The next morning, Melody stood in the kitchen of her little bungalow after her run. Sweat soaked the sweatshirt she wore over her tank top and running pants—she definitely wasn't going to show anyone else her scar—and she carefully stretched out her legs, holding on to the counter for balance. Her half-drunk green smoothie rested on the counter next to her open laptop.
She couldn't stop thinking about Weston and the kisses they'd shared.
Her first kiss, and it had been amazing. She wasn't sure anyone else's could compare.
And Weston was going to leave. The girls were sure of it.
It wasn't that far of a commute to the city, but with her long hours minding the store and his career, what kind of a long-distance relationship could they have?
When she wasn't focused on the best part of the evening—he'd kissed her!—the mystery about Eve dogged her. She knew she shouldn't, but she grabbed her laptop, set it on the kitchen counter, and fired it up while she waited for her coffee to brew.
She clicked off the marathon registration site that came up first on her Internet browser. She'd almost clicked Register last night in a fit of madness before her courage had failed. Now she navigated to Google and typed Weston Moore and Oklahoma City into the browser.
He had a lot of hits.
Investment broker hits it big with local restaurant.
Oklahoma City's one hundred most eligible bachelors.
Weston Moore signs top-dollar deal.
The headlines went on and on.
He wasn't the failure a few spiteful folks in town had made him out to be. He might've left town under a cloud of suspicion—though she now believed those accusations had been fabricated—but he'd made something of himself.
He was the kind of man who returned to a place who'd scorned him to protect and take care of his sisters.
She saw so much more in him than what the folks in town believed him to be.
And she might be falling for him.
But what kind of future could they have?
She could understand why he didn't want to be in Redbud Trails. She didn't make a practice of listening to the gossip in town—with the notable exceptions of when Anna and Lila had been dating their respective beaus—but she could see how the lies told about him could follow him around. In her mind, it made perfect sense that Weston didn't want to live in the shadows of the past.
She just hoped her heart could learn to understand that, too.
Evening was falling as Weston rubbed at the ache between his eyes, pushing back from the kitchen table where he'd been reviewing a contract for one of his clients. His brain was wiped and the legalese started to read like a foreign language.
He felt a little like a teenager, stuck inside too long doing homework.
Not that he'd spent all that much time on his homework when he'd actually been a teenager. He'd been busy with an after-school job that helped keep food on the table—and the mortgage paid. His little spare time had been spent with Eve.
But thinking about Eve didn't do him any good. He'd heard that she'd moved to Texas and married some guy. Probably had a passel of kids by now.
Some folks in town—like Ezra—seemed to want to remember the mistakes Weston had made in the past, but there were plenty of people—like Maddox Michaels and Melody—who judged him for the man he was now.
Thinking of Melody made those memories of Eve hazy. Almost thin enough to blow away in a good strong Oklahoma wind.
Melody was something.
When she'd kissed him... She'd obviously been untutored in the art of kissing, but her lips had been a powerful force anyway.
He wanted to do it all over again.
Three days had passed since he'd tucked her into her coupe and bussed her cheek good night. Three nights of waking up from dreams of those kisses. Three mornings watching for her to run past the house. Three mornings of disappointment when she never showed.
He hadn't called. Didn't know if he should. Although some of the younger folks in town accepted him, his reputation could definitely taint her, and he didn't want her store to suffer because of his selfish need to see her again.
But he was about to wave the white flag, because he missed her.
"You should text her."
He jumped at the unexpected voice. He turned his back on the barn out the window he'd been staring out without really seeing to find Chase and Claire behind him. Claire held a pair of bowls and spoons while Chase pulled a tub of ice cream from the freezer.
He started to protest that they couldn't possibly know what he was thinking about, but Claire interrupted. "I think she'd like it if you did. Every time the shop phone rang today, she jumped about a mile. She even fumbled the greeting once."
He scratched the back of his neck, which had suddenly warmed. "You don't think folks would give her a hard time if they saw us together?"
"It's none of their business," Chase growled.
True, but they were quiet in the next moment, and Weston wondered if the girls were thinking the same thing he was, that whether or not it was their business wouldn't stop tongues from wagging.
Something dangerous glinted in Chase's eyes. "If there's not really a curse on our family, you should prove it. Go after her. Make her fall in love with you."
There was just one of the rubs. He didn't know if he could. He hadn't been enough for Eve. Nor for any of his girlfriends since.
Maybe he was cursed.
Except he didn't believe in superstitions. He knew Whose he was. He knew he was loved by the One that really mattered. But that didn't guarantee he'd find someone on earth to love him.
Melody had responded to Weston's cryptic text with a tentative yes, even though she'd questioned whether his suggestion was wise.
Now, two days later, she wore a long, flowing skirt beneath her coat as she waited for him to pick her up after the store closed.
Tiny snowflakes fell—enough to be beautiful, but not enough to create any road hazards—and his headlights cut through the semi-darkness, making her squint as he pulled the truck into the alley behind the store.
It was a little weird that he'd wanted to pick her up out here.
She started to step off the curb, but he'd already cracked his door and called out, "Wait!"
She froze, one hand against the door.
