by Brook Wilder
It gave him a false sense of hope that the rest of his day would go as smoothly. But, when it came time to finally say goodbye to the animals and head inside, he hesitated.
“Am I doing the right thing, Bandit? Who the fuck even knows what the right thing is?”
Christian muttered the question out loud, but the dog had no answer. The pup just stared back at him with big, questioning eyes.
“Shit, now I really am losing it. Talking to dogs. Expecting them to answer”
Christian shook his head at himself in frustration.
Bandit sat in front of him wagging his tail and gave a soft bark. Christian leaned forward and scratched him behind the ears, unable to resist the pit bull’s goofy grin. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago, Bandit had been scared and bleeding. Growling and snapping at anyone or anything that had come close to him.
The pup barked again, nudging him towards the farmhouse, and Christian let out a laugh.
“Alright. Alright. I guess I should just go talk to the bride, huh?”
“Woof!”
“I’m going. You don’t have to bark anymore.”
Christian gave each of the dogs one last belly rub before finally turning to walk inside.
He knew it was all a sham, the wedding, everything. But that still didn’t stop the giddy excitement from rising inside him, filling him with nerves, as he marched over to meet his new fiancée.
Chapter 10
Melody hummed to herself as she dusted the shelf, taking off each knickknack in turn and cleaning it before replacing it carefully were it had been. She’d been cleaning and tidying Bianca’s small farmhouse all morning. She liked to think it was as a way to repay the older woman for her kindness, because, despite her gruff exterior, Bianca had gone out of her way to make Melody feel at home there. But she knew the truth. It was the only thing she had to keep herself distracted.
All night she had tossed and turned, lying there on the lumpy mattress, and wondered what the hell she was going to do. She had wrestled with her thoughts, back and forth, first one way then the other.
Fed up, she’d grabbed a small piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand and done what she’d used to do as a child when making an important decision. Or, at least, what she’d thought was important at the time.
She’d made a list.
Melody drew a line straight down the middle, splitting the page into two columns. On one side of the paper she wrote stay, and the other side she titled leave. Those were really her only two options at the moment.
Then, she’d written out the pros and cons of each. Under the stay heading, the pros were fairly numerous. Food, clothing, shelter, freedom from Enrique and his violence, and, according to Bianca, a sort of protector in Hub, dubious as that may have seemed at the moment.
The cons, of course, were that she would be forced to marry someone she didn’t know. A stranger. And, worse, a stranger who was a member of a rival and notoriously violent, gang.
In the back of her mind, she’d always held on tight to the fantasy that every little girl has. That one day her prince charming would ride in on his white steed and rescue her; they would fall in love and finally have their happy ever after. At the very least, she’d always thought that the man she’d marry would love her and she would love him. But she didn’t know the first thing about Christian.
That’s not true. You know that he’s kind and he stood up for you. He brought you food and water. He offered to marry you, to keep you safe.
Melody shrugged off those thoughts, though. She knew all too well that people were rarely what they first seemed like.
She’d turned back to the other column on her list. Leave. The pros were few, namely because she had no money and the likelihood of her ending up back on the streets was high. She couldn’t go back to the halfway house she’d lived in before. Enrique would search for her there.
The cons greatly outweighed the pros of leaving; so, as dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky to the east, Melody made her decision. She would stay. For the moment at least. Until she’d made a plan for herself and knew she could escape without having Enrique or an angry biker gang chasing after her.
She was in a precarious position; she knew that. But it wouldn’t be the first time in her life that she had her back up against a wall. She would land on her feet. She had to.
Melody was just putting a porcelain figurine of a cat wearing a bonnet back on the shelf when she heard a knock at the back door.
Her heart started racing, her pulse leaping in her veins. She didn’t need to hear his voice; she already knew who it was. Bianca’s words confirmed it a moment later.
“Melody! Come out here. Christian’s here to see you.”
The woman’s gruff voice echoed from the kitchen and Melody froze for a moment, unsure what to do. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet.
But she didn’t have a choice. So, she tilted up her chin and squared her shoulders as if she was marching into war. After a few more deep breaths, she walked to the back.
She didn’t see him at first, just Bianca bent low as she scraped burnt on food from the inside of the ancient oven.
“He’s outside, hun. On the front porch,” Bianca said, her head still inside the appliance, “Don’t keep the boy waiting on you, now. He’s already nervous as a hen in a fox den.”
Melody was surprised at that, and even more surprised that knowing Christian was nervous too helped to steady her own nerves. Feeling a little better, Melody walked outside and around the back of the house until she reached the porch.
