“Honestly, Brad, I don’t even want to. Look, just because I let you take the boys to a movie last night doesn’t mean I forgive you. It means I was trying to get back into David’s good books.” She’d moved on to the rear window.
Two side windows to go and she was out of there. He knew she wouldn’t afford him any more time than that. He had to talk quickly. “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just need you to help me write a hit song.”
She stopped and stared at him. “You have to be out of your mind. Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you need money,” he said flatly. It didn’t get any plainer or realer than that.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything was fine until you showed up here as if you owned the town.” She swung the scraper wildly and he ducked to avoid getting it in the side of the head.
“Fine? Really? That’s not exactly the word that comes to mind when I think about your situation, Mel.” If the cold hard truth would wake her up, then so be it. He had nothing to lose at this point.
“What do you know about it? You’re back in Brookhollow for three days and all of a sudden you know something about my life? You know nothing.” Opening the back door, she tossed the snow scraper inside and slammed the door shut.
“I know you’re losing the house.”
She swung around to face him so quickly she lost her footing on the icy patch where she’d parked. She gripped the side of the van to balance herself, and then without missing a beat, she stalked toward him. “How do you know that?”
“Josh told me.” He didn’t want to get the little guy in trouble, but Melody had to open her eyes. She may have been tough, but there were some quagmires even she couldn’t climb out of on her own.
“What are you? A freaking child whisperer?” She stared at him in disbelief.
“Look, I don’t know why children trust me. Maybe it’s because I listen.”
“I listen. The nerve of you to imply...”
Brad held out a hand. “That’s not what I meant.” He took a deep breath and raked a hand through his snow-covered hair. “Melody, I can help.”
“Here’s the thing, Brad,” she said, climbing into the van and jamming the key in the ignition. “My family and I don’t want your help. We aren’t interested in being your ticket to fame and fortune—once again. But, then, I guess you’re using your own family for that now.” She reached for the door to slam it shut, but he grabbed it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“This show, all of this local promotion crap, all you care about is yourself and your career. I bet you’re not even planning to spend the holidays with your family. And I bet you’ve never once considered helping out at the tree farm, giving Troy a break during the busiest month of the year, instead of just showing up and making more work for them.” She knocked his arm away from her door. “Now, move out of the way or I’ll back out over you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MELODY PULLED INTO the lot of Bailey’s Place early the next day. With its new signage and recently renovated bays, no one would believe the forty-five-year-old auto-repair shop had almost burned to the ground three months before. Brookhollow didn’t see many fires, something her family, given its two firefighting brothers, was especially grateful for. Luckily no one had gotten hurt and the rebuild gave her brother the perfect excuse to insist that his fiancée install a new sprinkler system in the building for additional safety. He’d been recommending it for years.
A bell chimed as she entered, and she waved at Bailey, who was visible through the window of the door leading to the back bay. Her future sister-in-law held up a finger indicating she’d just be a moment, and Melody collapsed onto the padded leather stool in front of the counter.
“Van problems?”
Melody swung around to face Brad, who was sitting on the edge of the waiting area couch, coffee in hand and that day’s copy of the Brookhollow View open on the seat beside him. Of all the places in town to see him. What business could he possibly have at the mechanic shop? “What are you doing here?” She whipped her hat off her head and smoothed her long waves, painfully aware she wasn’t wearing any makeup and the hem of her Play Hard uniform was sticking out beneath her coat as usual.
“Well, seeing as how you gave me three seconds to talk last night and then you did most of the talking, I thought I’d try again.”
“So you’re stalking me now?”
He shrugged. “I heard you say you were bringing the van in this morning. I thought maybe I’d be safer once you were no longer able to run me over.”
She winced. She knew her words had been harsh the night before, at the time she’d meant them and now she couldn’t take them back. His sudden appearance in town had had a disturbingly negative effect on her. Of course, she never would have hit him with her minivan...or most likely not...though she had been furious. “I’m really not interested in hearing anything you have to say, Brad.”
Bailey pushed through the swinging door. “Hi, Mel,” she said.
“Hi, Bailey. Thanks for taking in the van so quickly.” She checked her watch. “I’m late—do you think we could head out now?” Bailey had offered to drive her to work in the tow truck and it was true she was running late, but the other reason for her hurry was now standing to her right, staring at her. What was he looking at?
Bailey’s eyes widened as she glanced at Brad, who was now on his feet. “He said he was driving you to work.”
He what? Melody’s eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “No, he’s not.”
“Nick’s gone with the tow truck and he didn’t leave his own car keys. I’m so sorry. Let me radio him to see how far away he is.”
Damn it. Couldn’t anything just go smoothly for once? Was that too much to ask? She fought the panic creeping over her. Being late for work at the store was bad any time of the year, but it was especially bad in the busy holiday season. Walking out on her exam had put her on thin ice already. She forced a deep breath. This wasn’t Bailey’s fault. “Okay.” She turned to Brad. “Thanks for nothing. Now I’m going to be late for work.”
