Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dermot-Dex

But it felt so good to get out and move around. He slipped his arm around Maddie’s waist and pulled her close. They managed to do her hair, coloring it a slightly darker tone and cutting it off at the shoulder. If it was possible, she looked more beautiful than she had before. The wavy strands tumbled around her face in a way that made it look like she’d just crawled out of bed. She wore her sunglasses and between the hair and the glasses and the discount-store dress, she definitely looked different from the rumpled runaway he’d met in the bus station the other morning, not to mention the glamorous star on the covers of her CDs.

There wasn’t a lot to see around the hotel, but they started down the wide boulevard, toward a cluster of stores and restaurants, holding hands and strolling without any purpose.

“I should have bought a swimming suit last night,” she said. “The hotel has a pool.” She looked up at the sky. “I was supposed to go into the recording studio next week to start my new album.” A sigh slipped from her lips. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Kieran glanced over at her, wondering at the series of disconnected comments. She had something on her mind, but obviously wasn’t ready to talk to him about it, so she was dancing around the subject.

“What’s wrong? You look worried.”

Her shoulders rose in a shrug. “I almost called my mother this morning before you woke up. I was feeling guilty. She’s probably worried and we’ve never gone this long without speaking to each other. But I’m afraid to call her—I don’t want her to figure out where I am. I just need a little more time.”

“A little more time? You sound like you’re thinking about going back.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples. “Oh, I don’t know,” she cried. “There are so many people that count on me. If I don’t work, then they don’t work. The thing is, if I make this new album, then I have to go out on tour to promote it. You can’t make an album without touring. So if I’m going to quit, this is the time.”

He studied her shrewdly, smoothing a windblown strand of hair from her eyes. “Do you really hate singing that much? You’re obviously really good at it, Maddie. You couldn’t have sold all those albums if you’re not good.”

“I do love to sing. But not to such huge audiences. And with the band and all the lights and craziness. There are so many ways things can go wrong and there’s so much pressure to be perfect. Do you know how much people pay for tickets? So, of course they expect a perfect show.” She grabbed his hand and wove her fingers through his. “And if I’m not perfect, the press won’t leave it alone. So many people are depending on me for—”

Kieran stopped her rant with a kiss, his lips soft on hers. “I understand.”

Maddie smiled. “I believe you’re the first person who does.”

They found a coffee shop close by and Maddie ordered a frozen mocha before they continued their walk to a small strip mall. She stopped in front of a pawnshop window and peered inside, still sipping on her coffee.

“See anything interesting?”

“Let’s go in,” Maddie said. “I want to look at that guitar.”

Kieran opened the door for her and they stepped inside the cool interior. The place was filled, floor to ceiling, with items for sale. Maddie pulled the guitar from the window display and carefully examined it while Kieran wandered over to the electronics.

As she talked to the elderly salesman, Kieran watched her, admiring her slender body and beautiful features. If she thought that cutting her hair would make her less noticeable, she was completely wrong. She was still stunning. In truth, every time he looked at her, he found something new that he liked.

He turned back to the electronics and peered into a glass case at a portable GPS. He had one just like it at home but he could use another to put on his boat as a back up. And this was a decent price. Unfortunately, he didn’t have more than seventy dollars to his name.

Kieran chuckled to himself. He had barely seventy dollars and it didn’t bother him in the least. He wasn’t worried about money or time or even getting to Bitney, Kentucky. That would happen when it happened.

“Can I show you anything?” the salesman asked, appearing behind the counter.

“Yeah, I’d like to look at that GPS.”

The salesman took it out of the case and Kieran examined it.

“What is that?”

He turned to find Maddie standing next to him. He handed it to her. “It’s a global positioning system.”

A frown furrowed her brow. “I have no idea what that is.”

“It tells you exactly where you are in the world. Latitude and longitude. Right down to a few feet either way.”

“Does it tell you where you’re going to be tomorrow or the next day?” she asked.

Kieran chuckled. “No. It doesn’t predict the future.”

“Then what good is it? I know where I am now. I’m in Topeka, Kansas.”

“It’s a good thing to have in case you get lost and you need to find your way back home.”

Maddie slipped her arms around his. “Maybe we do need it.”

“Or maybe it’s good to get lost once in a while,” Kieran countered. “What kind of adventure is this if you always know where you’re going?”

Kieran handed the GPS back to the salesman. “Thanks, but I’m going to pass on it,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Are you going to buy anything?” he asked Maddie.

“I’m going to take the Martin guitar,” Maddie said, nodding. “It has a case, right?”

“A hard-shell case. It’s in decent condition.”

“Good. I’ll give you five hundred for both.”

The salesman thought about the offer for a long moment, then nodded. “Deal.” Maddie turned to Kieran and wiggled her fingers. “Cash, please.”

“I thought you were giving up music,” Kieran said.

“And I thought it would be nice to have on the train. I can teach you how to play.”

Kieran held up his hands. “Oh, no. I have absolutely no musical talent. Beyond singing in the car with the radio, I’m pretty much a hopeless case.”

“A lot of people start out that way,” she said. “I happen to be a very good teacher.”

“If you teach me how to play the guitar, what am I supposed to teach you?”

She thought about it, then smiled. “You can teach me how to drive,” she said.

“We don’t have a car.”

“We’ll figure that out. We could always rent one. A convertible. I’ve always wanted one of those old Cadillac’s with the tail fins. You know, a classic sixties car.”

Kieran looked around. “They don’t have any cars here,” he said.

“Actually we do deal with cars, as well,” the salesman said. “There’s a lot out back. I could show you a few if you like.”

“No, no, no,” Kieran said. “We’re taking the train.”

“We’re taking the train,” Maddie said, nodding in agreement.

They paid for the guitar and walked back out into the midafternoon heat. Kieran took the guitar from her hand. “I’m going to be your roadie,” he said.

“If you were my roadie, I would have broken one of the cardinal rules of touring.”

“And what is that?”

“Don’t sleep with the roadies,” she said, laughing. “You never would have gotten past my mother. She approves all hiring on tours. She would have known that you’d be too tempting to resist, so you never would have gotten the job.” She paused. “It’s funny, but we probably would have never met if we hadn’t run into each other at that bus station. I might have decided to fly. Or your bus could have arrived late. And yet all the fates conspired to—”