He set the equipment down on the shore and waved as David spotted him. “Hey, Brad, come on. Uncle Ethan and I could use some help. Those guys are kicking our butt.” He gestured toward his mom and brother.
“Hey, I’m not used to the uneven surface,” Ethan grumbled as the group made their way closer to shore to wait for Brad to lace up.
“Good excuse as any, I guess,” Melody said.
Brad lowered himself to the ground and tugged off a boot, fighting his nerves. Luke hadn’t mentioned that the family would be there, and while he was happy for the opportunity to spend more time with David and Josh, he suspected that Ethan and Jim wouldn’t be pleased to see him. Still, he was ready to accept whatever they had to say. He deserved whatever was coming, no matter how bad.
Jim hung back, his expression tough to read, but Ethan’s dark look was easy enough. “Monroe,” he said tightly.
“Hey, Ethan.”
Ethan scanned the trail behind him. “Where’s your entourage?”
“I assume you mean the Heartland Country Television crew? They left last week. We’re done filming.”
“So why are you still here?”
“Ethan,” Melody interjected with a quick glance at the boys.
Brad shifted on the cold ground and abandoned his skates. Maybe he should go. He obviously wasn’t welcome here.
“He’s teaching me to play guitar!” Josh chimed in excitedly.
“He’s what?” Ethan turned his attention to Mel.
She looked uncomfortable, but she nodded.
Ethan’s cell rang in the pocket of the coat he’d discarded on the snowbank. He hesitated a moment before skating to the side to answer it. A second later, he was saying to Jim, “Come on! We’re needed at the station. Sorry to cut out so early, guys.” He dropped to the snowbank to untie his skates. Looking up at Melody, he asked, “You going to be okay?”
“Of course.”
“Okay...” Turning to Brad, he said, “Watch yourself around my family.”
* * *
MELODY STUDIED BRAD as he stood, skates on, hockey stick in hand. Dressed in a pair of navy ski pants and a formfitting, blue, down-filled jacket, he looked ready for the slopes of Vermont. He was far too well dressed for a game of shinny hockey in Brookhollow—and far too handsome. She felt her cheeks burn at the thought and quickly glanced away. Her brother’s unfriendly warning had been a bit much, but she couldn’t expect them to welcome Brad with open arms. In fact, she would have been hurt if they had.
Steve tossed out the puck and the game began again. They played two-on-two, with one goalie for each team. But with Brad’s unsteadiness on the ice, she scored a goal for Josh’s and her team.
“Where did you learn to play this well?” Brad asked, skating up next to her. He was slightly out of breath.
Melody brushed her hair away from her face. “I grew up with two hockey-crazed brothers and now I have twin boys of my own—what choice did I have but to learn to kick butt?”
“Well, I grew up only with sisters, so go easy on me, okay?” He winced, and Melody slowed her pace a little.
“Your leg bothering you?” She’d noticed him favoring it while playing, and she had also been aware of his slight limp when he’d walked into town. It seemed to have gotten a little worse every day since he’d been there.
“It’s not too bad.”
“Liar. Your limp has been getting worse,” she said.
“It’ll be fine once I resume my physio sessions back in Nashville,” he said, positioning himself in front of her to battle for the puck.
That’s right, she thought. He had a life in Nashville and therapy sessions he was missing in order to be here. Had what she’d said to him about using his family really affected him? Or was he just here in hopes of getting her song? She was so distracted she missed the puck drop and Brad snagged it away with ease, skating toward Steve in net and softly sending the puck past him, earning him high fives from his teammate.
Josh skated to the edge of the rink and collapsed in the snowbank. “I’m done.”
“David, are you ready to go, too? Or do you want to play longer?” Melody asked.
“Can we stay?” David asked.
Melody glanced at Brad. “How are you holding up?”
“Great. Besides, I just tied the score, so we can’t leave yet. When Luke gets here we can play two-on-two again,” he suggested.
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said with a laugh. “Every time the poor guy tries to leave the house, his mother and Vic drag him back for something.” She took her position across from Brad, set her stick on the ice and nodded for David to drop the puck. “Ready.”
“Think you can take me and Brad all by yourself?” her son challenged.
“Without a doubt,” Melody answered. “Drop it.” Her eyes locked with Brad’s and the amused look on his handsome face made her breath catch in her chest. As the puck hit the ice, she stumbled a bit, missing the opportunity to steal it.
Brad skated around her and passed the puck to David. “Without a doubt, huh?” he whispered as he whizzed toward the net. “Over here, I’m open,” he said.
Not for long. Skating hard, Melody advanced to him as the puck sailed across the bumpy ice toward their sticks. Not slowing down, she collided with Brad and captured the puck.
“Whoa,” was all she heard before Brad crashed to the ice. The sound of his head bouncing off the cold surface made her wince.
She dropped her stick and quickly knelt beside him. “You okay?” she asked, as his eyes shut and his head dropped to the side.
Apparently not.
* * *
THE COLD WETNESS seeping through his sweater beneath the edge of his jacket at his waist felt almost real this time. Brad waited for the familiar sequence of events to play out in the dream. Any second now he’d experience a shot of pain in his...head?
