Chapter 1

Melody

 

Melody’s life would have been darn different, if Stryder Flint had never left.

Everything was or wasn’t according to how it should be. Wasn’t that her dad’s favorite saying? Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. She didn’t really care at that point.

Melody Steel wiped her hands on the threadbare kitchen towel hanging from the oven handle. She stood in the center of the once grand kitchen with her hands on her hips and slowly pivoted, surveying her cleaning job.

She’d swept, mopped, dusted anything she could reach, cleaned inside the nearly-empty fridge, reorganized all the chipped dishes in the cabinets, and scrubbed the windows more than once. Sleep had eluded her while she waited for news.

Her nerves were getting to her. If she didn’t stop wiping the counters or doing the dishes, she’d wear a hole in something.

Cutting through the tension, the landline phone rang, the peel sharp and demanding in the strong acoustics of the house.

Melody jumped, folding her arms and taking a deep breath. The second ring seemed to jolt her into action and she swooped onto the phone, grabbing up the receiver and cradling the mouth piece in her other hand. “Hello?” Why did she sound all breathy and weird? The phone never rang unless a telemarketer felt lucky. Her hands shook, even as she tried being brave.

“Ms. Steel, it’s Doctor Gideon. It’s time.” His words were nothing out of the ordinary, yet his tone promised she needed to be ready. “Your dad has passed.”

Nodding, even though he couldn’t see, Melody swallowed and murmured, “I… I understand. I’ll be right in.” She hung up, staring at the cream phone she’d never been able to talk her dad into getting rid of.

A memory of just a year ago flashed through her mind’s eye.

Standing at the phone, Melody waved her hand at the old rotary piece while holding the pink bill in the other. Her voice broke as she tried convincing her father again. “We can’t pay the phone bill when we have the electricity bill, Dad. We can’t. This is not a priority. Keeping our food from spoiling is. We could save a lot of money, if you’d just get rid of it. Please.”

He stood there, his bloodshot eyes wide as she spoke. Stooped shoulders that had once been strong and straight hunched inward. His barrel chest had taken on a concave form and he’d clung to a bottle of Wild Turkey. Shaking his head, he’d pushed close to the phone, gripping the handset but not pulling it from the base. His lips quivered. “No. She might call. This is the only number she knows.” Even as drunk as he was, his words didn’t slur.

Melody stared at him, sadness curling in her chest. She leaned close, tucking the bill in the pocket of his overalls. “She’s not coming back, Dad. Mom left. She’s not coming back.” Why couldn’t he accept it? Melody accepted it, no matter how much it hurt.

Even as the collectors circled like vultures, he’d never gotten so far behind on the phone bill that they would disconnect it. The power, yes, but not the phone.

The pain of the memory seemed fresh as she hung up the call. Closing her eyes, Melody sank to her knees in the middle of the peeling linoleum floor of the kitchen. If it wasn’t for the alcohol her daddy drank to curb the pain of his wife leaving him, Melody wouldn’t be in danger of losing her home and everything important to her.

She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. The doctor had said it’s time. All she needed was a break, but she didn’t need her dad to die. Clint Steel tried so hard to be a good dad after his wife had left, Melody didn’t blame him for his coping skills.

If she wasn’t so against drinking, she could only imagine what she would do faced with the future she had ahead of her. What was she supposed to do there on that old ranch all by herself?

Drown in debt, apparently.

 

***

 

A few days since the call about her dad, Melody didn’t worry that she’d missed a call on the landline phone. She disconnected it as soon as she’d gotten home from saying goodbye to her father.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the streaked glass of the front window, warming the hardwood floor. How did windows get dirty when no one was there to put their fingers on the glass?

Melody slid her black heels off, kicking them to the side as she stepped onto the warm rug and closed her eyes. Reaching up, she pinched the soft flesh of her neck. She was tense and didn’t know if she’d ever feel rested again.

The funeral had been hard. Not only had her dad died a few days before, but the cost of the funeral had tacked itself to the mounting pile of debt and all she’d done while burying her father was itemize everything at the graveside service. The flowers had cost close to a hundred dollars. The casket a few thousand – and that was the base model! Melody had even had to accept a bill from the pastor who’d spoken over the body.

