His Melody (13 page)

Before Melody could respond, Donnie said, “Probably would have been better if she didn’t work for such a tyrant. Had that poor thing doing back breaking labor.”

Austin glared across the table. “I believe it might cause you physical pain to keep your mouth shut for five whole seconds in a row.”

“Aw, don’t be so tetchy.” Donnie rubbed Nina’s shoulder. “You see how he is? How he treats his only brother in the world?”

He’d be better off not having any brothers at all then.

Melody smiled and said, “It was good exercise. And with all this good eating I’m doing here, I need all the exercise I can get. I need to get back to running.”

Before he realized he was saying it, the words came out of Austin’s mouth. “I go running every morning at six. If you want to get up that early, you’re welcome to come along.”

“I don’t know if I could keep up with you.”

“Only one way to find out,” Austin said. He hadn’t realized how brazenly flirtatious their tones were until he realized that all conversation at the table—and even all eating—had stopped. Both were nearly unheard of at the Holt dinner table.

Melody’s cheeks reddened and he wanted to kiss them right where they did. “Okay,” she said. “Tomorrow. Six o’clock.”

Mom held up the breadbasket. “More cornbread, anyone?”

“Over here,” Donnie said, waving toward himself.
Of course.

Vernon said, “I would help y’all put in Melody’s engine, Austin, but I’ll be gone before it even gets here. I head out for California early tomorrow morning as soon as I load my truck.”

“I know you would, but not to worry. The three of us can handle it,” Austin said even though he would have preferred to leave Donnie out altogether.
Of everything.
If it weren’t for their mother and the way the shop had been willed to Austin, Donnie would have been fired long ago. And Donnie knew it. That was why he did everything he possibly could to tick off Austin. He liked pushing buttons, knowing Austin couldn’t do anything but get riled up.

Austin tried to remind himself that the only reason Donnie did it was that he was hurt their father had left Austin the shop. It had to be hard on Donnie to see the bad son—the son who’d always messed up everything—end up with the place he’d put his heart into and dreamed of owning one day. Still, Donnie sometimes pushed far past the limits of anyone’s patience with the exception of maybe Job. Those were the times they had it out and those times usually ended in a punch or two being thrown. Austin hated it because he knew how it upset his mom. But sometimes, he just couldn’t take Donnie’s ribbing any longer.

Donnie was obviously pushing for a punching. He wanted Austin to take a swing at him in front of Melody so she would think of Austin as a Neanderthal jerk. Not that Austin knew why Donnie wanted Melody to dislike him so much. Except for maybe the fact that Donnie didn’t want anybody at all to like Austin. Donnie would have probably danced with joy if Mom kicked Austin out of the house. As it was, Donnie had moved to the third floor when Austin came home. However, both of them knew Mom would never make either of them go anywhere.

After dinner, everybody headed out to the porch to wait for Regan. She was bringing over some watermelon for them. Austin touched Melody’s arm, and she stiffened. He moved closer to her. “Thanks for dinner. It was really good.”

“You’re welcome,” she said in a shaky tone. He wondered if he had an effect on her similar to the one she had on him. “I want to ask you something,” she said, “but I don’t want to seem like I’m prying.”

“Ask away,” Austin said, leaving his hand at her elbow. He hoped she would let New York and the notebook she’d found go. If not, he’d just have to find a way to distract her. He caressed her neck with his eyes and wondered how it would feel under his lips.

“Did you really steal the shop from Donnie?” Her brown eyes were soft and sweet, as if she didn’t want to believe such a thing.

He chuckled. “Is that what he told you?” He pushed a wisp of black hair out of her eyes.

“Did you?” She leaned closer to him.

“I guess it depends on how you want to look at it. Dad left it to me. In the will.” The heaviness of those words wiped all traces of mirth from him.

“Why would he make it sound like you stole it then?”

“Here’s a little secret that might not be so secret. Donnie pretty much hates me for everything I’ve ever done. Leaving town. Coming home. The shop. He blames me daily for ruining his life.” He left out the part about Donnie blaming him for Dad’s death because he blamed himself for it, too. He didn’t want to get into all of that with her. “Avery can stand me a little better, but we’re not close. Not anymore.” His sister had definitely taken Donnie’s side.

“Oh. Austin. I wish I had siblings, and you and yours barely talk. That must hurt. Especially with Avery being your twin.”

“Fraternal.”

“Still.”

He shrugged. “Hey, Regan’s here. That can only be her truck rumbling up the driveway. Let’s go meet her.”

They stepped off the porch and sure enough, Regan’s truck rolled up and came to a stop near the cars parked at the end of the driveway. There was more than enough watermelon for all in the back of her truck. Austin and Vernon helped Regan unload and cut it while Mom and Nina collected plates from the kitchen and then distributed them. After they were all happily eating, talking, and laughing, Regan pulled Austin to the side.

“You like her,” Regan said with a knowing smile before taking a bite of watermelon.

“She seems like an okay person.” It would have been uncomfortable to talk about his developing feelings for Melody with anyone, but it was especially uncomfortable to discuss them with Regan, his former somewhat lover. So instead of adding anything else about Melody, he took a deep bite of watermelon from the slice of it he held. Juice dribbled down his chin.

She wiped the juice away with her thumb. “It’s okay, Austin. I’m a big girl. I don’t regret what happened between us, but I know that it’s over, and it was never meant to be forever.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Austin said, the words swollen with sincerity. He thought about it, guilt-laden thoughts,
almost
every day.

She snorted. “Who’s hurt? You know my horses always come first. I don’t have enough time for a real relationship with a man. I’m too set in my ways and devoted to my horses for all that.” She looked toward Melody as she spoke, so he couldn’t see her face. She said, “But Melody. I think she could be good for you. So answer my question.”

