“You okay?” He spoke softly against her ear, and her eyes involuntarily fluttered closed. His stubble tickled the side of her face, the smell of his cologne intoxicating her. Her breath quickened. She turned to face him.
“I’m fine.” she breathed.
Devin eased the grip he had on her, dropped his gaze to her lips and kissed her before the thought finished entering his mind. He waited, paused for a fragment of a second to make sure he felt her return the kiss, before pulling her in closer, relieved when she moaned softly and wound her arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and he ran his hands up her back to gently cradle her head. He pressed her against the shelf, suppressing a low growl when he felt her run her hands down his arms and then back up again.
Melody was lost. Utterly, beautifully lost. She pressed herself to him, simultaneously savoring the taste of him and fearing the moment this kiss would end. She let a sigh escape her throat when he gently touched her cheek and mirrored him by gently pressing her fingers into his back just below his shoulder blades. It was so glorious, such a reality-defying kiss, that Mel couldn’t remember anything feeling better than this in a long, long time.
“Ahem.”
Mel’s eyes flew open and she broke away from him, shoving him back a bit and stumbling into the shelf behind her. She looked past him to the door to find Carynne with her brow raised, a trademark grin on her face. She tilted her head at her best friend. “Well, hi there, Melody. Am I interrupting?”
“No! Um,” Mel wiped her mouth with her fingertips and tried to push Devin farther back. He didn’t budge. Flustered, she forced herself to steady her breathing. She glanced up at Devin and found a devilish grin on his face. He was enjoying this. They both were. These assholes. “He was just leaving.” Firming her voice, she stated, “Devin, you were just leaving.”
His grin broke into a broad smile, and he bent to kiss her cheek. “Got it. See you soon, Melody.” Wordlessly, he turned and, offering a quick smile and a nod to Carynne, moved to the door and left.
Carynne didn’t wait until the door closed behind him before screaming the way she did at Bruno Mars concerts. “What the fuck, Mel?! Who is he? Oh my God, wait. Is he the guy?”
Melody groaned, ran a hand over face and grimaced at her friend. “Yes. That’s him. But Carynne, honestly, that was nothing. He just, like, came in and he was asking me about going out and I slipped off the ladder and it was….” She broke off and sighed, shoving at her hair. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Carynne said, placing her hands on her hips and cocking one out for emphasis. “I walk in here and you’re climbing that man like a tree. We’re talking about this.”
Conceding, Mel chuckled. “Can I at least have a drink, first?”
* * *
Devin arrived at his house later that evening to find Pryce on his couch watching the Celtics.
“Don’t you have your own house?”
“Yeah, but there’s no beer in it.”
Devin sank to the couch and swiped the half empty Miller from in front of his brother. “You owe me a six pack.”
“I’m good for it. How are practices going?”
“Not bad. How’s crime-fighting?”
“Not bad.”
This was as good as a heart-to-heart between them. The pair of them had never been much for conversation, and on a night like tonight, after what had just happened, that was fine with Devin. He sat with Pryce watching the game, a small smirk creeping to his face every so often. Everything about Melody - the smell of her, the feel, the taste – was as fresh in his mind as if he had kissed her seconds ago, not hours. If this urge for her, to kiss her again, to touch her again, kept its pace, he’d have to find another way to see her. He’d gone to the courts twice this week with no luck, and after he’d left the store he’d decided not to stop by anymore until it officially opened. Dropping in once was probably okay, but twice was stalking.
His phone buzzed.
Want to meet up tonight? I haven’t heard from you lately, and I’ve been thinking about you. XOXO, Mariah.
Devin sighed, typing a quick response.
Can’t. I have some work stuff to do, but thanks for thinking of me.
“Who’s that?” Pryce asked as he sat up to open another beer on the coffee table.
“Mariah.”
Pryce checked his watch. “At almost 11 PM?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You meeting her or something?”
“Nope. Told her I couldn’t.”
“Something’s wrong with you.”