He rounded the truck and came toward her, his hand closing over hers on the cool metal. "I always open doors."
For women in general, or for his dates?
Before she could speak the question, he was behind her. He pulled the door open, and she backed up to give it room to swing by. But Weston didn't back up, and she was suddenly so close. She didn't move. Standing near him like that, the open door on one side, him on the other, with the light snow falling on their heads...it was a magical moment. An intimate moment.
The shops were deserted this time of night, and the alley was dark and empty, except for the two of them.
She turned toward him and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he inhaled, nostrils flaring. She watched his eyes sweep down the length of her. His hand slid around her waist, and he pulled her in for a scorching kiss.
When he pulled away—before she was ready, despite the cold wind and snowflakes swirling around them, he tucked her into the cab of the truck with a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose. He was pulling out of the alley and was halfway down Main Street before her wits returned.
"If you meant that you always open the door for your dates, you should know this isn't a date."
He threw a sideways glance at her. "Oh, it's a date. You register for that marathon yet?"
Frustration—and more than a little joy—swirled up through her. "No. And I don't date guys who've seen my scar."
The nearest side of his lips quirked, but he didn't smile. "You mean, like you don't kiss guys who've seen your scar?"
Heat climbed her neck and into her face. "I don't make a habit of kissing anyone at all. Just you."
That glance slid her way again, but this time without any hint of humor. "No kidding?"
Weston knew he was treading on precarious ground as Melody bit her lip, that adorable blush lingering on her cheeks beneath her dark cherry-red locks. He'd been surprised to find her hair color had changed. Not just her bangs this time. The color was cute on her.
He turned toward Weatherford and the surprise he had planned for her.
He'd been her first kiss? She didn't admit it outright, but her silence was confirmation enough.
He'd thought she was out of practice, but would have never guessed that.
"You wanna tell me why?"
She sighed, leaning her cheek on her hand. Her elbow was propped in the window. "Not particularly." Her opposite hand came up to press against her collarbone.
"Why does the scar bother you so much? It's hardly noticeable."
She frowned, and he fought the urge to take back the words and let her off the hook. Maybe it wasn't typical first-date conversation, but then, she'd already seen some of the darker parts of his family drama.
"It's not like something you'd get from bull riding or sky diving or bike racing," she warned.
Somehow, without really thinking about it, his hand crept across the seat and connected with hers. Their fingers threaded together naturally, and he was gratified when her next words emerged in a less halting manner.
"I had open heart surgery when I was three."
The softly-spoken words hit him square in the gut.
"I had a congenital heart defect, and the surgery repaired it."
He squeezed her hand, but he didn't speak. There was more, he could feel it.
"The doctors told my parents about the risks, of course, but maybe it didn't sink in. I don't know. Whatever the case, there were complications after the surgery. There was a blood clot, and they believe I had a small stroke."
She shook his hand, making him realize he'd been squeezing her too tightly. Imagining the world without Melody in it wasn't something he wanted to do.
"But you're all right now," he said, wanting to believe the words. He needed them to be true.
"I'm fine. I've had more than enough doctor's appointments to confirm it. But because of those weeks spent in the hospital, the scare stuck with my parents. They...basically, they kept me encased in bubble wrap my entire childhood. They schooled me at home. I was never allowed to stay the night with a friend. I wasn't allowed to date."
She hesitated long enough that he glanced at her. Her face was shadowed, but with just the dim lights from the dash for illumination, he saw more that she didn't say. He could only guess what damage her parents' overprotectiveness had caused.
"And then I went to college. I was eighteen, and I'd chosen a state school. I made a stand and told my parents I was going to live in the dorms. My roommate was... she wasn't really wild, but at the time it seemed like she was."
The tension ticked up with every second of her silence. Finally, he said, "And...?"
She glanced at him, and he saw the shadows in her eyes.
"You went with her to the first wild party on campus?" he guessed. "Did some crazy things?"
She drew her hand out of his, and he felt the emptiness of her missing touch as he returned his hand to the steering wheel.
"I locked myself in my dorm for the first week. At first, I couldn't even make myself go to class. I think my roommate wished for a cooler friend. She wasn't trying to be funny when she told me to see a therapist, but her words sparked something in me. I called the campus shrink, and she helped me start working through some issues."
She stared out the passenger window. "I didn't fail that semester after all, even though I had to make up some homework from those first classes I missed."
He could relate to the young woman Melody had been. "College was an adjustment for me, too. Maybe I didn't have it as rough as you did, but being from a small town where everybody knew your business, then transitioning into that big school...it wasn't easy."
He glanced at her again. Was it his imagination, or was she blushing more fiercely now?
"When I got to O State," he said, "I was in the faceless crowd. There was a part of me that liked the anonymity. But another part felt a little lost."
He hadn't meant to share that with her, but there it was.
Thankfully, they arrived at their destination.
She squinted through the windshield, through the snow that had thickened somewhat but was still not enough to cause them trouble on the way home. "Ballroom dancing?"
He popped open his door and ducked into the snow and wind, rounded the truck, and opened her door. She was still peering up at the sign on the building.
He hoped he'd guessed right. "It's gotta be on the list, right?"