Bluestone Song

  Bluestone Song

  By

  M.J. Frederick

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by MJ Fredrick

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

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  Dedication

  To Dad and Sue

  Thanks for everything!

  Prologue

  Maddox Bradley blinked his eyes open and peered through broken glass. A moment passed before he processed what he was seeing—spider-webbed windshield, crumpled hood, tree bark. Shit. He’d wrecked his car. Cautiously, he sat back, relieving the bite of the seatbelt into his shoulder.

  His first thought was to check his hands. He stretched them in front of him and flexed his fingers. Thank God, no pain. He’d still be able to play guitar.

  Red and blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror. A glance told him three emergency vehicles were behind him. He jumped when someone appeared at his door, banging on the intact passenger window. Moving slowly, because damn, he hurt all over, he reached for the handle and shoved it open. A flashlight blinded him.

  “Mr. Bradley? You all right?” the young female officer asked.

  Maddox groaned inwardly. Too much to hope someone wouldn’t recognize him. “Not sure.”

  “You been drinking tonight, sir?”

  And too much to hope whoever recognized him wouldn’t know his past. “No, ma’am.” While the lie had come to him easily back in the day, this time it was the God’s honest truth.

  She kept the flashlight trained on him a moment longer, assessing, he thought, until she moved aside for the paramedics to get him out of the car. He got one last look at his baby, the Audi convertible he’d bought himself on his one-year anniversary of being sober.

  Ironic they’d think he’d crashed it because he was drunk.

  Chapter One

  Beth Lapointe was working the lunch shift when Maddox Bradley walked into Quinn’s Bar and Grill in Bluestone, Minnesota. She’d just turned away from Dale Simmons, the town doctor, smiling and warm from the flirtation with the handsome doctor and stopped short when her past appeared in front of her.

  Maddox looked better than ever, lines fanning from those whiskey brown eyes, a healing scar beside his right eyebrow, straight brown hair combed neatly, his widow’s peak more pronounced, shoulders broad beneath a crisp white shirt, stomach flat into his Levi’s. She didn’t let her gaze slide any lower. He removed the cream-colored Stetson that had become his signature in a slow gesture, like he might have done if he came face to face with a panther and didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

  Smart man.

  The titter of conversation told her Quinn’s customers recognized the country singer. She doubted they understood his connection to her. She doubted he’d even known she was here. He’d probably just come in to talk to Quinn. Ballsy, since he’d bailed on the concert he was supposed to have given Memorial Day and cost the town a ton of money.

  “Beth,” he said in that smooth quiet voice she’d heard hundreds of times when she tortured herself by listening to him in interviews with the likes of Katie Couric and Barbara Walters. Yes, one of the Ten Most Fascinating People was standing in her bar, in her path. Funny, since he hadn’t been able to get out of her way fast enough fourteen years ago.

  “You’re late,” she said, weaving around him to get her plates lined in the pass-through.

  He pivoted to follow, hat in hand, head bent, contrite. “I’m here to make it up to you.”

  “You have nothing to make up to me. Bluestone was counting on you to play Memorial Day weekend. I told them you wouldn’t come.”

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to come back. It was a scheduling issue.” He almost sounded serious.

  She wanted to spin on him, lay into him about letting everyone down, demand to know the truth about the car accident a few weeks ago, the one that had been all over the tabloids, demanding to know if he was drinking again, but they’d already drawn enough attention with him following her around like a whipped dog. Instead she said, “I have to get back to work. He’s the one you need to talk to.” She jabbed a thumb at Quinn, who watched them through narrowed eyes, hands braced on the bar. When Maddox turned his head, she picked up a tray and headed for the pass-through.

  She loaded the plates on the tray, not daring to watch Maddox shake hands with Quinn, not daring to register Dale’s reaction to the whole thing. She pasted a smile on her face and headed out to deliver the food.

  She felt Maddox’s gaze follow her. God, why did he have to look so good, sound so good, smell so good? That was something she hadn’t been able to tell from TV, that he’d smell the same as he had that night he’d talked her into the back of his rusted-out Buick, that warm, clean, male scent that made her want to bury her face in his neck.

  Her body tingled with remembered pleasure, an experience not often repeated in the past fourteen years. She had to occupy her thoughts elsewhere. She looked around for customers who needed service. Why couldn’t he have come in earlier, when they were busier? Dale was watching her, eyes hooded. He always could see more than she wanted him to. No one could know Maddox was her weakness. She couldn’t afford to have any.

  She shifted her attention to Quinn, trying to read his body language. He was tense as he leaned against the bar to listen to Maddox, who angled his head. So she wasn’t learning anything there. She wished he’d tell Maddox to beat it, but that was unreasonable. They needed Maddox, his fame, to draw tourists back to Bluestone.

  But she was being ridiculous. Maddox was a busy man, a star. He probably had a concert tour and an album to record. He wouldn’t stay around Bluestone. She was worrying for nothing.

  She got home at eight to the sound of crying and the smell of a dirty diaper. Great.

