Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Don’t you want to check my wrists, too?” Trina said tauntingly, wiggling her fingers at Beat.
“Nah,” he drawled without missing a beat. “Sounds like your wrists are used to being cuffed. Hers aren’t.”
“Beat,” Melody breathed, frowning up at him. Why did he look and sound so angry?
Trina cracked a knuckle. “I see your mother has properly poisoned you against me.”
“She didn’t, actually. That’s not her style. I can make my own judgments.”
Melody grabbed his hand and squeezed, imploring him without words to look down at her. In the great scheme of things, it didn’t really matter if Beat and Trina liked each other. In fact, there was an extremely high probability that they wouldn’t. The past was already working against them. For some reason, though, every dart they threw at each other was striking Melody in the process. “Please. Please stop.”
His gaze veered toward Mel, running a lap around her face. “Yeah. Okay. I just don’t like this place.” A line moved in his cheek. “I don’t like that Melody Gallard showed up and the so-called Free Loving Adventure Club didn’t appreciate it enough.”
“I haven’t exactly had the chance, have I, golden boy? Or did you miss me getting rolled the minute she arrived?” Trina snapped, before she slowly settled into a cajoling smile, which she sent in Melody’s direction. “There’s always a little celebration back at the house when I get out of the slammer. Who’s ready to party?”
Melvin cleared his throat. “I, for one, wouldn’t mind unwinding—”
“Oh, fuck off, Melvin,” Trina scoffed, sailing down the hallway toward the exit. “You’re not invited. This one’s for my kid.” Just before she walked out of the jail, she turned. “It goes without saying that you’re welcome to stay the night. We’ve got an extra room.”
Melody followed her mother, Beat’s hand warming the small of her back. “Only one?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s a packed house.”
She could feel Beat’s gaze on the crown of her head and slowly raised her eyes to meet it. Were his pupils larger than usual or was it a trick of lighting? Melody wasn’t sure. Nor was she sure what kind of night lay ahead of them.
But odds were, it was going to be interesting.
Chapter Nineteen
Beat and Melody stood side by side, staring down at the twin-sized bed.
Correction: mattress. It was a mattress. On the floor in the corner of a room at the highest point of the house. The attic, if you will. There was no other furniture, except for a row of potted house plants lined up in front of a giant, circular window. The sun had set while Melody and Trina were in jail, leaving the sky a pitch-black canvas full of stars that seemed so close Beat felt he could reach out and rearrange them.
The celebratory music downstairs played loud enough to shake the floorboards beneath their feet. Madonna followed by Skynyrd followed by Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas.” They’d been welcomed back to the house by a boisterous round of applause, and the alcohol had started flowing. Danielle ran around getting release forms signed while whiskey was poured into Solo cups with beer chasers and limes were sliced in the kitchen in anticipation of tequila shots.
There wasn’t a chance in hell Beat was drinking tonight. Too many variables. Their main mission was to reunite Steel Birds, but his side mission was to get Melody back to New York without any further mishaps or harm.
And he was growing extremely skeptical of his odds of success.
Mainly because of the bed. Mattress.
The twin mattress they were expected to share.
Hyperaware of the camera filming behind them, Beat forced a laugh. “Bet you wish you’d stayed in jail.”
Her sides shook with mirth. “It was quieter.”
“Less of a seventies cultlike atmosphere?”
“You don’t think my mother’s living situation holds a certain . . . charm?”
“No.”
“Correct.” She glanced at the door. “I guess we better show our faces downstairs. After all, they’re holding the party in honor of the outlaws. Of which I am now one.”
“Yeah.”
Neither Beat or Melody made a move for the door.
More than life itself, he wanted the camera to leave so he could put his arms around Melody and run his palms over her hair, her face, her back. Put his mouth on her skin and inhale her, just to get her into his lungs. They hadn’t been alone since he’d bailed her out, and he had no idea what took place inside the jail. He only knew a little bit of the sparkle was gone from her eyes and he wanted it back ASAP.
He also knew if he touched her, there was a very good chance they’d end up on that mattress. And the outcome of them getting physical could mean robbing even more of that twinkling life force from Melody’s eyes. That left Beat trapped between a rock and a hard place. His need to touch Melody was a yawning physical ache and yet, if he gave in, she could end up hurt.