by Evie Nichole
“Dancing,” she murmured. “Dancing is like sex, you know?”
“No.” He held her in the waltz position with firm arms and a very hard frame. “I’ve never felt that way about dancing.”
Then Vittoria’s gaze narrowed. “Perhaps that is why your boots are scuffed. You need to let your partner lead.”
He didn’t have a comment in response to that. It felt like a jab, and he didn’t like it. Not at all.
Chapter Seven
Melody tried not to watch the front of the store. After last night, there was absolutely no way that Cisco was going to show up to help her with her legal problems. That just wasn’t going to happen, and she needed to accept it. Besides, she really shouldn’t want him to show up. She looked like hell, and there was absolutely no reason in the world to allow the best-looking guy she had ever seen see her like this.
Janice stuck her head around the corner. “Are you done with your closing prep?”
“Yes.”
Melody barely managed not to roll her eyes in response to this question. Had there ever been a time that Melody had forgotten or somehow botched the closing? No. Had she ever botched an opening? No. Had she ever botched anything? No! Janice was the one who occasionally forgot to count the safe correctly or put the wrong amount of money in a drop and then screwed up the totals in the safe and the drawer. In fact, that happened probably once a week.
“Okay, well, let’s close up, then.” Janice headed toward the front to lock the door. “It’s almost six.”
Melody bit back her protest. He wasn’t coming. That should have been obvious enough. After the spectacle his girlfriend had made of them last night at the big party, he wouldn’t want to take the chance of making that woman angry. Melody was sure of it.
“Why are you just standing there?” Janice demanded.
Melody forced herself to move. “Sorry. I’m just a little tired. You know, open to close two days in a row is sort of rough.”
“You’re the one who wanted more hours,” Janice shot back. “I’m giving you what I have.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
They quickly closed up the shop and headed out onto the street. It was very apparent that Janice had a date for Saturday night. She was gone before Melody could even say goodbye. The only good part of this whole situation was that Melody had tomorrow morning off. She had five hours to sleep in and then clean her apartment. It was incredible just how disgusting and cluttered a one-room apartment could get.
When Melody finally turned around to start the walk home to her building, she realized that there was someone standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He seemed utterly oblivious to the other foot traffic moving past him. Of course, that was probably because he was a Hernandez and they were just used to people moving out of their way.
“Hi.” Melody barely managed to get the word out. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
Cisco glanced after Janice. “Your boss didn’t seem like the type of woman to appreciate my showing up during work hours or hanging out inside until you finished closing.”
“Oh.” Melody realized that she had been thinking the worst when he was actually trying to be courteous of her. “Well, thank you. And you’re right. The dragon lady isn’t the friendliest person in the world. She doesn’t think employees need things like social lives or sleep.”
“The woman needs to read her labor laws a little more closely,” he muttered. Then he smiled. “Do you have the file with you?”
“The file?” Her brain was stuck on how handsome he was. The man looked so hot in his casual slacks and dark-blue button-down shirt that she was having difficulty thinking past his good looks.
“The legal file, for your grandparents’ estate?” He tilted his head to one side as though he were a little bit amused at her forgetfulness.
“Oh, right!” Melody patted the messenger bag draped over her shoulder. “It’s right in here.”
He turned and pointed to a corner across the street and down about a block. “How about we head for that pub and get some dinner? You have to be starving. We can sit for a while, and you can unwind before we dive into the legal crap.”
“Legal crap?” Melody put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle. “Is that a technical term?”
“Absolutely,” he blustered. His blue eyes were sparkling, and he looked as though he were truly enjoying himself. “I use that legal terminology all the time. It’s very official.”
“All right, then,” she agreed. “Let’s go sit down and get the legal crap out of the way.”
They began walking down the sidewalk. Melody had never been inside that pub before. She was mentally calculating if she had enough room on her credit card to allow her to even purchase a beverage. It was possible. Sometimes the bank let her go over her limit by a few cents here and there. She certainly didn’t have any cash or a debit card that would allow her to buy herself some dinner. She had been planning on having some noodle soup once she got back to her apartment. That was pretty much what she was eating at the moment while she tried to save enough money to get her car fixed.
“Have you ever been here?” He opened the front door of the pub and allowed her to enter before he did. “They have fantastic food. The Irish soda bread is worth killing for.”
“I thought you were supposed to say it’s to die for,” she teased, deliberately avoiding the topic of food or how to pay for it.
His grin left her heart fluttering frantically in her chest like a bird in a cage. “I suppose you could say it’s good either way you want it. Dead or alive.”
“I think you can only enjoy food if you’re alive to taste it.” Not that Melody would actually remember.
Everything in Melody’s diet lately had been bland as hell. Last night’s fare had been the exception since she and Allie had sneaked appetizers off the trays when they had come back to the kitchen for discard. Of course, that essentially meant she was eating trash, but sometimes that was all there was available. Beggars could not be choosers. And right now, Melody was most certainly a beggar.
