Wreck the Halls(61)
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.
In other words, this was about to be the longest night of his life.
“Listen, I’ll sleep against the wall. I’m tired enough to knock out in any position.”
Melody’s face became a mask of horror. “What? No.” She wet her lips and made a fluttery-fingered gesture at the mattress. “We’ll go back-to-back. Or I’ll face south and you face north?”
Beat raised an eyebrow. “Feet to face?”
“Why yes,” she purred theatrically. “That’s how I seduce all my men.”
He laughed, even though it hurt. To be seduced by Melody. Christ, he wouldn’t withstand five seconds before he started begging. No persuasion required. Watching her get arrested had been the cure for the hunger she’d incited on the plane, but hell if it wasn’t back now, bigger and badder than ever. How was he supposed to combat it when the universe was throwing twin mattresses into his path?
“We’ll figure it out,” Melody said with a quick glance at the camera. “Just a friendly sleepover. Nothing to see here.”
Nothing but my multiplying obsession with you.
“Nothing at all.”
She rolled her lips inward and nodded. “Should we join the debauchery for a bit?”
Beat shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants to prevent himself from reaching for her. “What’s the holiday season without a little debauchery?”
When she walked by him, his lungs filled themselves with air made so much sweeter with the scent of her, and he followed, Joseph taking up the rear. Danielle, who was waiting in the hallway furiously tapping away on her phone, smiled when they emerged and joined their slow-moving procession toward the earsplitting music, descending three staircases to the main level of the house. All four of them stopped at the bottom, surveying the scene in front of them. They’d only been in the attic for ten minutes and already, shit was getting wild.
Based on the number of occupied rooms in the house, at least a dozen people lived here with Trina. More than that if those individuals were sharing rooms. Based on the make-out session taking place in the shadowed nook beneath the staircase, at least two of Trina’s guests were . . . roommates. It appeared every member of the household was in attendance at the celebration, and none of them seemed fazed by the camera or the quartet of strangers in their midst. Some of them even waved, Purple Bandanna man flashing a peace sign.