Was Brock out there? Was he hurting Melody again?
Stryder barely parked his truck before he was sliding from his seat and closing the door. Long strides carried him to the barn door where the panel hung half-open. Forcing himself to slow down, Stryder stopped before going inside. He had to make sure he didn’t compromise Melody’s safety. What if Brock was holding her hostage or something? Stryder stood to the side of the opening, listening intently to see if Melody was okay.
Brock’s voice carried outside, filled with confidence and excitement. “I think you’ll be happy. I’ll tell my dad. Again, I’m really sorry about last night. I just… I wasn’t thinking, you know? It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Stryder rolled his eyes. No way, was Melody going to accept that line. She was so much smart-
“I know, thanks.” Melody’s soft agreement took Stryder’s breath away. She knew? She understood? Stryder couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll draw up the paperwork. When do you want to have the big day?” The big day? What was he talking about? She was going to choose when they were going to do what?
Stryder adjusted his cowboy hat, listening intently for some clue that they were pretending or knew he was standing there, anything to refute what he was hearing.
“As soon as possible. I don’t want to overthink anything.” Melody didn’t even sound like she was hesitant. Everything was set in stone and she was ready to go forward with it.
It had to be marrying Brock. There was no other explanation. Stryder’s chest hurt and he leaned against the rough siding of the barn. A sharp stinging in the corners of his eyes had him clenching his jaw. No way. He couldn’t lose her, but the longer he stood there and listened, the further he felt her slip through his hands.
Why was she marrying Brock when she’d blown Stryder off for so long? Had she gotten his letters and spent time with Stidwell mocking the words Stryder had written her? Maybe she had. Maybe he didn’t know the Melody he’d thought he loved for so long. Humiliation at being so lovesick without reason burned through him.
Half-laughing, Brock replied. “Got it. I can’t wait to tell my dad. And thanks again, really.” He strode out of the barn, past Stryder without even seeing him standing to the side of the door, which was best for Brock’s health. Stryder half-stepped from the barn, ready to take his anger and hurt out on the unassuming man.
Stryder wasn’t sure how long he would let Brock live. Pure disappointment and disbelief held Stryder frozen in place. What had he done wrong that Melody would turn to Brock? Stryder was right next door, he’d offered to help. He would do anything to help Melody, and yet she was going to choose the abusive brute?
Melody stepped up to the doorway, watching as Brock drove away. Was that longing in her gaze? Was she happy to be stuck with him? Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks red. She wiped under her eyes and glanced to the side, startled when her gaze landed on Stryder. “Stryder?” A hesitant smile curled the edges of her mouth and Stryder hated himself for wishing he could kiss her.
He was angry that she was surprised he was there. Like she’d been hiding something from him. He pointed down the drive after the retreating red truck. “So, you’re doing it? You’re that desperate?” He couldn’t keep the disappointment from his tone.
Melody lifted her chin, a defiant spark in her eyes. “After all that Dad did? Do I have a choice? I thought you would understand and be proud of me.” She folded her arms tight across her waist.
Be proud of her? For ripping out his heart and standing on it? It was like she didn’t know him at all. Stryder shook his head and stared at her. “Nothing about this makes sense. How can I understand?”
Throwing her arms out to her sides, Melody cried out, “But… Stryder, now I can keep my house. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Her captivating scent mixed with the dusty aroma from the barn only served to irritate Stryder.
He looked at Melody as if seeing her for the first time. He didn’t recognize her. He had done all he could for her and yet there really was nothing he could do to get her back. “You’re going to give up everything for this place. You’re right. You are different.” He gripped the keys in his hand, the teeth biting into his palms, and then he held them out to her. “I bought you the flower shop, because I thought that’s what you wanted. I did it to make you happy.”
Melody folded her arms, her jaw tight as she flicked her gaze from his open hand to his face. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Stryder jerked back as if she’d stuck him. She hadn’t asked him for anything. That was the problem. He could fix all of her problems, everything, and she wouldn’t ask him. She was willing to tie herself to Brock Stidwell before asking Stryder for help. There Stryder was trying to make things easier for her and she was right. She didn’t want anything from him.
He wanted to give her his heart and a strong future and she wanted something completely different. “You’re right. You didn’t ask me to do anything.” She must want to live in squalor – okay, the Stidwells hardly lived in squalor, but it made Stryder feel better to think it.
Stryder turned, keys still in his hand and he slowly returned to the truck. He couldn’t look back, but everything inside him wanted to run to her and beg her to tell him why she wanted anything but him and his love for her.
His pride had already been trampled. He couldn’t take anymore rejection. Climbing into the truck, Stryder had to realize that changing who he was wouldn’t do anything. She didn’t want him and that was something he had to accept for once and for all.
With Clint’s death there’d been a lot of things left unresolved. He’d kept Stryder away for so long and Stryder had even been willing to believe that Melody had no part of it. She wouldn’t pick life without Stryder. She loved him. Or he’d believed she had. Now… now Stryder couldn’t help believing that Melody had a bigger role in keeping them apart than he’d originally given her.
