“What’s up?” I hold up a hand to shade my eyes.
“I’m not just gonna drive away when there’s an unexplained water services truck at your house.” He laughs as if this should be obvious to me.
I shrug and ignore the butterflies in my stomach. “You don’t have to do that. I doubt it’s something big.”
“You really expect me to be the world’s biggest asshole, don’t you?”
I laugh as we walk toward my house, letting my arm brush against his. “You Riders have a reputation, you know.”
“We used to. But now everyone’s dropping like flies, getting engaged and married. Leo, Elliot, and now Chase. All reformed assholes. Well, not Elliot. But still.”
“They all found the one,” I say with a smile, expecting a protest or an eye roll.
“They sure did.” Dylan nods.
His response stuns me, but before I have time to respond, a large man holding a wrench walks out of my townhouse, and I notice that the bottom half of his jeans are soaking wet. “You two live here?” he asks gruffly in a thick Southern accent.
“I do!” I hold out a hand. “I’m Melody Hayes.”
He ignores my invite to shake hands and looks over his shoulder at my home. “Well, honey, you’re pretty much screwed.”
I gasp. “What do you mean?”
“What happened?” Dylan asks the horribly unfriendly plumber guy.
“Busted water heater on the upper level. Your neighbor heard the rushing water and gave us a call around seven this morning, but there was already ’bout a foot and a half of water in there.”
“In there, like, in my house?” I hear my voice rise with panic, and the shock is so blinding I almost don’t notice Dylan’s gentle, comforting arm wrap around my waist.
I’m sure he’s just being nice.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Angry Plumber Man shuts the door of his truck. “I gotta go get some more tools and parts to try and drain the place and dry it out. Looks like you’re goin’ to have to stay with your little boyfriend there for a while.”
“He’s not my—” My voice is tiny and mousy, and I can barely pick my jaw up.
“Thanks,” Dylan says quickly as Bad News Water Guy gets in the truck and drives off.
My feet are seemingly hot-glued to the pavement, and my shock quickly turns into a wash of sadness, and I fight the urge to cry.
You cannot cry in front of your one-night stand, Melody Louise Hayes. You simply cannot.
“Shit, Melody.” Dylan turns to me with concern in his brown eyes. “I’m so sorry. I feel like this is completely my fault.”
I choke out a laugh. “Did you sneak in and break my water heater?”
“Well, no. But…” He frowns and scratches the back of his neck. “I took you home with me last night. If you had been here, you would have known and called hours sooner, and your place would be okay.”
I shake my head and give him a playful tap on the nose. “You’re insane. I was a very…willing participant last night, if you didn’t notice.”
“Oh, I noticed.”
“Yeah, well, anyway.” I throw my hands up. “Not your fault. At all.”
“Let’s just see how bad it is.” He walks up the step to my front door, which was left open by the plumber.
My heart sinks as I hold my hand to my mouth and feel myself stop breathing. Everything is completely drenched on the lower level. Parts of the ceiling have caved in from the water. “This has to be the sign,” I say, peering around the sopping-wet remnants of my colorful home.
Dylan frowns. “The sign?”
“Of course. This is the answer I’ve been searching for. My career, my plan…it’s all clear now. The universe is telling me to get on that boat!” I turn to him. “Water heaters don’t just randomly break on the one night I happen to sleep…somewhere else.”
He raises his brows. “Water heaters do randomly break, especially if you don’t get them checked out regularly.”
“Oh hush, Mr. Responsible Appliance Man.” I run my hand along my purple sofa, which appears to be pretty much ruined from the water that poured out of the ceiling. “The universe wants me out of this house,” I whisper, trying to focus on the meaning of this and distract myself from the fact that most of what I own is virtually destroyed.
Dylan shakes his head slowly and swallows hard.
I start to feel overwhelmed with fear and panic, so I quickly step outside to do a breathing exercise. It’s the only way to relax myself.
