Bluestone Song by MJ Fredrick Page B

perpetrators
laugh. She needed to make friends with security, especially after
last night, because the men in Bluestone would never do something
like that. If they didn’t fear her wrath, they feared Quinn’s. But
here, she was on her own.
    Why did guys think girls liked their asses
pinched anyway?
    She lowered her tray to the bar and leaned
against it for a moment to get her weight off the cursed heels.
    “Miss Lapointe!” a nearby manager—in
practical flats, Beth noticed—snapped. “You need to stand
straight.”
    Wow, talk about making her feel like a
five-year-old. She straightened, slowly, and thought about the
tips. Already she’d made more in four hours than she made in two
nights at Quinn’s, even with Maddox playing. With any luck, she
could finish up here by fall and go back to Quinn’s. But she knew
better than to count her chickens before they hatched. As she
waited for the bartender to fill her order, she looked around the
glass-and-chrome bar. Glasses hung overhead, upside down,
reflecting the blue and green lights hung between them. People
occupied every barstool on this Saturday night, some with heads
bent together, others looking about, clearly hoping to meet
someone.
    And there was a hat, a battered gimme with
the name of a boat motor company on it.
    Her shoulders snapped straight and she looked
into the eyes of Maddox Bradley, who sat on the opposite side of
the bar. He lifted his glass in greeting. She would have approached
him to demand to know what he was doing here, but the bartender had
finished loading her tray and was looking at her strangely. She
hefted it and headed off.
    Orders kept her running for a little while
longer, but when she looked up, Maddox hadn’t moved. She managed
not to hobble as she approached.
    “Shouldn’t you be playing at Quinn’s?”
    “I finished a couple of hours ago. Thought
I’d drive over and see the place. It hasn’t changed at all since I
was a kid.”
    Liar. She knew exactly why he was here,
checking up on her. But she didn’t call him on it, because well,
his presence sent a charge through her. She couldn’t decide just
what emotion accompanied that charge. Instead, she scowled at her
surroundings. “I don’t think it’s changed much since then.”
    “Nope.” He took a pull on his pop. “What time
do you get off?”
    “Three.”
    He nodded. “All right.”
    “Are you going to wait?”
    “Yep.”
    She should send him on his way. There was no
real reason for him to stay. “We have security.” She mentally
kicked herself for the lack of conviction in her voice. The truth
was, having him here made her feel like she was back at
Quinn’s.
    “Which did you so much good last night.
Besides, it ends at the property line. Don’t worry. I’ll just
follow you home, make sure you get in, and be on my way.”
    She nodded. “Thank you.”
    That must have surprised him, because he drew
back a bit, looked her up and down. “You holding up?”
    “I’m good.” And she couldn’t resist putting
the smallest wiggle in her step when she turned away.
    ***
    “Aren’t you worried someone will recognize
you?” she asked when he walked her to her car.
    He tapped the bill of his ugly cap. “Not
really. People don’t pay that much attention, plus who would expect
to see me here?”
    “Anyone who’s heard you’re playing across the
lake.”
    “Yeah, well, it hasn’t happened yet.”
    “And you’re going to get fat drinking all
those pops.”
    He patted his belly. “I managed to keep it
off when I was drinking. I think I’ll be okay. Wouldn’t want to
turn you off.”
    “Is that what you’re trying for here? To turn
me on? Because I don’t have time for that.”
    He stopped at her car and turned toward her,
not quite pinning her, but close enough to make her pulse trip.
    “I’m here to look out for you. Now, if you
want to come back to my place and fall asleep on the couch with me,
I wouldn’t object.” He offered her that sexy, canted