Austin stalled. “What question?”

“Austin. Come on now. I’ve known you most of your life. This clueless routine doesn’t work with me, hon.”

“She’ll be gone as soon as her car’s fixed. A week or so from now at the most.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“The answer to your question doesn’t matter if she’s leaving soon, does it?”

“Doesn’t it?” Regan flipped her red hair over her shoulder and looked up at him with sparkling green eyes. She was beautiful, and working with the horses kept her in great shape. Still no doubt looking as good in her tight Wrangler jeans at forty-two as she had at twenty-two. Why did he have to hurt everything precious in his life? That was another good reason to leave Melody alone.

“I don’t want to hurt her. Look at her,” he said. Melody had one arm around Avery and the other around his mom and all three of them were doubled over with laughter. “She’s something special. Everyone’s seemed happier in the few days she’s been here. I don’t want to bring her down like I did—like I do everybody.”

“All I have to say is…don’t let fear make you throw away everything. You’re not a bad person. You just can’t get a break. Partly because you won’t open yourself to any opportunities for one.” She patted his shoulder.

“But if she’s going to leave soon, what kind of opportunity is that? For either of us?”

Regan shrugged, shifting a piece of green and pink rind from hand to hand. “Just be open. That’s all I’m saying. Now.” She patted his shoulder. “I’m going to get some more of this melon. This thing is just as sweet… If I have to be the one to say so, I’ve outdone myself. I’m going to have to keep on making my own fertilizer if this is the result.”

He watched her walk back over to the group, thinking about her words. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep the distance between himself and Melody. It just wasn’t a good idea to get any closer. After all, everything he touched so far in life had turned to dust.

His mind went back to Isadora, skin cold, lying on the floor of their apartment. He’d come out of a drug haze to find her sprawled out on the carpet in the living room.
Empty eyes staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing.
He should have never helped spring her out of rehab early.

He’d known then, even as he screamed into the phone for the medics to hurry after dialing 9-1-1. He’d known she was gone and that he was doomed to crush everything he cared about.

Chapter Sixteen

That night, possibly the hottest night of the summer, the air conditioning decided to conk out. It hadn’t been working right since the first night Melody moved in—the night of the huge thunderstorm. Even with the three windows in his room up and two box fans plus the ceiling fan on their highest speed, the night was hot and sticky. After tossing and turning for he didn’t know how long, Austin slammed his sheet aside and rolled out of bed. He slipped his running shorts over his boxer briefs, just in case he ran into Melody or Nina in the hall, and went down to the kitchen.

He stumbled into Melody, and she stifled a shriek. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her as their collision had knocked her off-balance. Her dark eyes, widened with surprise, were luminous in the moonlit kitchen.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be in here,” he said, his hands cupping her perfect shoulders. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over her thin nightgown. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could appreciate more, but not as much as he wanted to. His hands slid lower on her arms.

“Too hot to sleep,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“I came to get something to cool myself off with.” She held up a
popsicle
. “Grape. Want some?” She held it up to his lips.

“Sure,” he said. In that moment, with her body so close to his, he probably wouldn’t have refused a vial of poison from her. She slid the cool, sweet treat past his lips. He took a bite, and she pulled it back.

“Don’t bite,” she said.

Realizing that he hadn’t let go of her yet and very aware of the proximity of her body, he stepped back and dropped his arms to his side. He hoped she wouldn’t see just how aware of her he’d become. After all, it was pretty dark in the kitchen. Only the silver light of the moon cut through the shadowy darkness of the room.

He took a seat at the kitchen table, and she sat on top of the table in front of him.

She said, “Have you heard of a woman named Blanche Leroux?” She licked the
popsicle
in a way that had to be illegal in at least forty states and probably a few territories, too.

“The crazy woman who lives in the woods? Sure. Everybody knows her,” he said. He was much more interested in her naked legs and the way that popsicle looked against her full mouth than he was in talking about Blanche.

She pressed the
popsicle
to his lips again. “Don’t bite this time,” she said.

He obeyed. Sucking at the
popsicle
, he thought about what it would be like to press his mouth to her skin instead.

“So people think she’s crazy?” She drew the
popsicle
back.

He sat back in his chair. “I mean, everybody’s nice to her, we all humor her, but come on. She lives in a cabin in the middle of the woods, and some people say she thinks she knows magic. She just showed up here one day from Louisiana, moved into that abandoned shack on the edge of town after claiming it belonged to some of her kin, and nobody said much about it. We just let her be.”

“You don’t believe in magic, Austin Holt?”

He snorted. “No. Why? Do you?”

She slid into his lap and slipped an arm around his neck. Her fingers tickled the bottom of his earlobe. With her free hand, she held the
popsicle
between their lips. He barely noticed the cool, sticky juice dripping onto his stomach.

“I dunno. It’d be nice if it did exist,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he grunted. He didn’t have enough blood left in his head for coherent thoughts let alone words. Her thighs shifted against his, and he came to full attention. If she moved one inch in the wrong direction, she would know what she’d done to him.

She wrapped her lips around one side of the
popsicle
and he wrapped his around the other side. Lips touching, they devoured what was left of it. He tossed the stick onto the kitchen table and pulled her close. Pressing his lips to hers, he tasted her mouth the way he’d wanted to every since she’d pulled her long legs out of Regan’s truck Friday afternoon.

Her mouth was cool and sweet. It tasted like grape
popsicle
. She gave a soft moan, and he pulled her closer, massaging her waist through her thin nightgown. He then moved his massage lower, right over her hipbones, his fingertips playing into the side of her perfectly round bottom.