An obituary would be printed free of charge in a couple days, but Melody had gone with the basic information instead of creating anything worth cutting out and saving. Not many people had come to the funeral, but that wasn’t because of anything other than Melody hadn’t announced it in the paper. That cost money. Money she didn’t have.

Plus, let’s be honest, when people showed up, they expected refreshments of some sort. As it was, Melody could only offer dry ramen noodles and cold well water. That was no way to send off her dad.

To make matters worse, Mrs. Singhe had approached – the old biddy made it to every funeral and wedding in Two Rides as if it were her duty to attend. She’d shaken Melody’s cold fingers – even though the day was warm with early afternoon summer heat – and she’d smiled with pinched creases framing her lips. “It’s too bad about your daddy, Ms. Steel. I heard Stryder Flint has so much money, he could have thrown you a right proper funeral, if that hadn’t been messed up.” She’d eyed Melody without cracking a smile, her gaze skimming Melody up and down.

Pulling her fingers from Mrs. Singhe’s grasp, Melody hadn’t spoken or acknowledged that she’d spoken. She didn’t have to be polite, not right then. She wasn’t at work. Her customer service wasn’t required as she stood beside the hole her father would be dropped into and covered with dirt.

How dare Mrs. Singhe mention Stryder Flint. As if the rags-to-riches cowboy had anything to do with Melody any longer. He’d left with her heart and hadn’t looked back.

Of course, Stryder could have paid for a better funeral. With all his billions he could buy the town a couple times over. Everyone in Two Rides, Montana waited for the day he came back – not only to berate him for leaving the small town, but also to ask him for money.

The Steels weren’t the only ones suffering from the devastated economy.

A knock on the front door startled Melody and brought her back to the present. Gritty dust coated her cheeks where the wind had whirled against her soaked skin. Why would anyone show up at her house so soon after the burial? Maybe the collectors resorted to showing up at her door instead of calling since she’d disconnected the phone. She wouldn’t be surprised.

Although, she wouldn’t be surprised at a lot of things.

Turning from the warm spot on the floor, Melody opened the door and raised her gaze. Her jaw stiffened and she lifted her chin. She was distinctly out of her element in her black mourning dress. She needed her jeans and t-shirt to feel more in control of the moment. Narrowing her eyes, she took a deep breath and waited for her visitor to speak.

Brock Stidwell. She clenched her teeth and closed the door halfway until she was able to block the bottom of the door with her foot so he couldn’t push inside. The man had brutish down to a whole new science.

“Melody.” He took his cowboy hat off and inclined his head, a stray lock of shiny strawberry blond hair fell across his forehead. The man wasn’t sore on the eyes, but he expected a lot of allowances based on his looks and his personality grated on Melody’s nerves.

“What do you want, Brock? Today… Today isn’t the day.” She didn’t want anything to do with him. How many times did she have to say that? No matter how many times her dad had pushed her toward the Stidwell family, Melody hadn’t been interested. She’d agreed to go on one date with him a few years back and that had been the most uncomfortable she’d been in her entire life.

She’d promised never to subject herself to that again.

His tall silhouette blocked the sun working its way over the field and across the deck planks. Pulling his hat from the crown of his head, Brock leaned against the doorjamb. “You need to marry me. I’ll pay your bills and help you sell this place.” Brock pleaded as he studied her hungrily. The man even had the audacity to lick his lips as he scanned her form with his gaze.

He’d had a thing for Melody for years, even longer than she’d known about him. The Stidwells lived on the south side of town, with their granary one of the last big businesses in the area still running. They had modest money but with the economy the way it was, they were rich compared to everyone else. Brock liked to remind Melody of that regularly when he came into the café.

Shaking her head, Melody stared belligerently at Brock. “I said no. Things haven’t changed.” She wasn’t going to marry him and that was final. She’d rather end up a crazy cat lady than a Stidwell.

“Your daddy’s dead, Melody. You can’t stay here all by yourself. I know the situation with the bank and your other debts. If you don’t come with me, you’ll be out of your home. Who knows what that will lead to.” He arched an eyebrow as if to suggest all kinds of fire and brimstone activity lay before her. The breadth of his shoulders would have been impressive, if she didn’t know how rude he was to other waitresses and just how little he worked for the money he got from his dad.

