Denver: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

attendees.
    The violin case swung along next to me as I headed to the section of parking lot where some of the artists and performers who hadn’t made it into the actual fair had parked themselves. The only other music was a tired, almost mournful sounding accordion played by a heavyset, older man who looked close to passing out from the direct sunlight showering down on his mostly bald head.
    I stopped to listen for a few minutes. He glanced down and grinned at the case in my hand. Street musicians had a culture of their own. Most hung out in the same places and met in the same coffee houses to talk about the craft and the music. For a short spell of time, we’d moved to New York and I’d managed to make friends with a group of street musicians who played on various corners around town. They were a fun mix of friends. Ginger and Tad, a twenty-something couple, had traveled to New York from Texas, on foot. Tad played amazing, homespun folk songs on his guitar and Ginger caught the attention of every passerby with her beautiful voice. At that time, they were homeless but quite content living off the donations they earned from passing listeners. There were so many things I’d envied about their simple existence  that I’d often fantasized about running away to do the same. From New York, Mom, Harold and I had gone on to live in London for six months. I’d never heard from Ginger and Tad again. I liked to think they were still just as happy and free.
    I tossed a five dollar bill into the accordion player’s jar and moved on. While the man looked close to the end of his day’s performance with his beet red cheeks and sweaty brow, I didn’t want to disrupt his show with my own music.
    I walked to the other side of the lot and found an empty spot to stand. If I angled my head just right, I had a crisp view of the water and the sand. The beach was dotted with people out to enjoy the beautiful weather and the delicious treats being sold from the food trucks.
    The clamor of the nearby street fair was probably just loud enough to muffle the violin’s sound, but I was all right with that. I opened the latches and lifted Stuart from his case. He felt light and lively in my hand. It was silly, but it always seemed that the violin was as anxious to make music as I was to produce the sounds. Once Stuart was tucked securely under my chin, we became connected spiritually and physically. Stuart had been on this earth for a lot longer than me and he’d had plenty of owners, but I liked to believe that he had just been biding his time, waiting for me to grow up and have fingers long enough to play.
    The picturesque scenery and the people and noise faded away as I lifted the bow to the strings.

Chapter 7
    Denver
    Rodeo lifted his paper basket of food. “Deep fried macaroni and cheese. Who knew?”
    I didn’t lift my head from the tree I was sitting against, but I peered at him over my sunglasses. “Pretty much everyone. I mean if you take one of the world’s favorite foods and drop it into frying oil, you’re going to have something good. Even if it is clogging up every one of your arteries with each bite.”
    “Yep, but if I have to die from substance abuse, I’d much rather off myself with deep fried mac n cheese than drugs. Much better high as far as I’m concerned.” He took another bite off the stick. “And cheaper.”
    Sayler leaned back on her hands and turned her face higher toward the sun. “I hear music. It sounds like some Celtic tune being played on a violin. Makes we want to get up and dance.” She remained perfectly still. “Only this warm sun is making me lazy.”
    Cole had propped himself against the brick wall separating the beach from the bike path. Kensington was leaning against him sipping a lemonade. She looked in the direction of the music and lifted her sunglasses. “Whoever is playing, they’ve gathered a pretty big crowd.”
    Sayler sat up. “That’s it. Now my curiosity has got the best of