Mostly Love

  Copyright © 2018 - Dillier Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-54394-715-1

  Dillier Publishing

  www.dillier.com

  For my mother.

  Thank you for your endless love, encouragement, and support.

  No wooden nickels.☺

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  If there was one thing that Melody Taylor knew, it was that blind dates typically sucked beyond belief. Unfortunately for her, she was going on this one anyway.

  “What are you wearing?” Carynne asked from her seat on Melody’s bed. She idly flipped though pages of a gossip mag with the hand not holding a pint of ice cream.

  “I don’t know, this one?” Melody turned away from her closet and held up a short emerald-colored dress with gold accents around the sleeves and hem.

  Carynne gave her a pained look. “It’s a bar.”

  “Right, right.” Melody placed the dress back on the rack and ran her fingers along the row of clothes until her hand landed on a pair of navy skinny jeans. “How about these?” She pulled them from the hanger and turned to Carynne.

  “Cute. Got a top for that?”

  Melody returned to her walk-in and emerged with a basic black v-neck. When Carynne gave her another pained look, she sighed and turned to hang it back up. “You know, you’re not being very helpful.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Condescension and rejection aren’t helpful.” She appeared again in the doorway of the closet with a white, sleeveless tunic with a keyhole back. “Okay, Regis. Final answer.”

  Carynne laughed. “Works for me.”

  Melody walked over to the bed and dropped the clothes near the edge. Sitting, she took the spoon from Carynne’s pint and heaved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She spoke around it.

  “I don’t wanna go, you know.”

  “Of course not. You never want to go anywhere. And I’m not sharing.” Carynne grabbed the spoon back and leaned away when Mel reached to retrieve it. “One date won’t kill you, and your aunt said he was nice. What time is he coming?”

  “He isn’t. I said I’d meet him there at 8.”

  Carynne glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “You know it’s 7:42, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m on it.” Melody got up from the bed and moved to her floor length mirror to change. “Thanks for coming over, by the way. And helping with the unpacking and the decorating and the eating of all my food.”

  “Anytime, bestie.” Carynne folded a leg under herself and flipped a page in the magazine before glancing up at Melody. “Oh, don’t wear those shoes.”

  “What’s wrong with my shoes?” Mel stuck her right foot out to glance down at her flats.

  “Wear heels, for God’s sake. Just because you don’t want to go out doesn’t mean you have to dress like a soccer mom.”

  “You’re mean today, short stack.” Mel kicked off her shoes and plucked a pair of modest heels from the floor. She wiggled into them before turning once again to the mirror.

  “That’s better. My work here is done.” Carynne offered a grin that Melody returned after a quick eye-roll in the mirror’s reflection. “What’s this guy like, anyway?”

  “Not sure. Aunt Gwen said he works at the bank, and that he’s nice and that I should really think about finding someone to settle down with and when am I going to start thinking about marriage and blah blah blah.” Melody decided on some plain silver hoops as she ambled over to her dresser. “Shit. Where’s my jewelry box?”

  “Did you unpack it yet?”

  “Guess not.” She disappeared into the hallway and returned with a box marked ‘bedroom.’ Opening it, she dug around until she found her small brown jewelry chest, which she dropped on the bed to open. Tilting her head to put on her earrings, she sighed once more before straightening up. “Okay. How do I look?”

  “Very pretty, friend. Now go fix your hair. I’m gonna go catch the rest of Big Brother.” Carynne stood up and crossed the room to the door. “And Mel?”

  Melody turned to her friend.

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  She smiled warmly. “Me too, C.”

  Melody flipped on the light in her new bathroom, which still needed a serious paint job, and gave herself another once-over in the small, antique mirror above the sink. She considered wearing her hair down, but decided against it, pinning it into a high ponytail and letting her curls do what they would. Opting not to go with much makeup, she dusted some highlight on her cheeks, nose and forehead, applied mascara, and finished off with a sheer lip gloss. Stepping back, she took in her whole appearance. The high cheekbones that she’d once hated as a teen now complimented her full lips and delicate chin perfectly. Her hair was shoulder-length, black and coily, like her mother’s, and her brown eyes were just a shade or two lighter than her smooth, mahogany skin. Her arms and shoulders were toned, as always, from her early morning workouts, but she’d never lost the subtle fullness in her hips and thighs that had showed up the summer of her fifteenth year and refused to budge since.

  “Not bad, Taylor.” she mumbled. She spritzed perfume on her wrists, turned and gave herself another quick look, then a final, perfunctory sigh, before heading out the door.

  * * *

  Walker’s was one of the only bars in Spring Branch, Texas, and had been Melody’s favorite place to eat in town since her 18th birthday. Since the place served a full menu, it still beat out Grey, the brand new, upscale wine house with wallet-gouging charcuterie boards and oddly shaped cheeses. Plus, Walker’s had been here forever, and as a bonus, it was now conveniently located directly across the street from Carynne’s coffee shop and about half a block from the site of Mel’s new boutique. She stepped in, immediately nostalgic at the smell of home-style food, Texas barbecue and roasted peanuts. She’d really missed this place, she suddenly realized. Glancing around now, she saw a few faces she remembered, but even more that she didn’t. It felt strange – growing up in a small place, leaving for nearly a decade and returning to find that so many things were different.