Christian was sitting on one of the rocking chairs, facing away from her, and she took the moment to just look at him. Really look at him. The night she’d been taken and he’d come to the barn, it had been too dark. And the morning after, when Hank had attacked her… well, she had been more than a little distracted.
Now, though, she could finally see him clearly. The late morning sun turned his skin into gold and it picked up the light blond of his hair, making it gleam. His profile looked carved out of marble, the same strong, straight nose and chiseled jawline of a Greek statue.
She could understand why the other men had nicknamed him pretty boy. He was more than handsome, with his angelic blue eyes and blond hair. He really was pretty.
Melody couldn’t see his gaze from there, but she remembered it. Bright and insightful, staring straight into her like twin blue augers, seeing all the way to her soul. He hadn’t turned away from what he saw there that night in the barn or the morning after. She wondered what he would do now. What he would do if he truly knew how dark her soul was. Would he turn away then?
“Are you just going to stand there gawking at me all day, or are you going to come over here and talk to me?”
Melody jolted in surprise, fighting a slight flush of embarrassment at having been caught, and forced her legs to carry her forward as if she hadn’t just been staring at him like some doe-eyed teenager.
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Melody shot back as she climbed the short set of stairs to join him on the porch.
The only other seat was a small bench that was way too close to Christian for her comfort; so, instead, she contented herself with crossing her arms over her chest and leaning one hip against the railing that wrapped around the porch.
She immediately regretted her harsh tone when she saw Christian’s gaze shutter for a moment. But then he was grinning up at her as if it had never happened.
“Maybe we should start over?” he said softly, offering her his hand. “My name is Christian Mires. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Make my acquaintance, huh?” Melody snorted but was surprised to find herself fighting back a grin of her own.
Finally, she reached out her own hand, sliding her palm against his. She was surprised at the calluses she felt there and at the spark of electricity that seemed to shoot from his fingertips all the way through her body.
“I’m Melody. Melody
Sloane.”
Her voice was breathless, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Holding Christian’s hand was like holding on to a live wire. Flustered, she pulled her own hand away, cradling it behind her back as she waited for the tingling to dissipate.
She felt awkward standing there. A stiff silence fell between them and it grew more and more unbearable. Christian must have felt it too, because suddenly he was talking. Not just small talk, or chatter, but really talking.
Leaning forward, his face intent and his blue eyes locked on her, Melody had no choice but to listen, captivated by him.
He told her all about himself. His childhood growing up in southern Texas, near the coast, with his mother and father. He talked a lot about his mom. How she’d taught him about the world, taught him how to take care of different animals, how they had always been bringing home strays. Hub would complain but he couldn’t deny Christian’s mother anything. He’d loved her too much.
Then he talked about how she’d started to get sick. How the cancer treatments had stopped working and, within a year of being diagnosed, she had been gone. He talked about how things had changed after that. How he had changed, how Hub had changed.
His father had grown mean and distant. It wasn’t his fault, Christian said; he’d just loved his mother too much. And, when she’d died, she’d taken all his love with her.
Christian seemed to talk for hours as they stood there together on the porch. All about how his father had gotten desperate for money and had started dealing drugs. That was how he’d gotten into the gang life in the first place.
Christian had only been twelve at the time. But he’d practically been raised in the gang, groomed by his father to join up as soon as he turned eighteen, even though the Devil’s Martyrs had become his family long before that.
He talked about how he had changed over the last few years, had realized how different he was from the rest of the crew. and how it had driven a wedge between him and his father.
How he dreamed of getting out of the gang and going to school to be a veterinarian. How he wanted to open up his own practice, so he could continue doing what he loved the most. Taking care of other living things that had been lost or abandoned or abused and giving them a second chance at life.
Sometime, while they were talking, Melody had made her way over to the small bench and sat knee to knee with Christian as she listened to him. Mostly she listened, nodding every now and then.
She wasn’t ready to tell him her whole life’s story, not yet. But, as Christian spoke about his past and his present and his dreams for his future, something started to come alive inside her. He was telling her the truth; she could that in his bright blue eyes.
And for those few hours, she believed him. She thought that maybe, just maybe, he really was the type of man he’d seemed at first.
Melody kept her thoughts to herself, though, as he finally wound down and grew quiet once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence, this time. Just two people, who were content to sit next to each other and not need to say another word.