“Brad! Can you hear me?”
Melody? What was she doing in this dream? Feeling two soft, warm hands cup his face, he allowed his eyes to flutter open and expected to see an overcast sky and big white snowflakes falling. Instead, he was staring into a pair of beautiful dark eyes. Long, dark strands of hair hung against his exposed neck and the smell of gingerbread lingered in the air. His eyes closed again, and a slight wave of nausea overtook him.
“Brad!”
The voice calling his name sounded far away, but it was just loud enough to create an echo in his ears. One that made his head throb. “Shh,” he whispered.
The voice softened, lowered and drew nearer to his ear. A warm cheek touched his cold one. “Brad, open your eyes,” the voice urged.
He did, and despite the double vision, he smiled up at the two Melodys hovering above him. “You smell like cookies.”
“What?”
“Gingerbread—” he sniffed the air “—and maybe a hint of cinnamon.”
“Okay, you must have a concussion. Stay still. I’ll go get Luke.”
“No! Don’t leave.” He gripped her arm as another wave of nausea washed over him. With his other hand, he felt the uneven ice near his leg and his hockey stick. Clearly he was on his back on the lake, but he hadn’t a clue how he’d gotten there. “What happened?” he asked, attempting to sit up. Whoa, bad idea. He lay back down and three smaller faces appeared above him. Okay, the twins were really messing with his vision.
“Mom bodychecked you to get the puck,” Josh said.
At least he thought it was Josh.
“I did not,” Melody protested. “It was an accident.”
“No way,” Steve insisted. “It was totally a direct hit...and an illegal one. Brad didn’t even have the puck.”
“You took me out of the game?” Despite the throbbing in the back of his head, her competitive nature made him laugh.
“I didn’t mean to,” Melody mumbled. “Can you sit up?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He tried, but when he did his surroundings spun out of control. “Maybe not. You know what? I’m okay here. I’ll just sleep it off.”
“You can’t sleep. You could have a concussion. We should get you to the clinic.”
“What’s going on?” Luke asked, joining the group.
“He fell,” Melody said.
“Mom pushed him,” David said.
Luke looked at Melody in surprise. “But I thought you two were...communicating.”
From the ground, Brad tried to swipe at Luke’s leg. “Shh, don’t tell her I said that. We’re making...progress...” The mumbling protest died on his lips as everything started to go black again. His eyes were too heavy to hold open, but the voices continued around him. He must still have been conscious.
“He needs to go to the clinic. Can you help me get him back to the van?” Melody asked Luke.
“Sure. Where did you park?”
“Just in the cul-de-sac outside your house,” Melody said. They hoisted Brad up and off the ice.
“Here, I got him,” Luke said, supporting his weight. “You should go bring the van to the street on the other side of that snowbank,” he said, gesturing across the lake.
“Why?”
“He can’t go near the house. Mom keeps looking out the kitchen window, checking for him. If she sees him, he’s as good as Bachelor Number One for the auction tomorrow night.”
That snapped Brad to attention and he jerked his head. Ow! He reached up and winced as his hand touched the goose egg on the back of his head. “Even injured?”
“Knowing Mom, she’d use it as a selling point.”
CHAPTER TEN
“FOLLOW THE LIGHT with just your eyes,” Dr. Carson said, holding her tiny flashlight in front of Brad’s face twenty minutes later.
Brad perched on the edge of the examination table at the walk-in clinic and did as he had been instructed. The waiting room had been almost full of patients hoping to be seen by Dr. Carson, but they’d all insisted Brad go ahead of them, as he had been struggling to remain conscious.
“Good.” The doctor set the light back into the pocket of her lab coat and gently touched the back of his head, then applied pressure to both sides. He winced when her fingers found the lump. “Wow, that’s a doozy. How did it happen?”
“Playing hockey on the lake behind the old Kingston home—my friends Luke and Vic’s house,” Brad said. He couldn’t give her any more detail than that. All he knew was that one moment he had been waiting to accept the puck and the next he had been opening his eyes to a gorgeous pair of dark ones.
“Rough game,” the doctor said, taking his temperature. The thermometer beeped with its reading. “Just a low-grade fever—nothing to worry about. Your vision and hearing are fine. Are you still dizzy?”
“Not so much anymore,” he said. He’d battled dizzy spells on the fast drive to the clinic in the front seat of Melody’s van, as she’d constantly warned him not to sleep. Thankfully, since arriving at the clinic, the dizziness had eased off.
“Well, you’re going to have a headache, and you should stay awake for at least four or five hours. But other than that, I think you’re fine. If the dizzy spells or waves of nausea return, please come back here right away.”
“Will do,” Brad said, climbing down slowly from the table. The back of his head ached. “Any idea how long this pounding on my skull will last?”
“Normally just a few hours. I’ll write you a prescription for some painkillers. Just give me a minute.” Dr. Carson left the room.
Brad wrapped his scarf around his neck and sat down to put his winter boots back on. The simple motion of leaning forward made him slightly queasy. He rested his head against the wall. A baby photo fell onto his lap, and picking it up, he turned to stick it back onto the pegboard. There he saw several photos of his godsons. Born three weeks early at a little less than six pounds each, they had been the cutest babies he’d ever seen. He suspected he remembered that night as well as, if not better than, Melody did.