“I don’t need any one to help me figure out what to do.” A sharp panic started to work its way through her chest. While it was true she didn’t want help from him, Melody had to admit that she needed something from someone or she was going to lose the Steel home.

“If you don’t take me, no one else is going to want you. I’m your last hope.” He smiled, but it didn’t come across as consoling with its oily edges and satisfaction.

“I’ll take my chances.” Melody set her jaw as she closed the door and locked it for good measure. She didn’t need Brock or anything he offered. She wasn’t that desperate – yet.

She didn’t stay in the front room to see how long he hung around. Bending to grab her black heels, she rushed upstairs to her room and crawled into bed. Ignoring the scratchy tulle of her long black dress she’d borrowed from her mama’s closet, Melody blinked back more depressed tears at the thought of the closet full of clothes the woman had left behind when she’d abandoned the Steel family.

Melody’s mama had left without a solid goodbye. No reasons. Nothing. How long had Melody waited by the front door for her mom to return? Longer than her pride wanted to admit.

If her mother hadn’t left, Melody wouldn’t be stuck in the situation she was caught in. Her dad had always said if he’d only had enough money he wouldn’t have lost his wife. But Melody didn’t think that was the case or he would have sold the Corvette his dad had left him. The Steel family had always had enough. No, money couldn’t have been the reason she’d left. Melody had always suspected her mom had left because of Melody, but she didn’t what she’d done.

With both parents gone, Melody was all alone. Not a big deal at her age, but she had the responsibilities of the ranch all on her and no way to bolster them. What was she supposed to do?

Melody curled onto her side, gripping a pillow to her chest as she stared at the peeling peach and cream wallpaper.

She couldn’t breathe. She was going to lose her home and everything she owned because her alcoholic father couldn’t keep a job and her own position at the café was only enough to keep the edge of the bills paid. Just the edge. She had no idea how much was due in total.

Tired of crying and worrying, Melody shoved the panic aside and closed her eyes. Her father was dead. She had no one else.

At least she had work. She could count on her job.

And even though her father’s funeral had just ended, Melody had the graveyard shift at the café that night. She had to get some rest. She had bills to pay and taking a day off wasn’t an option – no matter who had died.

Mrs. Singhe’s mention of Stryder Flint fluttered through the back of her mind. Mrs. Singhe didn’t have to bring the topic of the absent man to the conversation. Stryder was never far from Melody’s mind. How could he be? He’d been the only thing holding her together for so long.

 

***

 

Dotty’s Diner wasn’t owned by Dotty but even the locals acted like they all knew Dotty and talked about her like an old friend when they sat at the faded and chipped tables.

Melody yawned as she wiped another empty booth. The all-night shift had sapped a lot of her non-existent energy. Her apron whacked the edge of the laminate table. Pushing the salt and pepper back to the side of the table nearest the wall beside the napkin holder, Melody bent down and wiped out the creases of the seats.

The door dinged as it opened. Not another customer. No, she wanted to go home to sleep – at least while she could sleep at her own house. She was just bone tired enough she might be able to get some rest this time.

Glancing up, she pasted a tolerant smile on in preparation of another customer. Her shoulders relaxed at the sight of Jesse, Melody’s oldest friend, bustling through the door.

Jesse’s dark hair pinned up in a bun enhanced the heart shape of her face. Her energy seemed more kinetic than anything as her petite shape moved gracefully around the edge of the counter. She grabbed her apron, jerking her chin upward at Melody. “Mornin’, girl. You survive last night?” She arched an eyebrow at Melody and tied the apron strings to the pink and black polka-dotted piece. The apron even had ruffles but at least it had pockets. Melody tugged on the bottom hem of her matching apron and stood from the table.

Carrying the wet cloth loosely in her hand, Melody returned to the back-counter area and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Tom, owner and operator and also surly cook, was nowhere to be seen. The man was a bully and Melody tried to stay out of his way more often than not.