“Whatever.” Grabbing the remote, Devin kicked the volume up, signaling that this particular discussion was over before it could start. Right now, his focus was elsewhere, and no offense to Mariah, but he already knew what woman he wanted.
Chapter 6
Melody was nervous as all hell, but she was determined to enjoy this grand opening. Everything had been planned, cleaned, quality checked and inspected down to the very last detail. A few hundred people in town had responded ‘yes’ to her grand opening invitation on Facebook, and Melody sincerely hoped that they would all show up. With the sun creeping up behind her, she stood and eyed her new storefront from across the street. The name, Bethany’s Boutique, was written in the same elegant script that graced the Houston storefront, and the text would be back-lit by soft blue light in the evenings. The eaves boasted thick, vertical aqua and white stripes, and the carefully selected costume jewelry in the window display began to sparkle in the early sunlight. If it weren’t for a bird landing on the sign’s ‘q’ and taking a massive dump just then, the whole scene would have been magical.
Down the block a bit, Carynne’s sunny yellow VW Beetle pulled up at the curb in front of her coffee shop. Disturbing the morning quiet, she leaned out of her window and yelled, “Hey, sexy! Nice eaves!”
“Shh!” Melody stage-whispered. She began a slow jog to the car before her mother and aunt could climb out. Leaning into the passenger window, she pressed a kiss to Bethany’s cheek and reached past the seat to grasp her aunt’s hand. “Morning, ladies!”
“Beth, let me out of here, dammit! This back seat’s got the legroom of a casket.” Gwen slapped the headrest in front of her as Melody opened the door for them. “Carynne dear, you must not be able to have any nighttime shenanigans in this thing. Back in my day, we had a ’65 Chevelle that you could squeeze a mattress into if you…”
“Gwen!” Bethany exclaimed as Melody and Carynne stifled wide-eyed laughs. “Sorry girls. We had Mimosas with breakfast.”
“With breakfast or for breakfast, Mama?”
“You know me too well.” Bethany climbed out of the car and slid the seat forward for her sister. Stretching, she patted her only child on the back. “So, you putting me to work today?”
“Of course not! But I am going to cover your eyes and lead you down the street blind.”
Bethany chuckled. “Fine, but if you trip me, little girl, I’ll have your ass.”
Melody led her mother down the street, Carynne and Gwen in tow, until they stood directly in front of the store. Uncovering her mom’s eyes, Melody watched as she took it in for the first time. Bethany gasped and covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes.
“Melody!”
“Surprise!” Melody put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “This one’s named after you, too.”
“Honey, you said you’d name this one for yourself.” Bethany swiped at a tear with her knuckle.
“I decided against it. I wanted consistency in case I open a third store later. It’s Bethany’s in Houston, it’s Bethany’s here. Besides, you’re the reason I started my own business, Mama. This is for you.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s gorgeous, sweetness!” Gwen came up to Melody to pat her twice on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Auntie. Shall we go in?”
“Wait,” Bethany said, a sweet, watery smile still on her face. “I have something for you.” She reached into her purse, and slowly, carefully, pulled out a flat, rectangular package. It was wrapped with cream-colored paper, daintily tied with a gold ribbon.
“Oh, mama.” Melody said. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s nothing big. Just something to commemorate this opening, and to commemorate your coming home.”
Taking it, Melody carefully untied the ribbon and tore at the edges of the paper until it fell away.
“Oh, Mom. Oh, my God.”
It was a photo she’d seen only a few times before. Her mother had kept it in a box in the top of her bedroom closet. It was sepia-toned, edges frayed and faded by time even as it lay safe in the frame. In the photo was her mother, just two or three years old, in the arms of her grandmother, Marjorie. Grandma Marjorie had passed away when Melody was small, but she remembered her hugs, her strong, wrinkled hands and the way she always smelled like lavender and cigarette smoke. Bethany had named Melody in her mother’s honor; wanting a somewhat modern name for her little girl with the same sound and cadence as her own mother’s.