“Not if you let me drive you,” Brad said. “Look, I just want a few minutes of your time.”
“I’d rather be late.”
Brad checked his watch. “It’s ten after nine. I’m guessing you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago.”
“It’s fine.” The ride from the shop to Play Hard was thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes was too long to be alone in a confined space with him...in a car. She wasn’t sure which part of that was worse. “Please radio Nick,” she said to Bailey.
Bailey picked up the radio and buzzed her cousin. Static filled the line. “Sometimes the weather affects the transmission.” She pointed to the blowing snow outside the shop’s front window. She tried again.
Melody shifted from one foot to the other and checked the time on her cell, noticing the battery was almost dead. Great. Of course. Her bad luck was almost starting to get comical, if black comedies were your thing. “Bailey, you don’t happen to have a portable cell charger in the tow truck, do you?”
“I have one in the rental car,” Brad said.
Why was he still here? “I didn’t ask you. You can leave.”
“I’ll wait to see how long Nick will be. Wouldn’t want to leave you stranded.”
“I can call someone else if I need to...”
The radio buzzed and Nick’s voice came over the line. “You looking for me?”
Bailey picked up the receiver and said, “Yes, how far away are you?”
“Twenty minutes...thirty maybe in this weather...”
“Okay, thanks.” Bailey set the radio aside. “I’m sorry, Mel.”
If she waited, she’d be an hour late. This time of year, the
store couldn’t afford to be short a cashier. She knew if she called to say she wouldn’t be there for another hour, they would get someone else in and she’d lose the shift. “That’s fine. I’ll phone Dad.” With the patrol car he could get her to work even more quickly. She dialed her father’s number despite her reluctance to ask for help. This would be the first favor she requested in three years. Her eyes met Brad’s as the phone rang and she turned away. Better her father than the man standing next to her. As the phone continued to ring, her desperation rose. Come on, Dad. The one time I take you up on your offer of help... She disconnected the call as it went to his voice mail.
“No answer?” Brad asked.
Oh, for the love of God, just leave already. Ignoring him, she said, “Bailey, I’m going to have to bring the van back after work.” She took the keys from the counter.
“Melody, Ethan would kill me if he knew you were finally in here to get those bald tires switched and I just let you leave in this weather without fixing them,” Bailey said, a note of concern in her voice.
“Especially when it’s not necessary,” Brad said.
Melody hesitated as she watched the heavy snowfall. The dark clouds looming overhead didn’t look anywhere near empty. If the snow continued throughout the day, the roads would be terrible later for the drive home, and she may not even make it to the shop. Think about the boys, a nagging voice inside her said. She couldn’t take chances with their safety. “Fine.”
“Fine? You’ll accept the ride?” Brad asked.
“No. Fine—I’ll leave the van. Bailey, could you call me a taxi?”
“Melody, I could have you halfway to work by now...”
“I don’t want to drive with you.” The exasperation she felt made her voice rise. Bailey busied herself looking for the taxi company’s phone number in the old Rolodex on her desk. Why was it so difficult for him to understand he was the last person on earth she wanted to climb into a car with? Especially in bad weather.
Brad removed the keys from his coat pocket and handed them to her. “You can drive.”
She stared at the keys. Didn’t matter if he drove or she drove—they’d still both be in his car. But she absolutely had to get to work. Now.
Bailey paused, phone cradled against her shoulder. “Mel, am I calling the taxi?”
“No, I’ll go with Brad,” Melody muttered, tugging her hat over her hair and taking the keys from him. At least she would be doing the driving. Pushing through the front door, she shivered as the cold wind whipped through her jacket. She scanned the parking lot for the rental.
“The Toyota Corolla,” he said.
Opening the driver’s side, she tossed her purse into the backseat and climbed in. The interior of the cab was still warm, and she was grateful for that as she slid the key into the ignition and adjusted the mirrors and seat. The country music blaring from the speakers made her wince and she immediately switched to a soft-rock station.
“Not a fan of country music anymore?” Brad asked, sliding into the passenger seat. He’d barely secured his seat belt before she tore out of the parking lot.
“Not really,” she said, her eyes fixed straight ahead. The lines were covered with snow and she was happy to see few other vehicles on the street.
“There are some really great new acts. I toured with Eric Church last year for three months and he was just incredible.”
Seriously? He was going to tell her about how great life was on the road? A life she’d wanted for herself at one time? Clearly this decision to drive with him had been a bad one. “I’ve said I don’t want to talk to you. I wouldn’t even have accepted the ride if you hadn’t messed up my original plans.” She flicked the wipers onto high and turned the radio volume up as an old Janis Joplin tune came through the speakers. Nostalgia almost overwhelmed her. She used to love “Piece of My Heart.” They’d done a cover of it when she’d performed in the band a lifetime ago. She wanted to turn it off, but she didn’t want to make a big deal of the memory train crashing into her. Images of being onstage at local bars, Patrick behind her on guitar, the crowd cheering as she belted out the raw lyrics. Her hand shook slightly and she gripped the steering wheel more tightly.
