Chapter 11
Melanie wanted to tell someone about her and Bryce’s evening but saw it was almost midnight. Too late to call Stephanie, too late to call her mother. If Mimi were still alive, she would’ve called her no matter how late. She’d had an extraordinary relationship with her grandmother and knew that Mimi was looking down on her from the heavens above. Melanie smiled at the image. Mimi would’ve told her to pack her best undies and bring her most expensive perfume.
And that’s just what she did after taking Odie out for an extra midnight potty break. Inside, she was too wired to even think about going to sleep. The animals sensed there was something different about her. They hopped on top of her bed and watched her as she went from closet to chest of drawers to luggage, their heads moving in perfect unison.
“Mom will take you two for the weekend. Dad might even grill you two a steak, but don’t tell him I know he does this, or I’m sure it’ll stop. Now, what’s left to pack?” She spoke to Odie and Clovis like they were people. She swore sometimes they could understand her.
She checked the contents of her luggage once more, making sure she had double of everything. Just in case. A slinky black dress, a slinky black sheer blouse, a slinky pair of formfitting black slacks. Black bikini undies with a matching bra. Yep, this would do for a weekend. She would wear her black leather boots on the flight, so she didn’t have to pack an extra pair of shoes. Seeing there was nothing left to do, she closed the luggage again, placing it on the floor next to her bed.
She couldn’t believe how her life had changed in just a matter of a few days. What a fantastic Christmas season. Now all she had to do was wait for Miss Krause’s phone call confirming that her background check was clear, which she knew to be a fact since she’d never had so much as a speeding ticket. Then she could honestly say that her life was close to perfect. Well, if you didn’t add that one teeny little element about marriage, then her life would be as close to perfect as it was ever going to get.
Odie yawned, reminding her of the late hour. Too keyed up to sleep, she retrieved her novel from the living room, then washed her face and brushed her teeth. She stripped down to her undies, slid into her favorite pair of sweats, and an old T-shirt from her high school days. Once she’d gently moved Odie and Clovis to their side of the bed, she opened her book and began to read about the latest saga in the vampire world. Within minutes, she was sound asleep.
* * *
Bryce finally gave up. In bed tossing and turning for the past two hours, he couldn’t have stayed still if his life depended on it. Shoving the heavy covers aside, he decided to get up and go downstairs in search of a snack. Grace always had some type of baked goods just waiting to be sliced into. Thankful there were no residents staying at Hope House, he didn’t bother putting on a shirt.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of milk, then spied a plate of brownies sitting next to the stove. He grabbed a saucer from the cabinet, stacked three large brownies on top of one another, and headed back upstairs.
It was going to be a long night, he thought as he entered the guest room. Switching on the lamp next to the bed, he placed the glass of milk and plate of brownies on the night table. Grace usually had a stack of novels tucked inside a drawer. He opened the drawer on the night table and was not disappointed. James Patterson’s, Vince Flynn’s, and Harlan Coben’s latests were neatly lined up side by side. Grace must’ve known he wouldn’t be able to sleep, because those were three of his favorite authors. He hadn’t read any of the three novels, either. He picked up Vince Flynn’s newest. He read the jacket copy, read the dedication, then the prologue. When he realized he’d read the prologue but hadn’t a clue what he’d read, he closed the book.
Normally, after a day on the slopes like the one he’d had today, he would’ve crashed hours ago. Instead, he felt renewed, like he’d just run an easy marathon and won. It was Melanie. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d met her casually a few times, thought she was a knockout, but for some reason hadn’t pursued her. When she’d tossed that cup of water in his face, well, it’d been an opening for him. Not having a clue why she’d acted in such a manner, he was glad she had. Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that.
He couldn’t believe she’d accepted his invitation to spend the weekend with him in Vegas. It almost seemed too easy, but he wasn’t going to question his good fortune. Tomorrow, he would help her chop down a Christmas tree; heck, he might even chop one down for his room. Then they’d go back to her place and decorate. He’d never been inside her condo and found himself suddenly curious about her. Did she prefer the right or the left side of the bed? Tea or coffee? Sugar or cream or both? Such inconsequential things. But he found he wanted to know all about her. He wanted to feel her next to him when he woke up in the morning. He wanted to wrap himself around her, wanted to make love to her until they were both pleasantly exhausted. And he would, as soon as he felt the time was right.
He wasn’t the man-about-town a lot of women thought he was. Not that Melanie had implied this to him, but he knew what his so-called reputation was on campus, and somehow he knew it would follow him for the rest of his life. If only he’d had such luck in high school. Gangly and tall, with crooked teeth and the beginnings of acne, he didn’t seem to appeal to any one particular girl. He’d dated in high school and had his first serious relationship in his second year of college. He’d thought Diana was the love of his life until he caught her sleeping with his dorm mate. In his bed. A life lesson, Grace had said, and she was right.
Since Diana, he’d dated a few women, even slept with a few that he thought he cared about, but he’d never felt such instant attraction for any woman, nothing like what he was feeling for Melanie. Until now, he’d never believed in love at first sight, or rather, at first splash. He suddenly realized he’d never believed in it because he hadn’t experienced it. And now? He looked around the bare but quaint bedroom. Pine chest of drawers, two twin beds with the night table separating them. Max’s magazine covers framed and hung neatly on the wall opposite the beds. Everything looked the exact same way it had the last time he’d slept in this room.
The only difference: now he was seeing it through the eyes of a man in total, absolute love.
Love. He’d fallen head over heels. Big-time.