  Aren’t all dads hard on their daughters?

  “I know Tucker just as much as everyone else does though. He’s got a great teenage boy who’s always very polite when he comes in here, if that means anything. And of course, I know he sings. Man, that guy can sing.” She smiles, all dreamy-like.

  “I haven’t heard him yet—well, for real, I mean.”

  She inhales a gasp. “Let’s just say, he puts on quite the show around here. If anyone is gossiping about you two, it’s only because they’re jealous. I’ve heard of quite a few single women who wanted more than the one-night stand they got.”

  I instantly feel deflated. I didn’t want to hear that. I don’t want to know he’s the town man-whore. She reads what I’m thinking, as it must be written all over my face.

  “I’m not saying he’s hooking up with everyone. And who knows? What I have heard could be all lies. All I know about the man is, he likes his coffee with just a splash of cream, or he drinks an Americano, and whenever he comes in here, he always tips. They say, you can judge a character more by the way they treat the people who serve them, so he’s good in my book.”

  I give her a half-smile because I don’t know what else to do. The last thing I want is another relationship with drama. With Jimmy, everyone said he was this amazing guy, yet no one knew the real him and what he got himself into.

  Is Tucker the same way? Does he keep all these secrets for a reason?

  Jessie smiles big, taking me out of my head. “Here.” She hands me an apple fritter. “You look like you could use a treat. These are made by Joy at The Sweet Spot bakery and are amazing. On the house.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take a latte as well. You don’t mind if I sit and get some work done, do you?”

  “Of course. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

  Once I sit down and open my laptop, I see an email from my boss, Susan, approving a new bio piece on two musicians that I pitched her on. A few years ago, I followed this female artist who was making quite the name for herself on the indie music scene in New York.

  After a concert one night, there was an accident outside the venue that killed one of the bandmates, and she disappeared as well. That is, until recently. Adam Jacobson, the lead singer of one of the hottest rock bands, Devil’s Breed, just announced in the most insane
way that he not only has a daughter, but he’s also falling in love with her kindergarten teacher, who just happens to be the same artist I loved all those years ago, Sarah Russo.

  The two created a song that’s climbing the charts, and I’m hoping they’ll let me tell their story.

  Step one was getting approval from my boss to do the piece. Step two will be contacting the record company and making my way through the channels to see if they’ll even allow me the interview. I have my work cut out for me today, for sure.

  Later that night, I’m sitting on my bed when a text from Tucker comes through my phone.

  How was your day?

  Besides hearing about how we’re the town gossip … it was good.

  To my surprise, the phone rings with a call, showing his name and the words FaceTime Video underneath it.

  “You FaceTime?” I answer, kind of shocked

  I didn’t think people his age did such a thing. Shoot, I hardly ever do. It seems like a younger-generation thing to do.

  “Blame my son. He always FaceTimes me, and I’ve just gotten used to it since he’s really all I talk to.”

  I giggle with my previous thoughts proving my point.

  “Don’t listen to the things you hear,” he says, looking as handsome as ever.

  I could get used to this type of conversation.

  I hold the phone, so I have a decent picture reflecting back to him. “How do you know what I’m hearing is bad?”

  He laughs, and it soothes my nerves instantly. “Because I’ve lived in this town for long enough. People think they know me, know my story, but they don’t.”

  “Then, what is your story?”

  “I’m just a man trying to enjoy life the best I can. And, no, that doesn’t mean bringing every girl I can back to my place. I don’t roll that way. I have a son who I’m trying to teach how to be a man, not some schlep.”

  I curl up in my bed, totally at ease with him and our conversation, and prop the phone up, so I can still see it. “And what does being a man mean to you?”

  He sits back in his chair, positioning the phone so he can get more comfortable. “Being a man means being responsible. Doing what needs to get done first and foremost before anything else.”

  “Then?”

  “Then enjoying the fruits of his labor, only being responsible while doing so. You’ll never see me drunk, and you’ll never see me do anyone wrong. You have my word on that.”

  “And what’s your word worth?”

  “More than gold, baby. A man is nothing if he doesn’t have his word. But enough about that. How was your day?”

  I laugh. “I got approval on a big article I want to do, so that’s exciting.”

  “Congratulations.” He purses his lips. “Damn, I meant to pick up a copy at the store. Next time I’m at the market, I’m going to pick up a copy though.”

  I chuckle under my breath. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended you don’t read it. I know it’s not really your thing.”

  “What do you think my thing is?”

  I go to speak but can’t seem to form words since I’m flustered by his comment and how it instantly had my brain go to something sexual.

  “You know what’s funny?” I ask, changing the subject but not waiting for him to answer. “Sometimes, I write pieces about what to say on a first date or what to talk about when you first start dating someone, and here we are.”

  His face lights up, like he’s excited I just said first start dating someone. “Tell me some of your favorite ones.”

  “There are the crazy ones, like what would you do if you won the lottery or what’s on top of your bucket list.”

  “Those are easy. I’d buy everyone I love a home, so they could semi-retire early. And as for my bucket list, I’ve always wanted to drive a sports car.”

