Read That Girl's the One I Love for Free Online Page B

venue.
    How long had it been since she’d had the money to attend something like this? She couldn’t remember. One of the beauties of living in Asheville had been free access to the arts; there was always something going on: an art show, a music concert, something to broaden horizons and bring some creativity into life. She’d been much less inclined to head out into Pittsburgh’s social scene. Besides, her hermit life had spawned her own inspiration, her novel manuscript, and she devoted herself to it. The attention had paid off. She was fine.
    She was fine.
    I’m fine.
    Her reassurance sounded hollow even to herself, but she set it firmly in her mind, like armor or a shield. The auditorium filled up, and she let the usher show her to a seat in the tenth row, on the aisle. Just far enough from the stage that she’d have a great view but still be lost in the crowd. Perfect.
    The buzz around her increased till it filled her ears. She sat, fidgeting with her pad, making a few notes, jotting down things overheard, then let her mind blank into thinking about the next chapter of her story. Now that Dayla had thrown out the cheating husband, it was time for her to do something brave, to strike out on her own, to leave her family and friends behind, and…what?
    To take up a new career, start over in school. Hmm. Boring.
    To win the lottery and become an instant zillionaire. Hmm. Too contrived and unbelievable.
    Jump on a tramp steamer to Alaska with nothing but a suitcase and a one-way ticket in hand.
    Certainly had romantic possibilities. She liked the idea of her heroine throwing caution and even common sense to the wind and going for it all. It was fiction, after all.
    She considered the implications for her character, focused on that, ignoring the crowd around her, until the lights went down. Mike Chandler came onto the stage. He made a plug for the station, talked about himself for several minutes, a topic he was clearly fond of. Then he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Arran Lake!”
    The crowd roared its approval as Chandler scooted offstage. The spots focused on one man, guitar slung around his thin body, walking to center stage. He hadn’t changed much from those days in Asheville, his sun-streaked blond hair still long enough to curl, his eyes still that startling blue. His shirt was a light blue, his jeans comfortable and well-worn. He surveyed the gathered fans, looked over the empty front row.
    “Good evening, Pittsburgh!” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He smiled as some woman called, “I love you, Arran!” from the back. “I love you, too, darlin’,” he replied, hesitating only a moment before giving his drummer a nod. The band swung into “That Girl’s the One I Love,” and the concert was off in a dizzying whirl of sound. Accompanied by a proper backup group and expensive equipment, Arran’s firm baritone sent shivers up Leyla’s spine. She closed her eyes to absorb every note, every word, and imagined he was singing only to her.
    At the end of the song, as promised, a dozen ticket numbers were called. Thrilled fans hurried up to take their front row seats, each receiving a CD of Arran’s music to take home. The routine continued, and each time, Arran studied the whole row, his intent gaze fading as he finished, leaving a faint smile. He’d sing the next song, then the winners would be replaced by a new set of delighted faces. The contest had generated a large pool of adoring fans, and the group from which the grand prize winner would be pulled grew to over three hundred, by Leyla’s count. For just a moment, she let herself wish to be picked, but she knew how her luck ran. She was glad just to sit in the audience and bask in the warmth of Arran’s familiar voice. Wishing was for someone else, not her.
    Lost in the magic, she hardly noticed how time passed, until the break before the last song came. As the final tickets were called, she sighed, wistful. The evening