The call of alcohol to drown his sadness was stronger than anything else. If he could just get home, he wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. Who was he kidding? Melody was home and he’d never feel anything but pain again.
Chapter 15
Melody
Stryder left before Melody could talk to him about the contract and everything he’d given up for her. She wanted to thank him but she wasn’t sure how. He’d done so much for her and his last letter had been so full of pain and longing. What if it was too late? What if he didn’t feel like that for her any longer?
He’d run. He’d been so disappointed in her actions, that he had run from her. He’d climbed in his truck and peeled off as if trying to escape the devil’s grasp.
Defeated, Melody turned despondently back to the Vette and glared at it. She didn’t want to see it anymore. Carefully, she pulled the chamois cover into place, tucking the hem back under the bumper.
She’d been able to stop herself from taking her anger out on the car with the crowbar. Barely, but she’d done it. Instead, she called Jansen Stidwell. Leaving a message on his voicemail, she used the internet on the small phone she had and looked up the market value for the Corvette.
The wind had been knocked from her when she discovered the car was worth close to three-hundred-thousand dollars. Three. Hundred. Thousand. That was more money than she owed! More money than she would know what to do with. The sheer amount had taken her enough by surprise that she’d stared into the dim interior of the barn for a good thirty minutes. Finally, though, she’d snapped out of it and had straightened her shoulders.
If her father had left her debt, she had to believe he’d also left her a way to pay it. She had no sentimental ties to the car. None. She’d never driven in it with her father nor had she worked on it with him either. She didn’t care about it until she discovered how much it was worth.
A huge part of her wanted to get in the dang thing and drive as fast as possible from end of Montana to the next just to do it. Just to do something with the vehicle her father had never been brave enoug
h to do. But she would settle for selling it. She could drive a new-to-her car once she paid off all of her debts. That would be good enough for her.
Brock had shown up not too long after, stating he’d gotten the message and rushed right over to talk to her. He’d been apologetic about the night before, but Melody didn’t care. She wanted to sell the care, that was it. Brock wasn’t an option for her and he looked hungover more than anything. What he didn’t have was the smell of alcohol on him and that made it easier to believe that he really was sorry.
His apologies hadn’t mattered enough to make her reconsider him. There was only one thing she wanted from the Stidwells and marriage wasn’t it.
Brock offered sixty-thousand and Melody laughed – out loud – at him. The offer was so low it wasn’t even insulting. Melody had pulled up the screenshot of the market value and pointed at the number. Brock’s face had paled and he’d made a phone call outside the barn doors.
When he’d returned, he’d shaken his head, glancing toward the corner of the car showing in the stall. “I can only offer one-fifty.” Something in his face wasn’t completely honest.
Melody had laughed again, loving the control and power she had for once. “I won’t go lower than two, so you can tell your dad I’ll go online with it.” She was more comfortable negotiating since she had seen how rare and valuable the Corvette was. There was no doubt in her mind that the Vette was worth every cent. She’d be happy with two-hundred-thousand since it was still more than enough to take care of her debts and get her future settled. She didn’t have to be greedy. But she wouldn’t take whatever was offered either.
For once, Melody was going to get what she was owed and that was the final word on it.
Since she wanted a fast sale, she had no problem going down, but not so much. And two-hundred-thousand was still enough to make a huge dent in what she needed. She could keep the house. She had the option to keep the house!
When Brock agreed, Melody’s stress had shifted from her back and she’d straightened her shoulders. She was no longer a poor woman. She could stand on her own two feet and not feel like she had nothing to offer anyone. She wasn’t a billionaire like Stryder, but she wasn’t a pauper either. Maybe, just maybe, he would see her as something more than a project.
Why hadn’t Stryder been more understanding? He didn’t have any sentimental attachment to the car. Why would he want her to stay in debt? Stay trapped? She was going to lose her home and he hadn’t understood. Maybe he was so far away from being poor he didn’t remember what it was like to live day to day, unsure where his next meal was coming from or if he was going to have a job when he woke up.
Well, Melody wasn’t too far from that. She could still taste the ramen noodles she’d cooked up and eaten the night before.
When Stryder presented her with keys to the flower shop, Melody could have screamed at him. Who did that? He couldn’t solve her problems by buying her things. Life didn’t work that way. She didn’t want Stryder to make her life easier. She wanted to prove she could do it on her own. And she had. Yet, that wasn’t good enough for him.
When Brock finalized the deal, Melody would have a ton of money. She could still let the house go, sell it to cover the debt on the mortgage and use a third of the car money to pay off the rest of the debt her father had left. She’d still have more than enough money to move away and start over.
The possibilities were endless. Moving away was more ideal than anything else. The longer she stood there staring at the expanse of Steel land spread out under the Montana sun, she realized she didn’t need her family place to be happy. She needed stability. She needed love and a family. The place was worthless without children to run around or a husband to work the land with her.
Plus, the biggest question was, did she want to stay? Stay and live next door to Stryder but not have him? Have him so close but so far? What would happen? They’d each marry someone else and their children would meet across the creek? Could Melody handle that? Having him so close but not actually having him? The ache in her heart at the thought hurt more than anything else. She clutched her shirt above her heart and tried to slow her breathing down.