And on a chair, in front of Marjorie, face aged with strife and love and experience and unreal beauty, was Adelaide, Melody’s great-grandmother. She’d never met her – Adelaide had passed away in 1930 – but Melody had heard more about her life than about any other member of her small family. Her great-grandmother was born a slave in Louisiana in 1856. When she was nine, slavery was abolished, but her family hadn’t yet found out. So, in 1866, almost a full year after abolition, Adelaide and her older brother ran way, having heard about Native American territory north of Texas. They landed with a freed family in what would soon become Oklahoma, and she met a boy from that family that she would fall in love with. They’d move to Texas in 1874, marry, and start a family.
Melody drew her life’s inspiration from what little she knew about the smiling woman in that photo. Every challenge she’d ever faced paled in comparison to what Adelaide went though, and because she knew they shared blood, Melody always knew she could do anything she attempted.
Mel’s eyes drifted over the faces of the women in the photo, a feeling she couldn’t quite explain overwhelming her. In the lower right corner of the picture was a small, folded kerchief, browned from age, but still, the carefully embroidered flowers on it were visible. It was Adelaide’s, and the first thing she made for herself after having run away.
Melody absently wiped the tears from her face and threw an arm around her mother. “Let’s put it up in the shop. Right in the front. I want great-grandma to see what we built.”
* * *
Three hours later, the store was officially open and buzzing. Carynne had closed her shop for the morning, leaving a sign on her door that read ‘Coffee at BB’s.’ She’d hauled over her bar-pump espresso machine and a few dozen muffins to serve for free. Bethany had gone home and returned with homemade donuts to go with the coffee, and Gwen had stayed to try on all the jewelry. Melody busied herself answering questions, posing for photos for the local newspaper, tending to customers and helping Leana master the cash register. Crystal, one of Melody’s part-timers, obsessively folded and re-folded clothes that patrons had picked up and put back down, nearly growling at children as they scuttled between displays. When Melody paused to count, there were twenty-nine shoppers in the store and it was only 10:30 AM.
She spotted Viola Talbert in the large, turquoise armchair near the front of the store, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Mrs. Talbert had to be somewhere north of 100 years old, having been ancient since Melody was a baby. Fearing that Mrs. Talbert’s dying in the armchair would put a damper on business, she went to check for a pulse.
“Mrs. Talbert?” She gently patted the woman’s veiny hand. She chuckled when the old woman’s mouth dropped farther open and a snore fell out. “Mrs. Talbert, wake up.”
“It’s no use.” Carynne came to Melody’s side and crossed her arms. “Dead to the world, that one. She shows up to my shop almost every weekday and promptly falls asleep on the loveseat.”
Melody turned to her. “Does she buy something first?”
“Nope. Says coffee runs right through her.”
“Tea?”
“Makes her ‘tinkle’ too much.” Carynne lifted her hands to make air quotes. Melody cackled.
“Well it does!” Mrs. Talbert snapped, suddenly conscious, and sat up. “And you’d do well to let me sleep, Melody. I might buy this chair if I like it enough.”
“It’s not for sale, Mrs. Talbert. Just the clothes, shoes and accessories.”
“Well,” she harrumphed. “I might as well enjoy my time with it.” She leaned back again. “And since Carynne doesn’t appreciate my business, I might just spend time here now.”
Carynne grinned. “You have to purchase something for it to be business, Mrs. T. And you know you’re welcome to sleep on my couch any time.”
“Same here,” Melody said.
Mrs. Talbert smiled. “Good girls.” She paused. “Melody dear, are you still single?”
Oh, boy. Here we go. Melody eyeballed her cautiously. “Um, yes ma’am.”
“The young man that brings me my groceries is single too. Now that you’re back in town, I’ll introduce you. Your aunt mentioned that you were looking for someone.”
“Oh no, that’s okay Mrs. Talbert. I’m fine. And I’m not looking for someone.”