She breathed it in, reveling in the strangeness of it all. But, when she glanced over at Christian, she could just make out the bruise along his jaw. The bruise that she’d given him that night in the barn when she’d tried to run away.
“I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, her voice soft.
Christian gave her a confused look and she nodded towards the bruises. Christian shrugged it off, but then his own gaze narrowed on her face. His hand reached out, tracing her cheekbone and jaw with a gentle, featherlight touch that had her breath stalling in her lungs and that damned electricity striking through her body once more.
“I’m sorry about those.”
“Why? You didn’t do it.”
Melody forced the words out as casually as she could, but he wouldn’t let her look away. He wouldn’t let her shrug it off as he had just a moment before.
“No, I didn’t. But I’m still sorry. I’m sorry that someone hurt you like that,” Christian drawled.
For an instant she saw a flash of anger, a reminder that he was far stronger than his quiet, gentle manner belied.
“Was it Enrique?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Just tell me, Mel. Did Enrique do that?”
She was caught off guard again by the nickname he used for her. No one else had ever called her Mel before, and it made her feel closer to him than she had to anyone in a long time.
“I…” Melody looked over at him and the lie died on her tongue. “Yes.”
“Are you in love with him?”
The question caught her so off guard that it surprised a bitter laugh out of her before she could stop herself.
“Love him? No. I thought… When I first met him, he was kind to me. He was charming. He saved me.” It wasn’t lost on her, the similarities between the two men. “But, after a little while, he tried to control me. He did control me. He told me what to wear. He told me what to think. What to say. I didn’t…” Melody bit off the painful words, having said much more than she’d meant to. “No, I don’t love him. I hate him for what he did to me.”
Christian let out a relieved sigh and she realized for the first time that he was just as unsure about this whole marriage thing as she was. It had her reaching out and taking a hold of his hand before she could think better of it.
They both stared in surprise at their hands twined together. But, when Christian looked over at her, Melody could see his emotions laid bare in his bright blue eyes.
“After the wedding, I’ll take you far away from here. We’ll both leave this town. Hell, we’ll leave Texas. Afterwards…” He paused and then shrugged. “After we leave, we can get a divorce and both go our separate ways. Live our own lives. See how that works out for a change.”
He let out a soft, breathy chuckle and Melody stared at him, enraptured as she pictured his words playing out in her mind.
“Really? You mean that?”
“Yeah, I mean it. Every word,” Christian said roughly.
He squeezed her hand, reminding her that they were still holding each other, fingers tangled together. Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled away, tucking her hands into her lap and staring down at them.
Melody was quiet for a moment as she thought it through, but it didn’t take long.
“All right.” She looked back up, meeting his gaze as she nodded, and suddenly butterflies erupted in her stomach. It wasn’t fear or nerves, but something else altogether. “Let’s get married.”
Christian smiled at her, his lips curving up in an expression of pure joy.
“Let’s get married.”
Melody cleared her throat.
“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck if you see the bride before the wedding day.”
“Well, we don’t need any more of that,” he said with a wry chuckle.
For a moment she was sure he was going to say something else, to lean forward and kiss her. But he did neither of those things, and she hated the pang of disappointment. Why the hell would she be disappointed?
Melody was still trying to figure it out when Christian turned with one final wave and a whispered goodbye before leaving without another word.
She let out a shuddering breath. The next time she saw him, it would be to become his wife and he would be her husband.
Two days, Melody thought, counting down the days until Saturday, the day that Hub had demanded the wedding take place. Two more days, and then everything would change.
For the first time in days, maybe the first time in nearly a year, a sliver of hope unfurled inside her. Maybe, just maybe, things were about to change for the better.
Chapter 11
“…my oh my, this tulle is gorgeous.”
“No, Stella. The lace. It has to be the lace.”
“Bows? God, no! No bows. This beading is what she needs. This beading is to die for…”
Melody let the inane chatter wash ove
r her, not really even hearing it anymore, as she pretended to flip through the bridal magazine. Bianca had said a few of her friends would be coming over to help out with getting things ready for the wedding.
She peeked over the top of the magazine she held in front of her face and took in Roberta and Stella, Bianca’s friends, and, she was quickly coming to realize, partners in crime. They were all outrageous in their own way.
Bianca was the most reserved out of all three of them in a pair or tight leather pants and black tank top. Roberta was wearing an eye-screeching bright red lace dress and Stella was decked out head to toe in purple and sequins.
Melody knew she should be worried about what the three women were cooking up for her wedding. Should be a little concerned at the very least. But it was hard for her to feel anything but lethargic.
