Wreck the Halls(50)
Vaguely, Beat registered what Danielle was saying, but mainly he replayed Melody’s words. How she’d said them, her anxiety and apprehension clear. Yeah, they were far from done with the Trina conversation. Today was going to be hard enough for her without him forcing her to talk about their encounter last night, however. They’d get there. But right now, all he wanted to do was relax her nerves.
He was dying to walk straight to Melody and wrap her in his arms, but holding her without resolving last night first would be too much, right? Still, he had to do something to ease her worries. After shouldering his duffel, he closed the distance between them and picked up her bag. Then he took her hand and twined their fingers together, squeezing.
Looking into her troubled eyes, he quickly replayed their conversation from last night.
“Do you need to see my Springsteen impression, Peach?”
At the very least, he’d distracted her. “Um. What?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She blinked. “I mean, who could turn an offer like that down?”
Maintaining a serious expression, Beat cleared his throat. He was a god-awful singer, but the growling was hereditary and that’s all he needed for a proper Bruce imitation. Lowering his forehead until it was an inch from hers, he drawled the opening lines to “Born to Run.”
Slowly, her entire face brightened.
Her jaw dropped, the twinkle returning to her eyes, along with the little dimple on her right cheek. Even as he stumbled over the lyrics, he’d never felt more like a hero in his life. Eventually the impact of her delight became too great and he was forced to trail off. With a cough to ease the pressure in his throat, he added, “Your mother isn’t in a Chester Cheeto cult.”
Melody’s lips twitched. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can.”
She let out a breath. “When I’m around her, I’m sixteen again. You know? That awkward girl you met a million years ago who thought choosing teal rubber bands for her braces was living life on the edge.”
“That awkward girl was the best.”
She gave him a grateful half smile. “That’s easy to say when you weren’t her.”
“I was awkward, too. But I’d already gotten really good at hiding it.”
She studied him with a slight indent between her brows, as if trying to read into the revealing statement. “For the record, my orthodontist implied clear rubber bands were a boring choice. I’m pretty sure he was a sadist.”
She’s so wonderful, my stomach is going to fall out. “I’m telling you, Mel. You looked great in teal.”
“My sixteen-year-old self is smiling down on us. With wax stuck between her teeth.” She bit her lip. “That was a solid Springsteen. A boss Boss, if you will.”
“I will.” It took an effort not to promise her the moon. “Any time you need it.”
“Mics on. We have to go, kids,” Danielle said, answering another call and speaking to someone on the other end while walking out of the apartment. She held the door for them and waited as they hooked their battery packs to the smalls of their backs, feeding the mics through their shirts and pressing the almighty button that would pick up their voices more clearly for the home audience. When Beat turned around, he saw that Joseph had been filming and wondered how much he—and everyone watching—had overheard. Did it even matter anymore? Hiding things from the camera only reminded him how privately he normally lived. Letting everyone close, but never close enough. Never revealing anything too deep or important.
With Melody’s hand tucked into his, Beat wondered for the first time if maybe he could learn to be a little more trusting. And what could be waiting for him on the other side.
Chapter Sixteen
On the flight to New Hampshire, Melody tried desperately to focus on her TED talk about insect brains being the key to great artificial intelligence, but every time five minutes lapsed, she realized she’d retained nothing.
Obviously she had the furthest thing from an insect brain.
Striving for casual, Melody turned in her wide, leather seat and glanced toward the rear of the plane to where Beat was thumbing through a neat bundle of paperwork, his brow in a furrow. He licked his index and middle fingers to turn the page, and a huge, industrial-sized crank turned below her belly button.
It seemed that every time she blinked, she would remember those long fingers tugging the band of her panties forward to look at her.
Goddamn, Peach. Are you on the pill just in case? Pulling out of that pussy is going to be torture.
In the heat of the moment, those words had made her hot. Brought her to the brink. In the light of day—or bad airplane cabin lighting, as it were—they only made her wonder. Made her think. Physically removing himself from her seemed to be a . . . theme? Or a need?
As if he’d heard her thoughts out loud, Beat’s attention snapped up and gripped her with enough intensity to power the airplane.
“Psst.” Danielle elbowed her in the ribs. “You’re staring.”
“Right.” Wetting her suddenly dry lips, Melody whipped back to a forward-facing position, keeping her eyes closed until her pulse slowed down. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to distract me with the truth about you and Joseph, our trusty cameraman?”