Shaking her head, she shuffled to the side and leaned her shoulders against the wood on the barn in the same spot he’d stood. She leaned her head forward, closing her eyes and trying not to cry.
Watching him in front of the world as he made his business deals and his fortune was hard enough, miles away in California. She’d known what true brilliance his eyes were and took satisfaction that the television cameras had dimmed his beauty. Knowing that had made it easier to be away from him. Knowing that he wasn’t in the room made it easier to turn off the television or walk away from the papers. But there? A field away? Her heart wasn’t strong enough. Her soul was too fractured to stay together through that.
Melody started thinking maybe they could try again, hoping he still loved her like he’d said he did in his last letter, after learning what she’d learned in that box… Melody couldn’t believe it but maybe Stryder had lost it.
Why else would he act like that when he knew how deep she was? What was he thinking?
The sun began to set and Melody locked up the barn and wandered back into the house. She was mixed on keeping the home. She was mixed on so many things while shock held her suspended in disbelief. What was Stryder thinking that he could act like that?
She’d have to get candles out again, if she wanted to get anything done that night. Settling on the couch, Melody clutched a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. While she’d been in the barn, she’d found the peanut butter in her mom’s old outside food storage, way in the back on the bottom shelf. The find was a boon. The car sell was a boon.
Stryder rushing off was just out of character for a man who had promised her always.
Staring out the window, glaring at the lights on in Stryder’s home down the way, Melody chewed on her bottom lip. She could only see the tops of his house, but it was enough to see he was home. He could afford to have his electricity on. Why didn’t he understand that she wanted that? Selling the car would give her that. Selling the car would give her food.
Maybe once Brock paid her for the car she would be able to buy real food. She was ready for eggs and bread and pizza and chicken. She was so ready to eat real meals. Was she having second thoughts about selling the car? Taking the anger at her dad out of the situation, did she still want to sell the car?
Yes, the more she thought about it, the more determined she was to go through with it. Selling that car would give her a freedom she’d never had before. Even though Stryder had freaked out, Melody knew it was the right thing to do. Why did he even care? If anything, why wasn’t he happy for her? She could have easily collected all the uncashed checks and gone to him for the money which came to more than the price she’d gotten for the car. Instead, he’d acted like a spoiled brat.
Well, she didn’t have to accept being treated like that.
Suddenly, her lights came on. Melody stood jerkily, staring around, whipping her head from side to side. What was going on? Her chest rose and fell as if she were under attack, but she wasn’t. She was surrounded in light and she looked back toward Stryder’s place.
He had something to do with the power. Of course, he did. She screwed the lid back on the peanut butter jar and pulled her boots on. Her feet ached, but she didn’t care. He had to stop doing things for her that she didn’t ask for.
Melody was going to confront Stryder once and for all, get him out of her system so she could move on with her life, wherever that was and with whoever. She ignored the pang in her chest at the thought of anyone else in her arms or in his.
The front door closed behind her and she strode down the steps and across the drive, gravel crunching under the worn soles of her boots.
Her stride lengthened as she made her way across the field, long grasses slapping against her shins. At the creek she didn’t pause, but stepped across the l
og confidently. She’d been over that way more times than she could count.
Her steps didn’t falter as she continued toward his house, glaring at the bright lights spilling onto the newly landscaped lawn. When did he have time to do all that? Wait, it was Stryder. He’d most likely paid someone to trim and water his lawn.
Was he having a party or something? Music that was nothing close to Blackhawks or Trace Atkins pounded from the slightly ajar door. A Mercedes convertible had been parked slightly askew in the drive near the front porch.
Melody climbed the steps without breaking her stride and swung the door open. Standing on formalities would only give her time to reconsider. She had to get the way she felt out.
Stryder turned from the empty fireplace in the front room, his brow furrowed as he took in Melody’s presence. His hand arrested in front of his chest with a crystal stemless glass half-filled with amber liquid. On the table beside him a new bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey claimed its spot and declared its presence discreetly.
Melody jerked back and swallowed. She’d never really believed that he’d stayed away from alcohol – or expected it anyway. But she’d hoped. Alcohol had ruined too much of her life. Her lips parted and she blinked at Stryder who had frozen with the glass half-way to his mouth.
He drank? That was all Melody could register. Her lips moved, but nothing came out. When had he started drinking? Was he an alcoholic like her father? He was drinking her father’s whiskey of choice.
Suddenly, a very famous woman walked into the living room from the kitchen with two different bottles in her hands. Her blonde hair was French-braided down her back and she wore very tight, very revealing clothing that Melody couldn’t quite focus on. “I’m not sure which one I want. Do you have a preference?” Holding the bottles up, Candy froze when she saw Melody standing in the living room. Eyeing her up and down, Candy arched a beautifully shaped eyebrow. “It’s a little late for the maid to come, don’t you think?”
Stryder: The Second Chance Billionaire (The Billionaire Cowboys of Clearwater County Book 1) Page 9
