His Melody (4 page)

“Thanks,” she said, her tone dead. “But tonight, I don’t know if there’s a motel anywhere around here or a Western Union still open. You see, with no wallet, I don’t know where I’ll stay.” She bit back tears. The pressure of the day’s stress was getting to her, but she didn’t want to turn into an emotional wreck in front of this complete stranger.

“You’ll stay with us. Mom’ll love having you over,” he said.

She looked up at him. She couldn’t remember exactly when it happened—she’d been a little preoccupied after all—but he’d lost the smart aleck routine. It had better not be because of pity. She didn’t need any. She was used to looking out for herself. And normally, she was good at it. She’d just come across some bad luck lately. And she’d had a lot on her mind, thanks to the fact that she was almost unemployed amongst other things.

Her ex had been calling lately under the pretense of “business” even though the divorce had been finalized for over a year. She’d heard from friends of hers in California that his new relationship with the
practically-a-child
R&B singer he’d cheated on her with wasn’t going well. Good enough for him. Still, dealing with him always left her mixed up emotionally.

“So…you gonna take me up on it or
?...
” Austin asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Her smile faltered a little, but she said, “You really don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not one bit. In fact, if she heard what happened, and that I hadn’t made the offer, she’d’ve knocked me in the head and asked me why not. When you meet her, you’ll understand,” he said.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You want me to go ahead with the engine?”

She cringed when she remembered what he’d said about the price.

“We might be able to find a refurbished one in good shape,” he said.

“Okay. If you can find one under three thousand, do it,” she said, making some mental calculations about her savings and trying to decide if it’d be better to go in for a new car or not. Not having one at all wasn’t an option—living in Atlanta without a car was unthinkable. Especially with all the traveling she did for work around the various parts of the city. That would be a sure way to lose her job if she hadn’t already.

“All right. Let me make a few calls to see if I can get any leads, and then we’ll head out of here,” Austin said, hopping off his desk.

She watched while he called various people and had easy conversations with them about car engines. What a smile. And dimples.
That laugh
. She bet he could seduce with those eyes alone.

He turned to the side to pick up some sort of catalog and suddenly, she had it. For some reason, his profile jogged her memory. She did know him—well, not exactly—but she knew why he seemed so familiar. She sat on the edge of her chair, eager for him to get off the phone so she could share her realization with him and confirm her suspicion.

Chapter Four

He got off the phone and realized that she was staring at him with a hungry, eager look. He dropped the phone to the desk. He knew that look. When he’d lived in New York, he’d dubbed it the Journalist Look.
Or sometimes the Paparazzi Look.

“What,” he said flatly, pushing away from the desk. He already knew, but he was drawing this out while debating whether to deny what she was inevitably about to accuse him of being.

“I knew you looked familiar.” She sat forward in her chair, and her dark hair fell into her face. “I know who you are. Your hair’s different. You used to have more of it, and it was darker and styled and gelled into the heartthrob style at the time. But you’re him.
From the billboards.
The magazines. Weren’t you on that reality show for half a season?
The one that got canceled?
You’re Grayson Meadows.”

Austin hated that name. It wasn’t a part of him any longer. Neither was the life that had gone with it. “My name is Austin Holt.” His agent had chosen that phony name to go along with the phony personality she’d tried to pin on him.

“But that was you, right?” A look of doubt flickered through her eyes and for a moment, he thought about reinforcing it.

“Yeah. It was.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He said with his hand over his mouth, “
Was
is the key word there.”

“Grayson Meadows. Male model,” she said.

“Austin Holt. Ex-male model,” he corrected.

“What happened to you? I mean, why are you here?” she said. “You were so hot.
So popular.
Everyone wanted you. For a while, I couldn’t turn on the television without seeing your face. And then you just…disappeared.”

He’d hated it. No, hate wasn’t a strong enough word. Neither was loathe, but in any case, he wasn’t getting into all that with her. He shrugged. “Career change. Now, that storm is getting closer every minute we sit here. We better get out of this place for the night. Why don’t we just go over to Mom’s, get you on the
internet
, and figure the rest out from there? We’ll get you settled in for the night, make arrangements for your car, and get you to the bus so that you can get on with your life.” It was best for her to get out of there before he got any more ideas that were bound to get him in trouble. And definitely before she could ask any more questions about Grayson.

“Oh. Sure,” she said. She seemed to sense he didn’t want to talk about it. She had good intuition, he had to give her that. That name alone that she’d mentioned set his teeth on edge.

She walked out of the office. After double-checking the safe and locking up the office, he followed her out into the garage.

When the four of them walked outside, Austin saw immediately that Donnie had been right. The sky was dark purple, almost black. Jagged, ominous, gray storm clouds rolled across it. Wind whipped against them, much cooler than the hot, stagnant air that had settled over them all afternoon. Dust kicked up in the grassless patches of sand near the fence that led around back.

“See you at the house,” Austin said to his brother and sister.

“See y’all,” they called before heading for a dusty truck parallel parked down the street a bit.

“We’ll take my truck,” Austin said, putting a hand on her back. She tensed. He hadn’t even thought about it. He let his hand drop to his side. “Sorry. Habit.”

“It’s okay.” Her ears and cheeks started to redden. He couldn’t stop thinking how adorable that was. She backed away from him a little. “Um, I should have asked you earlier. I almost forgot,” she said. “I need to get some things out of my car.”

They went back into the garage and retrieved her luggage. He carried her small suitcase and a shoulder bag out to his truck for her.