They went directly to a table and sat down. The pub was filled with wonderful smells that made Melody think of hearty stews and warm bread right out of the oven. There was a bar in the center of the establishment, and it was doing a pretty good amount of business if the number of people crowded around was any indicator. But then it was a Saturday night and everyone should be out with friends or loved ones enjoying themselves.
Somehow, the atmosphere made Melody feel even more out of place. She didn’t like the sensation of knowing she was pretty much excluded no matter where or when she was. The table where they were sitting was in the center of the room. Melody could not help but wonder if Cisco had chosen the location just because he wasn’t about to be trapped into a situation with her where he might be accused of inappropriate behavior. Not that he had anything to fear from her. Melody had a feeling that his girlfriend could probably make Melody’s life a living hell if the woman took the notion to do so.
“So.” Cisco picked up a menu and raised his eyebrow. “Can I suggest the Irish stew with the soda bread?”
“Oh, I’m not hungry.” Her words were absolutely ruined by the fact that her stomach gave out a resounding growl that was so very obvious she could never convince anyone within a ten-foot radius that it was something else.
Cisco sat back in his seat and set the menu on the table. “Melody, what’s wrong? You’re obviously hungry. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are after multiple days of working open to close and then taking on extra hours at a second job too. So, why not just eat?”
She swallowed. What was it about rich people that made them absolutely unable to understand an alternative point of view that did not include access to limitless funds? Clearing her throat, Melody tried to find something to say that would not come out sounding either rude or totally pitiable. “I didn’t figure that it would take long to look at this file.” She took the file in question out of her messenger
bag and set in on the tabletop. “After that, I’ll go home and have dinner.”
“So, you’d prefer to eat at home?” He did not sound convinced. “Later?”
“Yes. I would.” Ugh! Her stomach would not shut up. The scent of the bread and the stew and what smelled like shepherd’s pie and maybe pub fries were making her crazy. “I prefer to eat what I already have than to spend money on something else.”
Something clicked on his face. She saw it happen and she didn’t like it. For some reason, she did not see an immediate judgment from him. Instead, there was something that she would have called a flash of compassion or something equally embarrassing. Mostly because it meant that he was realizing that she couldn’t buy a meal in this place.
Melody cleared her throat. “I figured I would just have a soda.”
She could not afford to buy coffee in the coffee shop where she worked. She brought her lunch when she knew that she was going to get a break and did not spend one red cent on anything. Purchasing a soda in a pub would be a pretty big treat for her. He might not get it, but she did, and that’s pretty much all that mattered.
“I’ll buy you dinner,” Cisco decided. “It’s only fair. I’m the one who dragged you in here.”
“No. Absolutely not.” She put her hand up and felt as though she were about to stand up and leave without getting the help she so desperately needed. “You’re helping me with this legal stuff. You’re doing it because you’re nice and not because you’re getting compensation. So, at this point, let’s just say that I don’t care to feel like that much of a charity case.”
“Fine.” He ground his teeth together. “Then, I’m not going to order anything but a drink either.”
“Whatever you want.” She didn’t really care to feel like this. Of course, she was going to have a difficult time not stealing his plate if he did dare to order food and try to eat it in front of her. Maybe this was for the best.
A waiter approached. He had a pad in one hand and a broad smile on his face. “Cisco! Good to see you! What can I get for you and your lady tonight?”
“Just a couple of sodas,” Cisco told the young man. “And can you bring us a basket of bread too?”
“Sure. Coming right up.” The young man gave Melody a sideways glance of confusion before sauntering off to get their drinks.
Melody was about to argue about the bread, but then Cisco held up his hand. “They don’t charge you for this bread. It’s free.”
“Oh.” Melody’s mouth watered at the thought of eating something like that. Food that did not come in a cheap package was a luxury she rarely got to enjoy.
“Let’s look at this file,” Cisco suggested softly. “I have a feeling that we really need to get this figured out.”
“Why is that?”
“So you can start eating regularly,” he said tersely.
Melody didn’t say anything else about that. How could she? Instead, she opened up her file and pushed it across the table. She didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She just wanted him to solve her little legal issue and move on with his charmed life. He would marry that woman in the blue dress, and the two of them would pop out babies that would probably be born with diamond-studded fingernails or something equally rich and crazy.
He took the file and spread the contents in front of him on the table. The waiter returned with their basket of bread and two soft drinks. Melody immediately started sucking hers dry. It had been weeks since she’d tasted a soft drink, and the caffeine mixed with the wonderful sweet sugary taste of caramel coloring and whatever else they put in that stuff—crack probably—was incredible.
The sliced bread in the basket was still warm and yeasty. It came with a little container of honey butter. Without even realizing how it might look to an outsider, or to anyone really, Melody picked up two slices of bread at once and smashed them through the buttery goodness. She shoved the massive treat into her mouth and began chewing with her eyes closed.
