Midsummer Night's Mischief Read Online Free PDF Page A

of our favorite hangs in Edindale. The Loose was a hip and relaxed scene in the early evening, great for predinner dates or catching up with friends. Around nine o’clock it became a popular venue for indie rock bands, and by the end of the night it was a hopping dance party. Farrah and I enjoyed all three aspects of the club—often on the same night.
    We’d been coming here since our grueling law school days, when we really needed to blow off steam. I had met Farrah on day one of school, at an orientation seminar. The professor had been going on and on, in dour tones, about how rigorous the competition was going to be and how our grades were going to affect “our entire professional careers.” He told us that there was room at the top firms for only 5 percent of our class and that these coveted jobs would be won only by the best, brightest, and most hardworking among us. The auditorium was quiet as a tomb. Then he told us to look around at each other and see not our classmates but our competitors—the ones who would determine if we would be winners or losers. At that moment, there was a loud snort at the back of the room. All heads turned to see this cute, sparkly blonde stand up and head for the door at the front of the room. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Houseman,” she said brightly. “See ya in the lecture hall.”
    I loved her immediately. I found her afterward and told her she was my hero. She laughed and asked if I wanted to get a beer with her. It wasn’t long after this that we decided to be study partners. When we learned we shared an eclectic taste in music, a fondness for old movies, and a love of long-distance running, we became best buds, as well.
    Oh, and in spite of her inauspicious start, Farrah graduated in the top 5 percent of our class. She worked for a huge law firm for one year and then quit to be a sales rep for a legal software company. It gave her more time to “have fun.” Everything was fun with Farrah.
    Now I was about to ask her why she and Jake were on the outs again, but I was momentarily distracted by a vision of tall, dark handsomeness near the entrance to the bar.
    â€œWhoa,” I said. “Who is that?”
    She swiveled in her chair. “Who? Rock Star over there? He looks like he just rolled out of bed, doesn’t he?”
    â€œYeah,” I sighed. I always was a sucker for the bedroom look. This guy had dark, tousled hair and a five o’clock—no, make that a six o’clock—shadow. He wore faded jeans and a navy blue music festival T-shirt that stretched perfectly over well-toned muscles—not too big, not too small. A bold tribal-style armband was tattooed around his left bicep.
    I tried not to stare, but this guy pulled my gaze like a steel magnet. Farrah laughed and waved her fingers in front of my face.
    â€œIt has been a while since you’ve dated anyone. You’ve been working too much, Kel.” She turned to check out the new dude again. “Hey, he’s talking to Jimi now,” Farrah said. Jimi Coral, an energetic guy with a goatee, was the owner of the Loose. We knew him pretty well, with us being regular customers and all.
    â€œUm, you know,” I said, rising from my seat, “I think there’s something I need to ask Jimi, like, right now. Isn’t there?”
    â€œYes. Yes, I do believe there is. And I think I see Katie and Dawn, so I’ll just catch up with you later.”
    I smiled sweetly at Farrah, and she wrinkled her nose at me and got up to join some friends at another table. She and I used to do this to each other all the time. We both understood that some opportunities were meant to be jumped on. So to speak.
    Casually, I strolled over to the other side of the bar. “Hey, Jimi,” I said.
    The two men stopped talking and turned to face me.
    â€œWhen are you gonna start singer-songwriter night again? Farrah and I were just talking about how