Free Fresh Ice by Sarah J. Bradley Page A

voice was soft, gentle, but his tight expression didn’t ease.
    Seriously, change the subject. “So what’s with all the notebooks?”
    The intense light in his eyes faded. Collier relaxed and smiled. “I’m a bit of a songwriter now.”
    “Really? That’s great. I knew you’d do something creative.”
    “Well, writing, you know, is sort of therapeutic.” He waved his hand at the stack of spiral notebooks. “I can pour my soul out and solve all sorts of problems through my songs, and get paid a little in the process.”
    “So what kind of music do you write?”
    Collier shrugged. “I’m what you’d call a traveling minstrel.”
    “I’m not sure I know what that means.”
    Collier reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a CD. “I’m in a group that travels around and sings at Renaissance Fairs and things like that. Old sailing songs, drinking songs, whatever sounds right for the whole Renaissance thing.”
    Izzy took the CD from his hand and studied it. “That sounds sort of cool.”
    “It pays the bills, and we have fun. On our down time we get to play cover songs and some original stuff at places like this. Chance,” he nodded toward the bar, “lets us play all the time. Maybe you saw us last night?”
    The hopeful tone in Collier’s voice tugged at Izzy’s heart. “I’m sorry. I must have missed you. I was here later in the evening.” She handed the CD back to him.
    “No, keep it.”
    “Really? Thanks!”
    An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Too many years, too much to talk about and neither of us knows how to start.
    “I did see that Quinn guy get up on stage. What’s his deal?”
    A shadow passed over Collier’s face. “I suppose you would wonder about him. Every woman does.”
    What could he possibly have against Quinn Murray?
    “The guy’s a complete hound. There aren’t many women in this town who don’t have his paw prints somewhere on their person.”
    “Oh, okay. I was just wondering, because…”
    “Because he’s hot?”
    Izzy laughed out loud and this time the tension between them thawed. “Col, this is so great catching up with you. I can’t believe I just wandered in here and here you are. I could talk to you all night!”
    “Don’t you have friends you’re waiting for?”
    Friends? What…oh, right. “No, don’t worry about that. I-I’ll just…oh whatever.” She giggled.
    “I have an idea.” Collier laid some bills on the table. “My band’s got a gig out of town tomorrow night, and I have to leave in the morning, but the night is ours. How about coming to dinner with me, Miss Izzy…Masters?”
    “Marks. Izzy Marks.”
    “Ah. Miss Izzy Marks come on. An evening of good food, and recalling good times. Are you up to the challenge?”
    Izzy took his hand and stood. “I believe I am.”
    Collier draped his arm over her shoulders as they left Second Chance’s.
    ***
    Quinn wasn’t surprised to find himself standing in the lower foyer of Second Chance’s. What surprised him was the cozy couple leaving as he entered.
    Was that Isabella? Was that Isabella Landry leaving with a man?
    Who was that guy? That looked like that sad singer from last night.
    A wave of jealousy washed over him. For a heartbeat, he considered following them. Thinking the better of it, he climbed the stairs. I’ve got her on the brain. That was probably nobody. I’m seeing things.
    A strong Scotch would take care of that.
    But a good strong Scotch would create a lot more problems than just seeing someone who looks like Isabella Landry.
    “Hey, Chance. How are ya?”
    “Quinn!” Chance greeted him with an energy that made Quinn nervous. “My favorite on stage performer of the week!”
    “Let’s not get nuts, Chance.”
    “Did you see the steaming hot women crawling all over the place?”
    “Every one of them in need of a decade or so of aging.”
    “You clearly weren’t looking upstairs. Those college co-eds brought their mothers. Quinn, they brought their