Completely careless about the fact that I’m still wearing a cocktail dress, I sit down on the sidewalk curb and close my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dylan walks up behind me.
“I’m meditating,” I respond without opening my eyes, flicking a hand for him to shoo. “Finding my center and my peace.”
“The only thing you should be finding right now is a number for your insurance company and a place to stay,” he says matter-of-factly, reluctantly sitting next to me. “Does it have to be crisscross applesauce?” He imitates my sitting position, and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s called Padmasana, or the lotus pose. Unless you’re in kindergarten.” I open one eye and glance at him teasingly. “It grounds the body and binds the mind and spirit with the earth.”
“It just hurts my ass.”
I slump down and drop my head into my palms, letting my hair fall all over my face. “I have no earthly idea what to do. The cruise doesn’t start for a month, and I have nowhere to stay until I leave. My best yoga friends from work both live in minuscule studio apartments, and I can’t bother Chase and Whitney. I mean, shitballs, they just got engaged. The last thing they need is a shacker.”
Dylan stifles a laugh. “Yeah, you’d have to buy some serious noise-canceling headphones.”
“Anyway.” I stand up quickly, brushing off my dress. “This totally isn’t your problem. I’ll figure it out.” I smile at this man I’ve known for about twelve hours, thinking about how he got dragged into this bizarre turn of chance. “The universe has a clear message for me, that’s for sure.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. That you should have replaced your water heater, like, a year ago.”
I scrunch my face.
He looks like he’s thinking hard about what he’s going to say next. “You could stay with me.”
“Hah!” I snort, quickly pushing away the mix of giddy excitement and insanely dirty thoughts that swirl through my mind at those words. Memories of the hot, tight, wild, and magical hours of last night slam into my head. “I barely know you. You could be a murderer. I watch true crime,” I tease with a pointed finger.
“Like I said…” He holds his hands up and draws back, a sweetness in his calm and steady expression. “I’m just a kicker. And I seriously feel like this whole shitshow is on me.”
“Well, you’re seriously wrong.” I arch a brow. “I got this. I promise. I’m gonna call my friends and see if they can help me save some things, like my—oh my God! My plants!”
I rush back into the soaked townhouse to make sure my thirty-one adorable succulents are okay and didn’t get drenched. Thankfully, their places on various shelves and countertops kept them safe.
I breathe a sigh of relief and push my hair to one side, offering a smile to the very confused football player in my doorway. “Please go to practice, or whatever you guys have to do today.”
“Melody.” He gestures around at the wet mess, his lips parted and eyes concerned. He’s so freaking handsome. “I can’t just—”
“Dylan!” I walk over to him and place my hands on his rock of a chest, remembering last night and the way his skin felt all over me, his rock-hard muscles, the way I’d never come alive like that…maybe ever. “I promise I’m totally fine.”
I want him to stay so bad, and not just because I desperately need help picking up the pieces of my life. But he doesn’t even know me. It was just a one-night stand. I can’t be that ridiculous needy girl who
starts clinging to him, especially because he is so, so wrong for me.
He sighs and looks around. “Are you sure? I feel like a dick.”
I push against him, and he laughs softly as I shove him through the door. “I’m a big girl, Dylan. Please don’t get in trouble with your team because of me. It’s just a month until I leave.”
He reluctantly looks back at his car. “All right. You have my number, right? I’m sort of…invested now. So, you know, give me a call if you—”
I want nothing more than to call you, Dylan Rivera. “No.” The word comes out harsher than I intended. “I can handle it,” I say through a forced laugh. “I get you’re trying to do the whole heroic, good-guy thing, and I totally love that, but…it was just a hookup. We should probably leave it at that.”
Because I have an enormous crush on you, but I also know that you’re completely wrong for me, and if I keep talking to you, I’ll end up with a heart that’s just as broken as my water heater.
His eyes flash and darken. “Okay, Melody.”
“Bye, Dylan,” I say, slightly louder than a whisper.