“This is your truck?” she asked.

He chuckled at the sound of surprise and approval in her voice. “Yeah.” He hit a button on his smart key and unlocked the doors to his dark blue custom-built Dodge Ram 3500 complete with a 6
.7 liter
turbo diesel engine, 350 horsepower, 800 pounds-feet of torque, and 14,000 pounds of towing capacity. Not to mention a mega cab. He had a couple Shelby Mustangs at home—one he’d rebuilt from scratch as a project to get his mind off things when he’d first moved back to Sweet Neck and a newer one. He also had a roadster that he didn’t drive much, but the truck was his baby. Cars were his weakness. After all, he’d been born and bred on them.

“Nice,” she said, hopping into the seat. He’d wanted so badly to help her into the truck, but she hadn’t asked for his help, so it was better for him not to be pushy about it. Besides, he was already having a hard enough time behaving without giving
himself
extra temptation.

#

When they got to the house, he saw Avery’s old pick up truck in the yard, which meant she and
Donnie
had beat them home.
No surprise there considering they’d gotten a head start.
Turning to Melody, he said, “Welcome to Bellevue.”

“Your house has a name?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Used to be a plantation.” Opening his door and grabbing her suitcase from the floor between them, he said, “Let’s go inside.”

Donnie and Avery were in the living room with the rest of the family. He could tell his mom and Vernon had already been briefed from the eager look on his mom’s face.

She jumped up, offering a small, pale hand. “You must be Melody. Welcome to our home. I’m Leigh Anne.” She nodded to her the tall, dark-skinned man next to her. “And this is my husband, Vernon. I think you’ve already met my attractive if unruly brood.”

Melody shook hands with them, and everyone exchanged greetings.

“She needs to use your computer, Mom. Her phone died,” Austin said before his mom could get sidetracked asking Melody a million questions.

“Oh, sure, sure,” she said. “But first, y’all are gonna eat. Poor thing.” She put a hand on Melody’s shoulder. “After the day you’ve had, you must want a good meal.”

“That’d be wonderful,” Melody said.

“Melody, honey, why don’t you get settled while I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner?” Mom straightened her back, rising to her full height—all five feet and two inches of it. Despite the fact that Mom was the shortest one in the family, she was clearly the boss of them all. “Austin, you show her to one of the guest rooms on the second floor. Show her the towels and everything,” Mom said before bustling off in the direction of the kitchen. Ominous thunder rumbled in the distance.

“A shower sounds so good,”
Melody
said, eyes closed, allowing her head to fall back. She rolled it from shoulder to shoulder. Her slender, long neck was exposed to him. Her throat begged to be kissed. The curve of her neck melted into shoulders that weren’t bad at all. He’d always had a particular weakness for a good set of shoulders. He was a
leg man
, but shoulders were a close second for him.

Tearing his eyes away from her tempting body, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you’re gonna shower, you better do it quick. This storm is coming on strong and fast.” And that wasn’t the only thing coming on strong and fast.

“What’s the storm got to do with it?” She gave him a curious look.

“You can’t shower during a storm.”

She snorted. “What’s that?
Superstition or something?
What’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah, the kind of superstition that can electrocute you. Besides, Mom won’t have it. She’d probably grab you out of there mid-shower, hollering about you trying to get yourself killed,” he said. Apparently, he was intent on torturing himself. The thought of Melody in the shower did bad things to him. He was glad he still wore his baggy coveralls so she couldn’t see the incriminating evidence of that.

“Okay, show me the way. Hurry. I must shower,” Melody said.

Austin led her upstairs.

“This place is huge.” Melody looked around as they headed up the stairs. The staircase was made of dark, solid wood. As they ascended, it curved. Melody seemed fascinated by the things he’d seen all his life.

“Yeah. It was the great house for one of the largest plantations in the state right around the time Georgia seceded from the Union in 1861. Then it was an inn after the civil war for a while. It’s been in the family since oh…I’d guess about the turn of the century when my great-great grandfather moved to town and made his fortune in bootlegging moonshine,” Austin said. “He used the inn as a front for his operation. After he died, my great-great grandmother turned it into a private home.”

“How’d he die?”

“Gangsters—rival bootleggers. He wasn’t in the safest line of work, you know.”

“This place has quite a story behind it, huh?” Melody ran her hand over one of the polished hardwood banisters. She looked up at the family portraits lined the wall above the staircase. Luckily, she didn’t ask about those or why Vernon wasn’t in them.

“Guess so,” he said. He never thought of it as being more than a place to live. In fact, he’d never thought about the house much at all. His mom occasionally had people over from the local historical society, but he didn’t have much to do with any of that and had no idea what they did or talked about when they came over for lunch.

He led her to a room at the opposite end of the hall from his. There was an empty room closer to his, but he saw no reason to unnecessarily tempt himself with forbidden fruit.

“Beautiful,” she said, walking into the high-ceilinged room and looking around. He guessed if you liked girl stuff, the bright yellow room dripping with lace was a fantasy come true. Like living in a dollhouse or something.

“Well, let me show you the towels so you can shower.” A shower didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. He might try and sneak in a quick and cold one before dinner.
Very, very cold.

She nodded, following him into the hall again. He walked her over to the linen closet just outside the bathroom door across the hall.

“In there,” he said, opening the door and gesturing inside the closet.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem.” He started to walk away. She laid a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she said.

“Hum?”

“Thanks. For all of your help today,” she said. She lowered her eyes, and her long black eyelashes brushed her cheeks.