Chapter 3

Melody

 

Melody had been painting her fake smile on her lips for such long periods of time over the last week or so, her cheeks hurt. She’d taken another extra shift and her feet screamed for a break, but she needed the money to make as many payments as she could. As long as she didn’t think about the full amount due, she could chip away at it. She had to.

She shivered, unable to get fully warm the last few days. The power had been shut off at her house which meant cold showers and no fridge. Rolling the silverware beside the coffee maker was as close as she could get to a mini heater. Melody sighed, blinking hard to ward off her fatigue as she glanced out over the restaurant and the customers.

Her thoughts were jumbled. She’d shut off the unnecessary phone line. Her mom wasn’t coming back. No matter how long her dad had hoped. Melody had to accept that about Stryder as well.

To make ends meet, Melody had to sell things off and she wasn’t sure where to list items or even what would sell fastest.

Considering the customers in their seats, Melody pressed her lips together. If anyone was looking for farm equipment, those men would be the ones in the know. Gripping the black handle of the coffee pot, Melody pasted yet another fake smile on her lips and left the protection of the server staging area.

Approaching the packed booth of regulars, Melody licked her lips. The men knew her daddy was dead, but they hadn’t really acknowledged anything else about the situation over the last few days. A few of them had dropped extra change for her tip, but that was about it. Rough farmers and ranchers, they probably didn’t want to face Clint’s mortality in order to avoid their own.

Sidling up to the open corner of the table, Melody cocked an eyebrow and smiled even broader. “How’s the hashbrowns, guys? Anyone need a refill?” She held the pot aloft as if they didn’t know what she was talking about. Those men would go through three or four decanters all by themselves on any given morning.

The group was ultimately morning people. They were up before the sun to work started on their farms and their ranches every day but Sunday. They stopped by the diner for coffee and a bite and to get a pulse on what was going on. If ever there were a water cooler space for a farmer, it was at his local diner with a cup of joe.

The chime from the door opening announced another arrival. Melody glanced over her shoulder long enough to see Jesse seat a man with his back to Melody in a black suit in a side booth. Melody turned back to the group.

“Melody, we were just talkin’ about you.”  Ole Man Timmery tugged on the collar of his grass-stained coveralls and pointed at Jansen Stidwell. “Why won’t you marry Brock already?” Brock was Jansen’s son and everyone in town knew Brock planned on Melody being his bride. The Stidwells were the town bullies and most everyone gave them whatever they wanted.

Except Melody. She wouldn’t marry Brock.

The muscles around her mouth tightened in irritation. Leaning over, Melody topped off the mugs in reach. A couple of the men covered the mouths of their cups as a sign they didn’t want more. “How can I marry Brock when I’m in love with you, Randy?”

Brock wasn’t the topic she wanted to pursue when she was so tired she might very well say something she shouldn’t. Melody changed the subject. “Gentlemen, my daddy had the best farm equipment around. Would anyone be in the market?” She had more things, but she’d start with that. There was no sentimental value to the tractor or other items shacked up in the barn.

Mr. Stidwell leaned over, tapping the tabletop with the tip of his finger. He was the only one who wouldn’t be out working the fields that day and his white button-up shirt testified to his expectations for his daily work. “I’m interested in buying Clint’s ’66 split window Corvette. I’ll pay you top dollar for that piece and to sweeten the deal, I’ll get Brock to leave you alone.” He winked. If anyone could make Brock leave her alone, it was his father.

The group laughed, waiting for Melody’s reply. Stidwell had been bugging Clint for that car since before Melody could remember. Clint had never hinted that it was a possibility. He’d had too much fondness for the Corvette that his dad had bought brand new. Selling it to Stidwell seemed like a cop out.

Melody paused, she couldn’t imagine selling the car. That was her daddy’s most valued prized possession. He’d loved that car almost as much as he’d loved Melody – maybe more.

The men waited for an answer. Melody brightened her smile. “Tell you what, Mr. Stidwell, I’ll think about your offer. The price won’t be low, if I go that route. And getting Brock to back off will only be the start.” She smirked as if she were teasing, but deep down, she knew, if she were going to sell the Corvette, it wouldn’t be for a small pittance. Her daddy’s toy. She couldn’t sell that old car, but she might have to consider it. Something big was going to have to go – the house was the top of the list.

“Let me know if you need anything, guys.” She turned, pulling the pad of paper from her pocket to make sure she’d written down Stidwell’s extra bacon that morning to charge him. She was tired and if she didn’t double-check things, she forgot easily. She padded carefully down the aisle, retucking her ticket pad into her large apron pocket and sighing.