The band had been playing a gig in Beach Haven, in a tiny dive bar with about ten people scattered throughout. They had been in the middle of the third song in their set of eight when Patrick’s cell phone ringing had caused their amplifiers to make the most god-awful screeching sound. And no matter how loudly the club manager yelled that they’d never play a gig in New Jersey again, they’d taken off, speeding down the highway as quickly as the slick November roads would allow. Patrick had been so nervous, talking on the phone to his panicked wife, promising her he would make it in time. Brad had been determined to get Mel’s husband to her side before she gave birth. He’d gotten a speeding ticket, but he’d delivered his best friend to the clinic in time for the birth of his children. Everything had worked out—that night.
The office door opened and the doctor reentered. “Here you are,” she said, handing him the prescription for the painkillers. “Take no more than two tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and maybe try not to annoy Melody Myers any more on this visit, huh?” she added with a smile.
“Trust me, this was nothing. Last week she threatened to run me over with her van.”
* * *
“SO, SHOULD I DRIVE you back to Luke’s for your rental car?” Melody asked as Brad climbed into the passenger side of the minivan. While he’d been in the clinic, she’d dropped the boys back home with the babysitter and changed for her evening shift at the Green Gator.
“Um...no, I shouldn’t drive while I’m on these prescription painkillers,” he said, putting on his seat belt.
“Back to the tree lot, then?” She turned the van out onto the street.
Brad eyed her. “You changed.” He turned and glanced into the backseat. “Where are the boys?”
“I drove them back to my place. I have to work at the Gator tonight. So, home?”
He hesitated. “How busy will it be there tonight?”
“At your house?” How would she know? She suspected the farm might be a little busy...
“At the Gator.”
“Oh, completely dead,” she said. The nasty weather and driving conditions tended to keep families at home this time of year. “Maybe a couple of staff parties...” She glanced at him. “But surely your head hurts too much for even the slightest noise.”
“Have you been to my house this time of year?” He laughed. “Ow.” He rubbed the back of his head.
He had a point. “Okay, the Green Gator it is.”
He sniffed the air and scanned the van. Giving her a puzzled look, he leaned closer and smelled her hair.
“What are you doing, weirdo?” she asked, moving away from him. She hadn’t had time to shower. The last thing she wanted was him sniffing her.
“I smell gingerbread cookies again,” he said.
“I don’t know...” Then she realized. Her new holiday-scented lotion. “Oh, it’s my body lotion. It’s ginger spice.”
“That delicious smell is coming from your skin?” he asked, intrigued.
Melody swallowed hard and ignored the comment. After a few minutes, she parked the van in the lot of the Green Gator. “Here we are.” She cut the engine, opened her door and jumped down. Never before had she been so grateful for the freezing winter air—now it cooled her warm, crimson cheeks. He thought she smelled delicious. She wished she could define the feeling coursing through her. It was odd, different...not totally unwelcome...which of course made it completely unwelcome. It’s Brad Monroe. Get ahold of yourself.
Inside the bar, only two tables were occupied. “Looks like you have your choice of seats.” She gestured to the empty booths along the wall and the vacant tables near the karaoke stage.
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“I’ll sit at the bar,” he said.
Of course he would. Lifting the gate, she went behind the bar. “Hey T.J.,” she said. He already had his coat and hat on.
“I think you can handle this crowd tonight.” T.J. handed her the keys to the place. “I’m heading out.”
In recent months, he often left her to lock up on their slower nights. She preferred to be alone at the end of the shift, but tonight Brad would be there, and the thought of being in an empty bar with him later that evening made her heart race. She said, “Yeah, I got it. Drive safe.” She tied her black bar apron over her tight jeans and red V-neck shirt. She grabbed a dish towel and emptied the dishwasher. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked Brad.
He removed his coat and draped it over the back of the bar stool. “Water to take another one of these horse pills would be great. The first one doesn’t seem to be doing much.” He opened the bottle and shook one into his hand.
She poured him a glass of water and slid it across the bar. She filled a bowl with peanuts and placed it between them on the counter. Neither of them had eaten yet, and her stomach was rumbling.
“Hey, Mel, can you flick the light switch?” Kyle Johnson, the local DJ and karaoke host, called to her from the staging area, where he was set up for the evening.
“Sure,” she said, hitting the switch for the multicolor floor lighting around the small stage.
“You mean he’s still going to set up when there’s no one here?” Brad said, swallowing the pill and draining the contents of the glass.
“Afraid so, and it looks like they will be this evening’s entertainment,” Melody said, nodding in the direction of a booth in the corner where four twentysomething girls were huddled over the song-selection book, writing their requests on tiny slips of paper. The ever-growing pile on the table in front of them made her cringe. She’d seen several of them in here before—not one could sing a note. “I may need a few of those myself.” She gestured toward the bottle of prescription painkillers still sitting on the bar in front of Brad.
The Mistletoe Melody Page 14