Bluestone Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

tables in
the diner, would even do a little swirl now and then to impress
him. But now, best to stay under his radar. He had plenty of other
admirers around him. She’d never seen so many women in Bluestone
dressed in tight-fitting T-shirts and cropped shirts, snug jeans
and short shorts.
    Yet he watched her.
    She’d expected he’d be busier, setting up or
something, but all he had was his amp, his mic and his acoustic in
the corner of the bar on the hastily constructed platform Quinn had
put in earlier today. She remembered the first guitar he had, one
he’d gotten at a garage sale. She’d saved up her tips all summer
long, telling him she was saving for a car. Instead she’d bought
him an acoustic Gibson.
    She’d never forget the look on his face, the
delight, the wonder, followed by a drive to the lake and some
excellent kissing and serious petting on the hood of his car.
    She wondered when he’d last played in a bar.
The last she’d heard, he was doing arena tours with Carrie
Underwood.
    Of course there were almost enough people in
here to fill an arena, and all of them wanted beer. Now.
    Maddox’s voice through the amp startled her.
“Welcome to Quinn’s, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Maddox Bradley.”
    The applause and cheers echoed off the
rafters. Beth would have covered her ears if she didn’t have the
loaded tray.
    He started with one of his hits, which
surprised her, knowing the little she did about concerts. She
thought the artists held their best stuff until last. But this way,
even with the crowd in Quinn’s singing along, she could pretend she
was listening to the radio, that the man himself wasn’t sitting a
few yards away.
    She’d forgotten what a lovely voice he had,
without all the back-up instruments and technology to make him
sound good. He didn’t need any of that—he had a talent all his
own.
    Once the raucous applause died down, he
leaned close to the microphone. “I’d like to play a song I wrote
when I was here in Bluestone one summer, a long time ago.”
    Beth couldn’t stop herself from pivoting
toward the stage. As if expecting her reaction, he tipped his hat,
then strummed the intro to the song. A tumble of emotions she
didn’t want to identify rolled through her, and she turned away to
get back to work. Nonetheless, she found herself stopping to listen
as he sang the song that she remembered him writing, the full moon
over the lake, the crickets chirping, the pretty girl beside
him.
    One he’d written when they were together.
He’d played it for her the morning after they’d spent most of the
night making out on the hood of his car under said moonlight. Son
of a bitch. He had to know she’d remember. What was he trying to
do? Manipulate her was what, but manipulate her into doing what?
Going to bed with him again? Why? He could have any girl he
wanted.
    She kept her back to him, not wanting him to
see how he affected her. But she couldn’t drown out his voice.
    The floor beneath her vibrated as he broke
into the song that had made him a star, the party anthem about
drinking, playing pool and picking up women. It was a catchy song
and she found herself moving in step to the music. Damn him.
    “Take this to Maddox,” Quinn shouted at her
over the music, passing her a bottle of pop and nodding in the
direction of the stage.
    “I have enough tables.”
    Quinn glowered. “Too busy to be shy here,
Beth. Take him the damned drink.”
    “Fine.” She set the tray down on the bar and
let it clatter. “My other order better be ready when I get
back.”
    She snatched the bottle by the neck and
charged through the crowd to deliver it. At least he hadn’t
backslid, but what would people think about a man who sang about
whiskey drinking a carbonated beverage? She slipped and slid
between the people circling him and held out the pop silently when
she reached him. Damn, he looked even better than he sounded, sweat
dampening his hair around the edges of his cowboy hat,