“Excuse me, I might be on the market for some farm equipment.” That voice. She’d know that voice anywhere. It had been years since she’d heard him speak just to her and her reaction was just as palpable. Of their own volition, her toes curled in her white tennis shoes and her shoulders tensed.

Melody broke stride, jerking to a stop. She took a deep breath and turned slowly to face the table Jesse had sat the newcomer at. The newcomer wasn’t some random stranger passing through.

Stryder had come home.

His voice matched the man he’d become.

Smooth, velvety, and something bold. His high cheekbones and hooded eyes only enhanced the masculine bend in his jaw and the thick brown hair unadorned with a hat. Every man wore a cowboy hat around Two Rides. The absence didn’t make him seem weaker or less than. In fact, Melody could easily imagine reaching out and running her fingers through the soft, shiny strands.

She wanted to touch him, throw herself in his lap and beg him to tell her why he hadn’t come back for her. The smoldering heat in his eyes promised something she didn’t trust anymore.

His eyes. Why? Why did they have to be so deep and knowing? The brown left her knees weak and if she didn’t do something, she was going to throw the pot of coffee into his lap. As her control threatened to abandon her, she couldn’t help wondering if dumping the hot liquid over him would be a bad thing.

A chill broke out over Melody’s skin followed by a hot flush that left her shaking. She didn’t even smile as she turned from him and his angular jaw. Dang his good looks! Long strides carried her to the counter and she nudged Jesse who was pulling on her jacket. “A little bit of a heads up would’ve been nice.” Although, to be fair, it wasn’t Jesse’s fault Melody had been taken by surprise.

Jesse cast a curious glance at the booth. “What?” She turned back to Melody, swiping lip gloss over her lower lip. “I didn’t get a chance to look at him. Is he cute? I’m trying to get home. Mom’s not feeling very well again and she needs help with one of her jobs.” Money was tight with everyone and Jesse helped her mother at home with her tailoring work while also helping with the bills.

“You sat Stryder. Stryder Flint. In my section.” Melody set her jaw, careful to keep her back to the restaurant. She couldn’t go back out. Not with Stryder sitting there. What was he doing? Why did he have to come in when she was drowning in debt, desperate for cash and he lived in an ocean of money? He couldn’t have come in at a worst time. She was exhausted, hadn’t slept much over the last week, just finished a long graveyard shift, and who knew the last time she’d eaten a solid meal was.

Jesse’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” She leaned over, glancing toward the booth and then, eyes wide, she looked at Melody. “I didn’t even recognize him. I’m… Wow, I don’t know what to say. What are you going to do? I can’t stay to help, Mel. I’m late as it is.” She pulled off her apron and tucked it into her cubby under the register.

“Melody, get out there and serve the customer.” Tom leaned out of the order window and pointed toward Melody. “You’re going to get out of here, Jesse, unless you want Melody’s shift.” He arched a bushy eyebrow and settled back on his feet, flipping hashbrowns and grunting at his assertiveness.

Heart sinking, Melody half-turned to grab a tray and a glass of ice water. A cell phone rang in the distance and Melody glanced at Jesse.

“He’s on the phone. She can’t go over yet.” Jesse offered a look of sympathy and mouthed, “Call me.” With one last glare at Tom, Jesse left the diner. Melody didn’t blame her. She had other responsibilities and it wasn’t fair to ask Jesse to cover for her.

Melody had to be over Stryder. It wasn’t Jesse’s problem Melody couldn’t go out there. Not when it was only because Melody was still so hurt by being abandoned by Stryder that she didn’t want to go serve him. Damaged pride was no reason to run from duty. Plus, he had money. Maybe he’d tip her really well.

The dulcet tones of his deep bass voice sent shivers down to her toes. She’d sworn the next time she heard his voice she would have some witty comment and maybe even slap his face. Neither was an option at the moment and that just increased the bitterness in Melody’s heart.

He didn’t have to come back better looking – which she hadn’t thought possible. The cameras hadn’t done him justice. Melody worked her throat at the sudden dryness in her mouth. Everything about Stryder left her bothered. Why did he have to come back?

Who cares that she’d been dreaming and praying for so long that he’d return? There was too much under the bridge between them. How could she ever get him to love her again, when she wasn’t sure why he’d stopped?

Why was he there? Why couldn’t he just stay away? He’d been the one to leave before. Of course, he would be there at the lowest point of her life. Wasn’t that the way of their relationship?

She took a deep breath and ignored Tom’s glare. As long as Stryder was on the phone, Melody didn’t have to approach him.

Maybe he’d be on his call for a year. Melody could handle that. She could handle the heat he spread through her body. She could even handle the way her pulse shifted when he looked at her.

She could handle anything but going up to take his order. That was just asking too much.