So good. Oh God, this is so good!
Without a word, the waiter returned and set a fresh drink in front of Melody. She nodded her thanks because her mouth was full. Cisco was still poring over the file. It gave her a chance to savor her snack in private. She had a little bit of credit left on her card. She was starting to think she wanted to have another look at that menu. What if there was a cup of soup or something that she could swing? Maybe she should try it? Could the waiter attempt to run her card before he brought the food out? It wasn’t like fast food where they didn’t even give it to you if your card got declined. This was a real restaurant.
“Melody, this is crap,” Cisco said quietly. He looked up from the file and frowned at her. “Did your grandparents set up a trust?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know if they held back enough income from the ranch to cover the death taxes?”
“No clue.” She shrugged and shoved another piece of bread into her mouth. It was free, right? So it didn’t matter that she’d eaten the whole basket because the waiter would bring more in case Cisco really wanted some. “Mr. Watson told me that the best thing to do was to sell the land to cover the taxes. I figured that’s what I’d do. I just didn’t think that the land sale would barely cover the taxes. I think I actually still owed on the taxes.”
Cisco snorted. He didn’t sound as though he believed that was true. “I don’t deny there’s quite a heap of taxes to be paid. But most of that is because your grandparents’ estate hasn’t been paying its taxes for the last several years of their lives.”
Melody stopped chewing. She tried to wrap her mind around that possibility. Why wouldn’t her grandparents have been paying their taxes? They’d been in assisted care. She had visited them once or twice a month when she could get there between work and her broken car. They had died six weeks ago. The funeral home had informed Melody that the fees were already paid and the arrangements had been made. The man at the funeral home had made it seem like her grandparents were the type of people to keep things absolutely in order.
She rolled the bread around in her mouth so that she could speak. “How long?”
“Huh?”
“How long has it been since the taxes were paid?”
“Five years,” Cisco said grimly.
After everything else that had happened, that was not such a surprise to Melody. “So, basically ever since my grandfather went into the nursing home and Mr. Watson took over completely. Great. Basically all of us got screwed by some stupid lawyer who figured he’d just sell out to Paul freaking Weatherby and make all of his problems go away because he thought I’d be too stupid to catch on.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say Paul Weatherby?” Cisco asked in a tight voice.
“Yeah. Why?”
He sat back in his seat and sighed. “I think we’d better just order dinner.”
“What? Why?”
Cisco raised his hand to signal the waiter. “Because this is going to take a while and it’s pretty easy to see that you’re slowly starving to death right before my eyes.”
Chapter Eight
Somehow, someway, Paul Weatherby of the Flying W was involved with Melody and her grandparents’ estate. The thought alone was enough to blow Cisco’s mind. He gazed at the convoluted notes and document trail on the table in front of him and wondered how the entire thing could have gone on for so many years with nobody noticing. Of course, the problem was that Paul Weatherby himself was a captain with the Denver police. He was also well connected in Denver society, which meant he was well connected in the political arena. It was actually conceivable that Paul had encouraged someone in the state assessor’s office to simply look the other way. It would have been like him to do that.
“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.” Melody actually sounded a bit on the petulant side.
Truthfully, the thing with Paul Weatherby wasn’t a big deal. He could have explained it to her quite easily and let her be on her way. Finding a reason to keep Mel
ody here at the pub was more due to the fact that she had consumed the bread in the basket as though she hadn’t seen any kind of food in days. Then there was the drinking her way through three glasses of soda in such a short amount of time that Tyler—their waiter—had been giving Cisco surreptitious glances as though he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the whole strange situation. The woman needed a good meal. That was pretty much the only thing Cisco was sure of. And if he could somehow provide that for her, he was absolutely willing to use the Paul Weatherby thing to his advantage.
“Just let me order dinner,” Cisco told Melody. He sat back in his chair and sighed. Tyler was already bringing two orders of Irish stew and the good soda bread that was Cisco’s favorite. “It will make me feel better since I’m going to make you sit here through this convoluted tale of stupidity.”
Her dark brows arched in surprise. “Convoluted tale of stupidity? Don’t you think that’s a tad dramatic?”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But you have to hear the tale before you make that judgment, and I promise that’s better on a full stomach.”
She had opened her mouth to protest again, but Tyler set a bowl of stew in front of her right at that moment. The longing on her face was pathetic to see. Cisco didn’t know what was going on in her life, but it was obvious that she was going through a tough time.
“Just eat.” He picked up a hunk of soda bread and shoved it into his stew bowl. “It’s really good. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. Eat. Please?”
He needn’t have bothered with that last please because Melody was already digging in as though she hadn’t seen real food in forever. She leaned closer to her bowl and began scooping the stew into her mouth and chewing at a fantastic rate. She ripped off a hunk of bread and held that in her left hand as she used her right for her spoon. In what felt like seconds, she had already finished half the huge bowl.