  Where was her sister? Beth made her way down the narrow hall to the nursery—ha, grand name for the tiniest bedroom in the tiny house—where Jonas was on his back in the crib, flailing his legs and arms angrily. With a grunt of frustration, she lifted his rigid little body and carried him to the changing table. He continued to scream as she struggled to change him, remembering at the last minute to shield his little penis with the diaper before he peed on her. His cries echoed off the thin walls, and she worried the neighbors would call—or worse, already had. By the redness of Jacob’s face and the wetness on his cheeks and the neck of his Onesie, he’d been crying awhile.

  Once she had him clean and dressed, she lifted him to her shoulder and rubbed his back as he continued to wail in her ear. He was too far gone for an easy fix. Even feeding him right now would only make him sick. She jounced him and turned toward her sister’s room.

  Where her teenaged sister Linda was asleep on her stomach, arms thrown over her head. Beth’s gaze flicked to the second-hand nightstand and the empty beer bottles there. Beth’s heart sank. Not again. Where had she gotten the alcohol this time? Beth lifted a foot to nudge the mattress a couple of times. Linda grunted but settled deeper. Beth was about to kick her sister’s foot when the knock sounded at the door.

  Still trying to calm Jonas, she went to answer and saw her neighbor Loretta Givens standing on the tiny front porch, brow furrowed beneath her blonde bangs.

  “I’m sorry, Loretta. Has he been crying long?”

  “A good half hour, I’m afraid. Where’s Linda?”

  “Asleep, poor kid.” Even as
Beth lied, she hated herself for it. “I’m so sorry he bothered you.”

  Loretta’s lips pursed. “It’s not just that. I thought you should know she had some friends over just after noon.”

  On a school day. Of course. Beth struggled to keep her expression neutral, not to let her neighbor see her despair. “Friends.”

  “Boys, from the sound of it. Lots of laughing and loud music. I think they were drinking.”

  Beth’s stomach dropped. Dealing with Linda’s drinking was one thing, the neighbors knowing about it was another. She’d become Linda’s legal guardian eleven years ago, but still worried they could still take Linda away from her. And Loretta just stood on the porch waiting for Beth to say something. What she could say, she didn’t know.

  “I appreciate that, Loretta. I’m going to deal with it, I promise, but I need to get Jonas calmed down.” She reached for the door to close it.

  “I know you’re doing your best, Beth. But I think you need help with Linda, and with little Jonas. She’s too much for you.”

  That Loretta voiced Beth’s own fears didn’t endear the woman to her. She’d been raising Linda for the past fourteen years, and none of it had been easy, but the last two years had been damn near impossible. She should have insisted Linda give the baby up for adoption as planned, but Linda had seen her son’s face and pleaded with Beth to let her keep him. Beth had had power to do so little in Linda’s life that she’d relented. She should have known Linda would go back to drinking.

  Just like their father.

  “I’ll look into what I can do,” Beth said as Jonas reared back in his fury. “I’m sorry, Loretta, but I need to take care of him right now. I appreciate you telling me.”

  Feeling like the rudest person in the world, she closed the door and heaved a deep breath as she carried Jonas into the kitchen. She put him in his bouncy chair and strapped him in, giving the chair a gentle tap to rock it while she got his bottle. She knew he’d spit it all up if she didn’t calm him down, so found a pacifier, rinsed it under the hot water and plugged it in his mouth. That gave her about a moment of blessed silence before he realized it wasn’t his bottle and spit it out. The room filled with his wails again. She switched the stove on and turned to comfort him when another knock sounded at the door.

  With a huff, she unbuckled Jonas, carried him to the door and swung it open, ready to tell Loretta just where to go.

  But Loretta didn’t stand there. No, Maddox Bradley did, hat in hand, head dipped, eyes crinkled—until he saw the baby perched on her shoulder. If she hadn’t been so frazzled, she would have thought his blank expression hilarious. He recovered quickly, though.

  “I thought it was the TV. Yours?”

  Trying to soothe her own nerves at seeing him standing on her front porch like he’d never gone away, she rubbed a hand up and down Jonas’s tiny tense back. The baby certainly wouldn’t calm down if he sensed she was upset. “My nephew. What are you doing here, Maddox?”

  “I came to talk to you.”

  She placed her hand on the door, a signal for him to leave. “As you can see, this isn’t a good time.”

  Maddox angled his head and narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s hungry and mad.” She stepped back into the house and closed the door slightly, since he didn’t take the hint.

  Instead, he moved into the house. “Here.” He held out his hands, fingers curved toward the infant.

  She tightened her grip on Jonas, turning her body away as she focused on his hands. “When was the last time you held a baby?”

  “My sisters have six between them.”

  His voice had grown slightly rougher with age, and skidded right along her libido. Damn him. As if his lean good looks and her too-good memory didn’t do that enough.

  He continued to hold his hands out, expectantly. She considered a moment, then, shoulders slumping and too tired to argue, she let him lift Jonas from her, surprised at how easy the transfer was, how confident he seemed. He made a gentle, crooning sound as he turned Jonas in those big hands and nestled him against his shoulder. For a moment, Beth allowed herself to watch Maddox’s long fingers trace soothing patterns on Jonas’s back for a moment before she jerked her gaze away and turned to prepare the bottle.

