Country Crooner (Christian Romance) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Rebecca Lynn Clayson
easier to close the doors and walk away, and she was inclined to follow the path of least resistance.
She stood up from her father's bed and decided to head back downstairs to get a snack. She found some leftovers in the fridge from one of the casseroles that a neighbor had dropped off, heated a serving in the microwave, poured herself a glass of juice, and sat down at the table to eat.
As she was chewing her first bite, she heard a knock at the door and got up to see who was there. Probably another neighbor, stopping by to express their condolences, Chelsea thought to herself. Out of habit, she peeked through the peephole of the front door to see who was out there.
She could see a tall guy standing on the doorstep, with thick dark hair and baby blue eyes. He was looking off to the side, and she could see the strong line of his jaw and the five o'clock shadow of not having shaved in a day or two. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties-- and aging well, with a masculine look and the perfect balance between maturity and youth.
He was wearing clothing that was typical of the small town: a pair of fitted wrangler jeans, a plaid button-up shirt filled out by well-built shoulders and arms, a pair of worn boots, and he held a cowboy hat in one hand.
This guy looked vaguely familiar, and as she peered closer, she realized that she recognized the face. It was Kurt Arbuckle, she knew him from high school. They were never friends because he was two years older than she was, but she'd seen him around the school. In fact, every girl had seen him around the school. He was the type of guy that every high school girl went home and dreamed about at night. Some of her friends referred to him as "Mr. Popular."
Kurt's family moved into the area when he was a senior in high school. Even though he was the new guy, he quickly made a lot of friends and became the heartthrob of the small high school. He always seemed to be off in his own world with his buddies, and didn't pay much attention to the people who weren't within his social circle.
Chelsea knew that he had pursued a music career after graduation, but didn't know what had happened to him because he fell out of the spotlight a few years ago. She was surprised to see him outside because she had never seen him around town when she was home visiting each summer during the Fourth of July.
Chelsea opened the door, curious to see why he was knocking.
"Hi there! I'm assuming you’re Chelsea, right? I'm Kurt Arbuckle." He reached out in greeting to shake her hand, and noticed her acrylic nails and leather house slippers.
"Yes, I'm Chelsea ! It's nice to see you Kurt; I didn't know that you still lived here. It's been a long time."
"I'm sorry," he stammered, "have we met before? I knew your father, but I’ve never seen you around here. He mentioned that he had a daughter and told me a little bit about you, but I was pretty sure that we'd never met in person."
"Well, we kind of met in high school. I was a sophomore when you moved here your senior year. We were in the same home economics class for a semester."
Kurt thought for a moment and tried to remember talking with her in high school. It had been too long, and he couldn't place her in any of his high school memories.
"It's hard to remember everyone that I met that year, because I was new to the school. I do remember that home economics class, though. It was a fun class."
"Not a big deal, we were only in one study group and did our final project together." Chelsea said jokingly, but half-serious. Even though their group had spent a few hours working together on their final project, she wasn't surprised that he didn't remember her, because he always seemed to be self-absorbed during class.
"I have the worst memory, and can never remember small details like that. Plus, my attendance wasn't great the last semester before graduation." He paused, and they stood there for a moment in uncomfortable silence. The breeze
She stood up from her father's bed and decided to head back downstairs to get a snack. She found some leftovers in the fridge from one of the casseroles that a neighbor had dropped off, heated a serving in the microwave, poured herself a glass of juice, and sat down at the table to eat.
As she was chewing her first bite, she heard a knock at the door and got up to see who was there. Probably another neighbor, stopping by to express their condolences, Chelsea thought to herself. Out of habit, she peeked through the peephole of the front door to see who was out there.
She could see a tall guy standing on the doorstep, with thick dark hair and baby blue eyes. He was looking off to the side, and she could see the strong line of his jaw and the five o'clock shadow of not having shaved in a day or two. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties-- and aging well, with a masculine look and the perfect balance between maturity and youth.
He was wearing clothing that was typical of the small town: a pair of fitted wrangler jeans, a plaid button-up shirt filled out by well-built shoulders and arms, a pair of worn boots, and he held a cowboy hat in one hand.
This guy looked vaguely familiar, and as she peered closer, she realized that she recognized the face. It was Kurt Arbuckle, she knew him from high school. They were never friends because he was two years older than she was, but she'd seen him around the school. In fact, every girl had seen him around the school. He was the type of guy that every high school girl went home and dreamed about at night. Some of her friends referred to him as "Mr. Popular."
Kurt's family moved into the area when he was a senior in high school. Even though he was the new guy, he quickly made a lot of friends and became the heartthrob of the small high school. He always seemed to be off in his own world with his buddies, and didn't pay much attention to the people who weren't within his social circle.
Chelsea knew that he had pursued a music career after graduation, but didn't know what had happened to him because he fell out of the spotlight a few years ago. She was surprised to see him outside because she had never seen him around town when she was home visiting each summer during the Fourth of July.
Chelsea opened the door, curious to see why he was knocking.
"Hi there! I'm assuming you’re Chelsea, right? I'm Kurt Arbuckle." He reached out in greeting to shake her hand, and noticed her acrylic nails and leather house slippers.
"Yes, I'm Chelsea ! It's nice to see you Kurt; I didn't know that you still lived here. It's been a long time."
"I'm sorry," he stammered, "have we met before? I knew your father, but I’ve never seen you around here. He mentioned that he had a daughter and told me a little bit about you, but I was pretty sure that we'd never met in person."
"Well, we kind of met in high school. I was a sophomore when you moved here your senior year. We were in the same home economics class for a semester."
Kurt thought for a moment and tried to remember talking with her in high school. It had been too long, and he couldn't place her in any of his high school memories.
"It's hard to remember everyone that I met that year, because I was new to the school. I do remember that home economics class, though. It was a fun class."
"Not a big deal, we were only in one study group and did our final project together." Chelsea said jokingly, but half-serious. Even though their group had spent a few hours working together on their final project, she wasn't surprised that he didn't remember her, because he always seemed to be self-absorbed during class.
"I have the worst memory, and can never remember small details like that. Plus, my attendance wasn't great the last semester before graduation." He paused, and they stood there for a moment in uncomfortable silence. The breeze
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