  “Really? That’s it. I’ve asked many men those same questions when I was writing an article a year ago, and I’d say those are the simplest answers I’ve ever gotten.”

  He grins. “What can I say? I’m a simple guy. Give me a Coors Light and my favorite people by my side, and I’m a happy man.”

  I raise my eyebrows to him. “And the sports car?”

  “I just want to do that once.” He holds up a finger. “To feel the thrill of it all. Then, I’ll go back to my truck.”

  I nod, loving his answers. I don’t think I met one simple person in New York. Don’t get me wrong; I met some amazing people, but everyone had an agenda, a goal they felt they had to meet in order to be happy. Not Tucker. He’s happy just as he is.

  We spend the next three hours talking on the phone. I feel like I’m in high school again, staying up late and sneaking in a call so my parents don’t find out.

  Above anything else though, for the first time in months, I’m not stressed about trying to fall asleep and panicking about what happened, and I have Tucker to thank for that.

  Chapter Nine

  Tucker

  I know my son’s going to give me shit for bringing Justine to his game but not in a bad way. He’s mentioned a few times that I need to find someone to date over the years, but it was just never a priority for me. I didn’t tell him I was bringing her, so I’m sure the shock of it will be written all over his face that I’m taking a big step, introducing the two of them.

  I pull up to her parents’ place, and she’s waiting outside for me.

  “Is your father still acting weird about us hanging out?” I ask after she runs to my car and hops in.

  She grins in my direction. “I didn’t tell him it was you who was picking me up.”

  I laugh out loud as I pull away from the curb. “Who would have thought that at the age of forty-four, I’d be sneaking a girl out of her parents’ house?”

  “It’s not sneaking out—technically. They know I’m going to watch a baseball game.”

  “You’re acting like a teenager, trying to justify it in that sexy brain of yours.”

  I love the way she shakes her head, chuckling under her breath. “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter how old you get; you still try to hide things from your parents.”

  “Not my son. Sometimes, he tells me too much. I’m like, ‘Dude, I’m glad you’re comfortable with talking to me about things, but I don’t need to know everything.’ ”

  Her lips purse up, like she’s looking at a cute puppy. “Aw! That’s so cute. You should be thankful. Most teenage boys hate their dads.”

  A smile spreads across my face. “Yeah. I guess I am lucky like that. We’ve always been close.”

  “Does he know I’m coming?”

  “Nope.” I pop the P to make it more of a fact.

  She gasps. “Is this going to be weird?”

  “Nah. He’ll be glad to meet you.”

  “Now, you have me all nervous.”

  I reach over and grab her hand. When I see her face instantly flush, I try to hide my smile, feeling the same way. Who would have thought that a simple hand touch would make such an impression on your soul?

  “Don’t be.” I leave my hand there as we drive toward the highway.

  “So, where’s the game?”

  “About an hour away. Matthew was lucky enough to make the team, but when he tried out, they really should have emphasized on just how much travel would be involved. Since Mason Creek is such a small town, they had to pull from cities all around us, and then they have to travel an hour or two just to find other teams to play. So, I hope you’re up for the drive.”

  She shrugs with a smile. “No worries from me. As long as we’re moving. There’s nothing worse than traveling outside the city and sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a hot summer day. I might love New York, but I don’t miss the traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Plus, the fresh air will be a welcome addition.”

  “I can’t imagine not having open roads to drive down and clear my head. And as for the air, man, there’s nothing better than taking a deep inhale of clean mountain air.”

  “So, do yo
u travel to every game of his?” she asks.

  “I haven’t missed a game, and it’s nice to finally have a companion to drive with since he normally goes with the team. They have to get there early and warm up.”

  She smiles big, and it makes my heart beat a tad bit faster.

  It’s a beautiful summer day, and with the windows down on the truck, the cool breeze feels amazing. When I notice Justine holding her hair, I reach behind me and hand her a ball cap of mine.

  She happily takes it and runs her ponytail through the back before sliding it on her head and giving me a big smile.

  “Much better,” she says.

  I place my hand on her thigh, loving seeing her wear my hat, and imagining what she’d look like, wearing my T-shirt and nothing else.

  “So, tell me,” she says as she slightly turns my way, placing her hand over mine, making sure I keep it there. “What’s your favorite song you sing?”

  She licks her lips, and I wonder what they taste like.

  “Wow, that’s a hard one.” I think about it for a second. “That’s like naming your favorite child.”

  She laughs, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve heard in a while. I remember hearing it the first night at the bar, it was a beautiful melody I wanted to hear over and over again.

  “Yes, and deep down, I bet every parent could secretly say which one they liked better. Except mine since I’m an only child.”

  “And me since I only have one child,” I volley back.

  “So, which one is it?”

  “I remember seeing a book put out by Rolling Stone that had what they thought were the five hundred greatest songs of all time, and you know what surprised me about that list?”

  “What?” she asks, genuinely interested.

  Besides my band, I don’t really get to talk about music with anyone else. People like to talk about my performances but not about the actual music. It’s nice to have someone I can share my passion of the actual songs rather than the performances.