  From behind the bar, Byron Walker gave her a wink and a quick, welcoming nod. She offered a smile and a small wave before peering up at the 60-inch flat screen. The big screens, and the bacon-cheese fries (with jalapeno, because they were useless without them), were the real reason she’d suggested this place. Even if the date sucked, she’d still get to eat well and watch her men play. She glanced at her watch, 8:04, and moved to find a seat near the Spurs game on TV.

  Just then, she saw him. The date. Her date. That had to be him. He was the only person sitting alone at the bar, nursing a beer as he watched the game. Tall, she gauged, even though he was sitting. At least six-four, which was good, since she was on the tall side herself. Chestnut skin, a close-cut Van Dyke, deep brown eyes. He also looked like he kept in shape, since his broad shoulders were well-toned and just barely pulling at the seams of his jacket. God, she mused, he
was a beautiful man. She approached him slowly, tapping his shoulder and feeling her face flush a bit when he turned to face her.

  “Hi.” She offered a small smile. Are you my blind date?” Melody hoped this would serve as enough introduction, since she’d totally forgotten his name. What was it? Jack? John?

  “Yep, that’s me.” He slid off the stool, an easy smile gracing his face, and extended his hand to shake hers. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too.” Though it wasn’t her style, she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit excited. Go Aunt Gwen. She’d spring for a gift card in her Christmas stocking this year.

  “Have you been waiting long?” Melody slid onto the stool next to him.

  “No, not at all,” he said. “I’ve only been here a few minutes. I’m glad you picked this place.” He paused to take a sip. “Do you come here much?”

  “I used to. I just moved back here from Houston, so I actually haven’t been in this place in almost a year.”

  “That explains why I haven’t seen you. I feel like I’m in here once a week at least. Are you from there?”

  “Houston? Oh, no. I’m from here, actually.” She cracked open a peanut shell and popped one into her mouth before continuing. “I went for college and I ended up staying to build some work experience, and then to open my own clothing store. I’m opening a second location here in about six weeks.”

  “Wow.” He leaned back as if to check her out, earning a laugh. “Congrats!”

  “Thanks!” She lifted a hand, and when a bartender drifted over, she ordered a beer on tap. “So, what about you?”

  “I work at the high school. Moved here to coach basketball, actually.”

  They were two beers and fifteen minutes into a conversation about how the Spurs would do in the postseason when Byron ambled over, tossing a rag over his shoulder. “Melody! I heard you were back in town. How you been?”

  “I’m good, Mr. Walker. Thanks. How have you been?”

  “Just fine, kiddo. Thanks. Your store’s coming along real nice. Gonna need someone to run it. You back for good this time?”

  “We’ll see, but yes sir, I think so.”

  “Good, good.” He signaled to a customer down the bar. “You tell your mama I said hello.”

  Melody smiled. Mr. Walker had always held a torch for Mel’s mother.

  “I will, Mr. Walker.”

  When Byron turned away to help another customer, Melody noticed that her date… God, what was his name?... was giving her an odd look.

  “Everything okay?” She asked as Byron slid her another beer.

  “Uh, yeah. It’s just, I thought your name was…”

  “Melody?” A voice came from behind her. She turned to see a portly, smiling man in a khakis, a somewhat wrinkled button-down and a black leather jacket.

  “Yes?” She blinked, searching her memory for this man’s face. Was this someone from high school? A contractor for the store? She couldn’t place him.

  “I’m James. Sorry I’m so late. It’s really nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you from your aunt.” He offered a hand, and after a beat, she took it, bewildered.

  The realization slowly dawned on her, and she began to feel deflated. This… other guy… was her date? She smiled politely at James, whose name she now remembered, and stole a glance at the gorgeous man she’d been chatting with. He must have come for a blind date too, she surmised. Was there a word for awkward serendipity? If so, this was that.

  “Well,” she cleared her throat and turned to what she now thought of as her first-choice date.

  “It was nice chatting with you.” She held out a hand, and he took it. “Have a good night.”

  He offered a polite smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Having seen a genuine one just minutes before, she knew this one wasn’t real. “You too.” He turned to watch the game, but glanced back at her once more as James led her away to a table.

  * * *

  James seemed nice enough. He’d been working at the bank for six years, liked his job, enjoyed golf (which Mel hated) and was on a chess team in college. Not very athletic – no shared interest there, she thought to herself – but any hobbies were better than none at all. They chatted about her move back to town, her love of cheese fries, and her meddling aunt Gwen. He seemed decent, kind, and relatively attractive. A perfectly nice man. But her attention drifted away from him more than a few times, and her gaze slipped over the bar where her would-be date sat.