“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you were single. And you need to meet someone! The both of you!” She furrowed her brow. “You young ones better be careful!” Mrs. Talbert pointed a bony finger back and forth between them. “You’re so focused on your careers! By the time I was your age, I’d already been married for a decade! You want children, don’t you? A family? Both of you, don’t let those eggs dry up.”
“Not my eggs, Mrs. T! Why, the pure horror!” Carynne clutched at pretend pearls and braced herself against the window dramatically. She stifled a giggle as Mrs. Talbert’s face continued to sour. Melody elbowed her friend in the ribs.
“We know, Mrs. Talbert. We promise to be on the lookout. Enjoy the chair!” Melody pivoted and moved away, leaving Carynne with Mrs. Talbert, and nearly collided with someone with, from the feel of it, very impressive pecs. She looked up. Of course Devin was here right now.
“Hello again Melody.”
She sighed. “Did you hear any of that?”
He gave an apologetic shrug. “Not much.”
“How much is not much?”
“Mostly just the parts about the grocery guy and your eggs drying up.”
She sighed again, passively rubbing at one temple, then chuckled a bit. “Great.”
“I mean, hey. Maybe you should consider going out with the guy that brings her groceries. He’s single you know.” A teasing smile played on his face.
“Shut up. And weren’t you trying to convince me to go out with you not very long ago? Now you’re passing me off to the grocery guy? Typical.”
“I am the grocery guy.”
“What?”
He stepped close to Melody, speaking quietly. “I’m the guy that brings Mrs. Talbert her groceries.” He rocked back on his heels looked over at her before he continued. “Last year my brother – he’s a cop – pulled her over and found that she had an expired license. As in ten years expired. She couldn’t get it renewed and the store’s kind of far away, so I’ve just been helping out.”
Melody crossed her arms, fighting the urge to do something akin to swooning. “That’s nice of you.” She tilted her head and looked up at him. “So, you coach kids, you deliver groceries to old ladies. What don’t you do?”
“I don’t date you.”
The air stilled between them in the busy store, and she raised her brow when he op
ened his mouth again.
“Yet.”
Mariah Watts entered the trendy new boutique with one mission in mind: find something that would knock Devin Parker’s fucking socks off. For whatever reason, he’d been too busy to meet her for a second date, so she was just going to have to make herself available whenever and wherever he was. If that meant showing up for a basketball game at Spring Branch High School to pretend to watch him coach those little cretins, so be it. She wanted Devin, and she’d have him, simple as that. She spotted an orange bodycon dress on a nearby rack and moved to toward it, her pristine heels clicking against the sparkling floor. She picked it up, slowly turning it in her hand. Low in the front and the back. This would get his attention. Just then, she heard that voice. His voice.
She turned, searching for him above the racks of clothes. She spotted him then, long and lean and delicious-looking as ever. And – she stepped to the right to get a better view – he was talking to some woman. Grinning at her. Flirting with her, apparently. She felt the envy begin to grow low and cold in her belly. Who the hell did Devin think he was? Holding the dress up in front of her face as if still considering it, she moved close enough to hear his words. His voice was low, but she picked up everything.
“So, what do you think? We could meet there for a beer. Or watch the game at my house if you want.”
Mariah’s mild envy morphed to haughty anger. He was inviting some bitch – this bitch – to his house? Hell, Mariah didn’t even know where he lived, or she’d have dropped by ages ago to screw him silly and demand he make time for her. She shifted again and lowered the hanger just enough to get a good look at who he was talking to.
She was tall. A decent enough face, but it was plain, undistinguished, with very little makeup. How sad and quaint and tacky. Her gaze slid down the woman’s body. So, Devin went for homely, did he? How sad for him. She was disappointed in his poor choices, but this was nothing she couldn’t fix. Mariah hatched a plan as she turned to head to the register. All Devin required was a little more persistence, a little guidance in the right direction. She thrust the dress at the cashier. “Just this.”
Mostly Love Page 4