He smiles, so sweet and sinful. He’s an athletic, clean-cut, gentle but dangerous recipe for disaster, and one night is all I’ll ever get.
I walk back into the townhouse and hear his sporty, rich-football-star BMW starting in the parking lot.
I want the one. The fated mate. The forever guy. And mine is probably just as much of a soul-searching free spirit as I am. He has to be, right? Psychic Angela told me years ago that my fated mate would match me perfectly in mind, soul, and spirit. He most definitely wouldn’t make fun of my Padmasana on the sidewalk.
My mind wanders back to my meeting with the psychic when we talked about my soul mate, and my heart flips as I remember what she said.
She said I’d meet him “on the water.” Like…on a cruise ship.
Not in a freaking football stadium.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try hard to remember what else she said about finding the one. I’d know he’s the one after the leaves fall. So, I guess…in autumn?
Whatever, I’ll worry about that once I’m on the boat.
No more wasting time or nights or feelings on corporate-run sports-franchise poster boys who think I’m ridiculous. My direction is laid out in a way so obvious it can’t be ignored.
And it has nothing to do with him.
Three
Dylan
I’m not an asshole. So why do I feel like one right now? That poor girl, she’s in so far over her head with that damn flood, and I get the feeling that her vibrant yet somewhat scatterbrained self is gonna need help with this.
But she told me to leave. And considering that the sexual tension between us after last night is basically fucking palpable, and every time we look at each other, we both relive the reckless and sizzling-hot sex we were having twelve hours ago, that was probably for the best.
Melody’s insanely hot and pretty entertaining, if slightly annoying and loud and way too superstitious. A sign? A fucking sign? I mean, good God. Who thinks like that? She’ll probably go see a psychic or something to try to figure out if her water heater broke so she’d know what job offer to take.
I slow to a stop at a red light, wondering why I feel so fired up about this whole situation and why I can’t stop thinking I’m so damn responsible for it. I sigh deeply and look at the passenger seat, the black leather interior noticeably dusted with red glitter from her dress.
I roll my eyes and try to brush some of it off, noticing a little colorful square thing poking out from under the seat. I glance up to make sure the light is still red, then reach down and pick it up.
It’s a wallet, with a little drawing of a cactus-looking plant. The plant is smiling. Underneath it, it has the words be sweet and stand tall in sparkly letters.
There is only one person on the planet who would choose this to hold her money and ID.
Without any hesitation, I whip into the left lane when the light changes to green and make a fast U-turn.
“Can’t get rid of me, apparently. No matter how crazy and quirky and annoyingly energetic you may be,” I say under my breath as I pull back into the complex of townhouses.
I park quickly and get out with the wallet, jogging up to Melody, who’s sitting on her doorstep, looking flustered as she talks on the phone.
I smile and wave the wallet in the air.
She gasps, and her sky-blue eyes spark and widen. “Oh my gosh!” she mouths silently, standing up. “Give me a second, Whit. I’ll call you back. Someone’s here.” She walks toward me and grins slowly. “Yeah, it’s…uh…the plumber. I gotta go.”
“Either this is yours, or a thirteen-year-old girl broke into my car and put this wallet in the passenger-side floorboard.” I give her a teasing nod.
“Okay. Rude.” She crosses her arms and stifles a laugh. “But I do appreciate you coming back to bring it to me.”
I hand it to her slowly, letting my gaze linger on her gorgeous face. Her delicate features look strained. Her giant eyes, which are usually bursting with wildness, are rimmed in red, and her thick lashes look wet.
“Have you been crying?” I ask, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her face.
“No!” she says quickly, forcing a smile and wiping the smudges of makeup under her eyes.
I tilt my head and raise my brows.
“Okay, just a little,” she confesses, dropping her gaze to the ground. “But I’m fine. Seriously.” She reaches for the wallet.
I pull it back as soon as she tries to snatch it away. “Tell me where you’re going to stay.”