Melody leaned close to Jesse, stacking napkins and silverware as she folded them together. She had to look busy in case the old man came out. He didn’t like Melody and the feeling was mutual, but she needed the job. There weren’t many in Two Rides. Everyone needed work and the truck stop style diner was one of the only places that stayed busy since they were right on a junction of two highways. Thankfully, the customers adored her which kept her job there safe.

“How you doin’? I wish you would’ve let me go to your dad’s funeral yesterday. Mama said it was bad form on my part not to be there. It took nearly an hour to explain to her you told me I couldn’t go. She’ll probably ask you all about it when you come over next time. Like she doesn’t believe me. That woman.” Jesse shook her head, but her words lacked venom. She loved her family and it was more than evident by the things she did for them.

Melody blinked back tears, shaking her head. “Brock showed up.” The long night and the events of the last few days wore on Melody. She couldn’t feel lonelier or more fatigued than she did in that singular moment. What would everyone do, if she just laid down on the tiled floor and fell to sleep?

Jesse wrapped her arms around her and rested her chin on Melody’s shoulder. “I know things seem bleak right now, but you can’t marry Brock, Melody. He’ll only cause you heart break.” Jesse had known Brock because of her brother. Brock was a couple years older than the girls and he’d graduated high school before Jesse and Melody were even freshman. In a small town like Two Rides, the entire high school student body count wasn’t more than fifty. Jesse’s brother knew things about Brock that would never let Melody date him – no matter how badly her father wanted her to.

Melody nodded, grateful for the embrace, but she pulled back anyway. “I know. He offered to pay my bills, though. You know how enticing that is.” If anyone got it, Jesse did. Melody offered a wet smile like she didn’t mean it, but she did. Brock had more money than Melody did. She didn’t like the guy much at all.

Even if she didn’t like the guy, what if he was the only one who could ever love her? Loving her seemed to be too much effort, took too much out of people. Loving Melody had been too much for her mother and look what it had cost her father.

Jesse shot her a sympathetic smile. They’d covered the topic of Brock’s money more than once in the past. As appealing as his cash was, Melody wouldn’t marry anyone for their money. She refused. Plus, she was still holding out hope…

The television set up over the far side of the dining space was set to the news. The anchorwoman’s voice cut through the silence that Melody and Jesse fell into.

“Not only is Flint Industries taking over Lexico Computers, but the CEO and owner, Stryder Flint, promises more jobs to the small town as he brings in his research and development team. On a more disappointing note to the young women out there, rumors have become more solidified around the Candy Cross and Stryder Flint union. Friends of the couple have reported the mention of dates and a guest list.”

Melody turned to stare at the screen. “Are you kidding me?” She was waiting for a man who was moving on. When was she going to see that?

The diner phone rang and she reached for the earpiece. She didn’t need Tom coming out to yell at her to answer the phone. “Dotty’s Diner. This is Melody Steel.” Why did she keep answering with her last name? Jesse shot her an amused glance. There’d be teasing when Melody hung up for sure.

“Melody Steel? This is Frank with Thompson and Thompson Mortgage. I’ve left you multiple messages on your home phone. You’re a hundred-and-eighty days past due. You have thirty days to get caught back up on your payments or you’ll be in foreclosure. If you happen to have a sell pending, we need to be made aware of that.” His voice had the clipped tones of a man who wasn’t taking anymore from a customer who obviously didn’t have the means to pay.

Melody didn’t wait to hear more. She lowered the phone piece back to its base and stared at the phone while the anchorwoman continued speaking. “…Stryder has made his own fortune and he’s been heard saying more than once that he just wants to give back. Well, Stryder Flint, you’re one amazing man.”

Melody blinked back tears. If he’d been so amazing, why had he left? One more person who couldn’t survive loving her. He’d left on a cloud of promises and Melody had held out hope all this time.

Regret was cold and so was loneliness. Melody didn’t have time for either.

She had a home to save and no life vest to hold onto. She turned back to ring up the tickets in her apron pocket. How much would her thirty dollars in tips help out at the ranch?

Maybe she could sell her secrets about Stryder to the anchorwoman interested in his love life. Melody knew more about the ex-cowboy than anyone. He’d been her first love and she his.

That had to be worth something.

Dang, her life would have been so different, if she’d never met Stryder Flint.