  Jonas’s cries softened. She didn’t think he was wearing out, since he never had. She looked over her shoulder to see Maddox had shifted the infant so his face was turned into Maddox’s neck, where he snuffled and grasped Maddox’s shirt in his tiny fist. Maddox’s head tilted down, sheltering the baby, and Beth’s heart gave a betraying kick. How dare he come into her house and make her remember all the dreams she’d once had about the two of them?

  Removing the bottle she knew wasn’t quite ready, she held out her hands for the baby. The sooner she took Jonas back, the sooner Maddox would leave, taking the warm memories with him.

  “I can do it,” he said in that raspy tone that had millions of females around the world melting at his feet.

  Before she knew what he was doing, he plucked the bottle from her hand and shifted Jonas into the crook of his arm with some practice. Her gaze shot to his face. Sensing her attention, he offered a slanted smile, then looked back at Jonas.

  “You don’t have a kid out there somewhere, do you?”

  “If I did, I’d know about it.” He nudged Jonas’s lips with the nipple. Jonas opened his mouth like a greedy baby bird, took a couple of swallows and started coughing. Maddox removed the bottle and shifted the baby again, rocking him gently, keeping that voice low and calm so that Jonas forgot to cry, and Maddox inserted the bottle again.

  “Why’s that?”

  Maddox’s eyes crinkled a bit when he glanced up at her. “Women who think they’ve had a musician’s baby usually come forward.”

  Because he had money. Of course. Of all the scandals she’d heard about him, she hadn’t heard about a baby. And yes, she’d been following him enough to know. She knew of all the parties and drunken incidents and stints in rehab. It was best he’d left Bluestone, left her behind.

  The house became eerily quiet except for Jonas’s mad suckling. Some of the tension eased from Beth’s shoulders.

  “The house looks good,” he said, looking around and taking a seat on the backless barstool.

  “Amazing what a coat of paint and new curtains will do.” Anxiety returned. Her life was almost identical to what it had been when he’d left. She hated that it made her feel inadequate.

  “Where’s your sister?” he asked, shifting on the barstool to rest the arm holding Jonas on the counter. The bottle popped loose and Jonas protested.

  “Asleep.”

  Maddox teased Jonas’s lips with the nipple and the infant responded. Maddox returned his attention to her, seeing too much, as he always had. She’d once loved him for that, because she hadn’t had to tell him what was going on at home. He’d reason it out. He wouldn’t say anything, but he’d give her what she needed anyway.

  He hadn’t lost the touch. “She must’ve been tired to sleep through that.”

  Beth hated defending her sister, but Linda’s problems were no one’s business but their family’s. “You know, going to school, being a single mom, that takes a lot out of you.”

  He flashed a grin. “I don’t actually know.”

  Right. He hadn’t been a great student, had barely finished high school before he took off into the great wide world.

  “Yeah, well, Linda is learning the hard way.”

  “Looks like you are, too.”

  She smoothed her rumpled damp shirt and wished she’d had time to at least take off her shoes. “What are you doing here, Maddox?”

  He lifted Jonas to his shoulder and rubbed his back. “I thought we might get a moment to talk.”

  She twisted the towel around her wrists until her fingers were numb. She didn’t want to talk with anyone, especially him. She was still off-balance from his arrival and Linda’s drama. She needed to curl up in a dark co
rner and process it all, not talk it out. “About what? We don’t have anything to talk about.”

  He tucked his chin back as if she’d wounded him. “I just thought I’d see how your life was. It’s been a while.”

  Without the baby in her arms, she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Watching him hold Jonas with all that self-assurance set her nerves on edge. She turned to clean up the kitchen—something else Linda was supposed to do.

  “Beth, you’ve been working all day. Why don’t you sit down and take it easy?”

  Her pride kept her from snapping that she didn’t have that luxury. “I will when I get done here.”

  She turned on the hot water, aware she wasn’t being a great hostess. But she hadn’t invited him, had she? She loaded the cheese-crusted plates into the soapy water, her shoulders growing tighter.

  He made a sound of distress, and she turned to see that Jonas had spit up on Maddox’s no-doubt expensive shirt. She reached for the baby, snatching up a burp cloth from the nearby table, swiping the baby’s mouth and stopping herself before she applied the same technique to the shirt.

  She straightened and placed the burp cloth on the counter behind her. “Take off your shirt and I’ll wash it for you.” She placed Jonas into the bouncy chair, buckling him in. She turned back to see Maddox had unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off to reveal a white undershirt, revealing sculpted arms and a chest broader than it had been that night in the back seat of his car. She went absolutely still, her mouth dry, her libido leaping to life after a long dormancy. His gaze flicked to hers and she looked away quickly, but not before she saw that damned smug grin flash across his face.

  His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist as she reached for his shirt. The jolt rocketed to her toes, and she used all her self-control not to let him see her reaction. She wadded her fingers in the fabric and twisted toward the sink. The chair was in her way and she stumbled. He caught her arm and she twisted again, bracing her hands against his chest, off balance.