She jumps forward and attempts to grab her wallet again. “Not your business, Dylpickle. Gimme my wallet.”
“Jesus. Never call me that again.” I hold it up even higher so she can’t reach, which draws her closer to me. Her incredible body is only inches from mine, and the space between us is hot. “You’re not getting it back until I know you’ll be staying somewhere safe.”
She rolls her eyes and breathes deeply. “Dylpickle is probably the coolest nickname you’ll ever have. And I’m gonna go to the Seaside Motel near the beach. It’ll be fine until my cruise leaves.”
“Melody!” I shift the wallet so that it’s behind my back, enjoying the playful irritation in her flashing eyes and pursed lips. “That place is a literal dive. There’s always some sketchy shit going down there. You can’t stay there.”
She swings her arm around my body, giggling quietly and trying again to take her wallet, but I quickly switch it to the other hand and hold it above my head again. “I will be fine.”
“No.” I hold the wallet up even higher, and she jumps, trying to grab it, her soft, shiny hair bouncing like pink waves. “That place is not safe.”
She gives an exaggerated eye roll. “What difference does it make to you? We met, like, yesterday. And we agreed we’re polar opposites and whatever”—she gestures back and forth between us—“happened, it was one time only.”
“I told you.” I narrow my eyes and look at her sternly. “I’m invested now.”
She bites her lip and relaxes her shoulders, tilting her head to the side. “Well, it’s all I can afford. I have to fix the place before I can rent it out when I leave. Even with insurance, this whole thing is gonna cost a metric butt-ton. And yoga teachers don’t exactly make the cash that NFL players do.” She looks up at me with fire in her gaze. “Even though we’re every bit as athletic.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” I can’t resist adding a wink, both of us knowing full well I’m referencing Melody’s unmatched flexibility and athleticism in the bedroom.
Her face flushes a little, but her mouth slides into a smirk that radiates confidence and sexuality and all of the wild Melody-ness I just couldn’t get enough of last night. “So give me my wallet and let me move into my new…vintage place.”
“Vintage?” I smile and inch my face closer. Her obnoxiously stubborn positivity is somehow both annoying me
and turning me on. “Is that what the hipsters are using in place of disgusting?”
She lets out a defeated sigh and looks up at me. “I don’t really have a choice.”
Everything about Melody Hayes is completely absurd. From the zodiac signs to the Hindu yoga poses to the tiny plants she has everywhere, she is the most outlandish person I’ve ever met. Her annoyingly fascinating wildness is the last thing I need, and my attraction to her makes absolutely no logical sense.
But here she is, essentially homeless because of a very random turn of events I can’t stop feeling responsible for.
“Come and stay with me.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can think for another second.
Her eyes widen for a split second, then she swallows and shakes her head quickly. “I already told you, I appreciate the heroism, but we barely know each other. And from what we do know about each other…” She raises her brows and takes an exaggerated tour of my body with her eyes. “That’s a pretty…dangerous idea.”
I bite my lip and look out across the parking lot. “Melody, I’m not letting you go to that shitty motel when I have two extra bedrooms and live by myself in a beachside condo that’s way too big for me. We could just be…roommates.” I hold her gaze as steadily as I can. “Temporarily. Until your booze cruise. Nothing more.”
Her brows are worried as she looks over her shoulder at the townhouse, her hair blowing in the soft breeze. She looks at me with a mix of emotions swirling across her face. “Dyl—”
“Don’t say pickle.” I hold up her wallet again and dangle it in front of her. “And you’re not getting this back until you agree. Only until you find another safe place you can stay.”
She laughs and pushes her hair behind her ears. “You’re crazypants, you know that?”
I shrug. “I’m just involved in your living situation now.”
“You were just randomly in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I narrow my eyes and match her energetic gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood through me as our bodies get closer. “I thought nothing was random, Miss Universal Plans.”
Thrill Ride Page 2