  Apparently, he had found his intended new friend. A tall, slim woman with a fire red dress and one of those short, sharp bobs that Mel has always wanted to try but didn’t think she looked sophisticated enough to pull off had attached herself to his arm. When he said something, she tossed her head back to laugh, brushing his arm with her fingertips as she did so. Melody stifled the desire to roll her eyes. She shifted in her seat and forced her attention back to James. He was rambling, something about mortgages. She allowed herself another glance toward the bar to find that she, too was being watched. A gentle heat warmed her face, in part because of his glance toward her, and partly because that woman now had a death grip on his arm.

  Okay, enough, she thought. “Man, I’m stuffed. Are you about done?” She shifted her attention again, to James, who had stopped talking to respond to a text or email.

  She paid for her half of the meal, casually chatting and politely ignoring James’ insistence on picking up the whole tab himself, before she stood to leave.

  “I’ll walk you out!” James offered, a bit too excitedly, as he stood to follow her out. She moved toward the door, James at her heels, and stole one last look at the god at the bar before stepping out into the cool night air.

  Chapter 2

  On Tuesday afternoon, Devin Parker stood at half court, just out of bounds, a whistle hanging from his lips, watching his students run drills. It was already 5:40, and they still had two new plays to run before anyone could go home. Watching them now, he considered making the practices a half-hour longer for the rest of the season. He didn’t want to tire the boys out, and he was adamant that schoolwork come first for all of them, but they could really use the extra time. The Spring Branch High School varsity basketball team was good, he’d even say damn good, but he wanted a state championship under his belt. And this year, without a doubt, he knew they could take it.

  It was almost impossible for him to get such a close-knit, small town community to let an outsider in, and that was just to be seen as part of the town. But to move to this place and coach the sport this town loved most meant that he had to prove himself over and over again. The parents were brutal, the expectations were high, and the kids all wanted scholarships. SBHS had a reputation for its athletics sending students to college, and in some cases, the pros, and he intended to uphold that tradition.

  They were 18 games into their 33-game season, undefeated, but they needed some tightening defensively. Their man-to-man positioning was still weak, and their offense-defense transition almost cost them the last game. He blew his whistle, ending rebounding drills, and waited as they lined up.

  “Man-to-man,” he announced before receiving a collective groan. He raised a brow. “Or we can all go outside and run laps. Hustle!” He blew two curt breaths into his whistle and eyed the boys’ positioning before turning to see his brother, Pryce, approaching from the gym’s double doors. Pryce stopped at Devin’s side and clapped him on the back.

  “How’s it going, Coach?”

  “Hey. You off work already?” Devin asked, referring to his brother’s position as a sergeant on Spring Branch’s police force.

  “Yeah. Pulling a double tomorrow so I’m off early today. Wanted to see if I could get you to call practice by six so you could come with me to Ma’s.”

  “Not a chance. We need some work before we play Wimberley on Friday. Besides, Ma’s always pissed at you
and I’d rather not be there for the brunt of it.”

  “Whatever.” Pryce crossed his arms and considered the team with a slight head tilt. “The kids are a hell of a lot better than last year, that’s for damn sure. I just knew that winning streak was going to end last week with those kids from San Antonio.”

  “We just barely pulled that one out,” Devin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “And since I’d rather not have a heart attack before this season ends, I’m thinking about extending practices.”

  “Longer practices?” Pryce blew a long breath, still watching the court. “Dick move, bro.”

  “Shut up. Go let Ma kick your ass. I’m busy.”

  “In a minute.” Pryce stretched, cracking several joints in his back. “I came to ask how that date with that girl went. Get any?”

  “Any what?” Devin spared his brother a sideward glance and raised an eyebrow.

  “Any sex, dumbass.”

  “You’re an idiot, and we’re in a gym. At a school. With children.” He paused. “But no.” Devin listened to the screech of shoes on the court before continuing. “Mariah’s fine and all, and she offered, but she’s not really my type. She’s kinda…” he sighed, searching for a word. “Vapid, I guess? She’s annoying.”

  Pryce furrowed his brow, wondering how he and his baby brother could be so different. “Any woman with an ass like that is my type. And what, exactly, does her being vapid and annoying have to do with your ability to fuck?”

  Devin gave his brother a half-shrug. He had a point. “I don’t know, man. I just wasn’t in the mood to entertain anybody I guess.”

  “Shit,” Pryce said, drawing the word out. “All I know is… Hey! Get back to work!” Pryce barked at a few students who had slowed drills to eavesdrop. They quickened their pace before he continued. “All I know is you need to have some fun. And she seems like all kinds of fun.”

  “If she’s so fun then you date her.”

  “Tried. She was interested in you from the get-go. Anyway, you still free on Thursday? With the extended practices and all? We’re supposed to put that new porch down in the back at the house.”