“I liked your version better,” Brad said, staring out the passenger-side window.
Against her better judgment, she took the bait. “Are you kidding me? Janis Joplin was a legend. We were just lucky to perform such a great song.”
Brad shifted in his seat and turned the song down a bit. “Exactly. Which is why you should help me write the next album.”
“Drop it, Brad.” She pulled the car onto the exit for the highway and the vehicle slid in the lane as she accelerated. She took her foot off the gas and braked a little, which made the car jolt. In the van, the brakes needed work, and she wasn’t used to the rental’s touchy responses. She fought with the wheel to set it straight.
“It’s okay. You got it,” Brad said, as the vehicle straightened and she accelerated again, more carefully this time. A long moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “All I’m asking is that you think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about.” She paused. “Look, even if I wanted to, I’m too busy. You see my life—a little too well, in fact—so how do you expect me to write songs for you?” Of course she wouldn’t have needed to if she’d simply handed over the ones she and Patrick had written for an album that had never been released. “Write your own songs,” she said, even though she knew it would never happen. Up until he’d learned to play a few chords on the guitar to get by in Patrick’s absence, he’d just been the insanely handsome lead singer with a voice that melted hearts and weakened knees.
“I’ve tried,” he said. “It’s useless.”
The news didn’t surprise her. He’d once tried to rhyme “my baby’s kiss” with “a crazy twist.” Lyrics were not his strong point. Still, he didn’t have to write his own songs. “You live in Nashville,” she said. “I find it hard to believe there’s a shortage of songwriters in that city.” She refused to let him get to her. In a few hours he would be out of here and her life could go back to the way it had been.
“I get stuff sent to my manager all the time,” he admitted, “but none is the chart-topping kind. Those are sent to the stars of the business. I need something great.”
“And what makes you think I can give you something great?” As a matter of fact, she could. She knew just the one. A song called “When Love Finds You.” She’d written it herself one evening when Patrick was on the road. She’d wanted to surprise him with it the night he didn’t come home. Hell would freeze over before she gave it to Brad.
“Did you know the songs from the first CD that became singles were ones you wrote? ‘Moonlight’ hit spot five on the country charts within its first week and climbed to the second spot, where it stayed for three weeks... ‘Dancing on Love’ debuted at number eight—”
“Stop. That’s enough,” she said, pulling into the lot of Play Hard Sports. He didn’t need to add insult to her injury. That success had belonged to her husband, as well. Didn’t Brad realize how hard it was for her to hear all this? Putting the car in Park in the fire lane outside the front doors, she reached into the back for her purse.
Brad grabbed her arm as she swung open the car door. “Please, just think about it,” he said. “It could solve a lot of problems—for everyone.”
Maybe giving him that song would be the answer to her professional problems, but it would also solve his, and she just couldn’t bring herself to assist him in any way. “Forget it, Brad. I’m not helping you.” She paused before turning back. “And you know what? I do have a great song—you’re just never going to get it.”
* * *
BRAD REPLACED THE gas pump and rubbed his bare hands together for heat as he climbed back into the vehicle. Staring straight ahead through the windsh
ield, he waited for the feeling to return to his numb fingertips. It frustrated him that Melody refused to help him, herself and her family. He needed her. She needed him. Not a position either of them wanted to be in, but one they were in nonetheless. Patrick had mentioned new music they’d been writing for the second CD, so Brad knew there were songs already written, songs that no doubt would be chart-toppers...songs he needed. He couldn’t blame her for her lack of enthusiasm over the project. Obviously helping him was the last thing she wanted to do, but the money would save her home, help her raise her children. It wasn’t like her to let her anger and pride cripple her abilities to care for the twins.
His boarding pass for his flight out of town sat on the passenger seat next to him while Melody’s words from the night before echoed in his mind. Not even planning to spend the holidays with your family...never once considered helping out at the tree farm... She was right. He had come back to Brookhollow for one reason only—to further his career. He’d never considered staying longer than the time necessary to film the promotional stuff for Heartland Country Television. He leaned back against the seat and sighed. All right, then, it was the right thing to do. He would stay. And the decision had nothing to do with the fact that Melody had just admitted to having the song he needed right here. Nothing at all.
* * *
“HEY, HONEY, WHAT are you doing here?” On June Bishop’s face was a look of pleased surprise that quickly turned to one of concern. She ushered Melody inside. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s good,” she told her mother, removing her hat and gloves in the warmth of the family home. “I just came by on my way to work to drop off the hockey pads you asked me to pick up for Josh for Christmas.”
“Oh, fantastic! Perfect timing, actually.”
The smell of pumpkin pie wafted through the air. “It smells great in here,” Melody said. “You’re baking?” In their home growing up, there had always been fresh, homemade baked goods and bread. She’d never even tasted a store-bought cookie until she’d moved in with Patrick.
The Mistletoe Melody Page 10