Chapter 14 #2
As she speaks, she shifts slightly, her knee brushing against mine. The contact, even through layers of denim, sends a jolt of electricity up my leg. Her scent spikes momentarily, and her eyes dart to mine, wide with surprise.
She doesn’t pull away, though, and neither do I.
“I’m good at building things,” I offer. “I mean, if you want help—with the gingerbread—houses…Building.”
“Smooth,” Finn teases, and I feel my face heat up.
I’m the most confident person I know, and I’m reduced to a baffling buffoon.
But Melody’s eyes light up. “Really? That would be amazing. My attempt this morning was a disaster.”
“I brought a whole stack of games that were supposed to be for family game night,” she adds, a flicker of sadness crossing her face before she brightens again. “There’s Monopoly, Scrabble, Uno…”
“I’m terrible at cards,” I admit, looking at the hand I’ve been dealt with confusion.
“Perfect,” Finn says with a grin. “We’ll play poker. Strip poker.”
“We will not,” Gabe says firmly, shooting Finn a look.
“Regular poker,” Melody agrees, her cheeks turning pink. “Or Uno. I’m a savage at Uno.”
We settle into the game, and I find myself directly across from Melody. Every time she looks up from her cards, our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. I try to focus on my cards, but I’m hyperaware of her every movement, every slight shift in her scent.
I’m also aware of Gabe watching me watch Melody.
“I’ll take three,” Finn says, breaking my train of thought.
I look down at my cards. I have absolutely no idea what I’m holding. Something with a king. Maybe a seven? I’ve been too distracted to pay attention.
“Earth to Everett,” Melody says, her lips curved in a teasing smile. “How many cards do you want?”
“Two,” I say randomly, discarding what I hope aren’t the good cards.
She deals me two new ones, her fingers brushing against mine as she passes them over. The brief contact sends a jolt through me that’s entirely disproportionate to the touch.
“Careful,” Gabe murmurs, his voice low enough that I’m not sure Melody can hear. “Your scent’s getting stronger.”
I take a deep breath, trying to rein myself in. This is ridiculous. I’m acting like a teenager with his first crush, not a grown alpha running a business and managing millions in investments.
But then Melody looks up from her cards again, catching my gaze, and all my self-control evaporates. Her eyes widen slightly, and I see her nostrils flare as she takes in my scent. Her own scent shifts in response, the vanilla notes intensifying, the clove becoming more pronounced.
“I fold,” Finn announces, dropping his cards on the table. “I know when I’m outmatched.”
He’s not talking about the poker hand.
Gabe follows suit, setting his cards down without comment. His eyes move between Melody and me, watchful but not interfering.
“I guess it’s just us,” Melody says, her voice slightly breathless. “What do you have?”
I look down at my cards, realizing I still have no idea what I’m holding. “Honestly? I have no clue. I wasn’t paying attention.”
She laughs, the sound bright and genuine. “That makes two of us. I can’t remember the last time I was this bad at cards.”
We both lay our hands on the table. She has a pair of twos. I have a king high.
“You win,” I concede, leaning back in my chair.
“With a pair of twos? That’s pathetic,” she says, but she’s smiling as she gathers the cards. “Another round?”
We play for another hour, and I don’t think any of us could tell you who won or lost the most hands. The game is just an excuse to sit together, to talk and laugh and exist in this warm, comfortable space we’ve created.
Eventually, Finn yawns dramatically. “Well, I’m beat. All that supervising today really took it out of me.”
“You sat on a stump and ate snacks,” Gabe points out.
“Exactly. Do you know how hard it is to find a comfortable position on a stump? It’s exhausting.” Finn stands and stretches. “I’m heading to bed. Gabe?”
There’s a loaded moment where Gabe looks between Finn and me, something unspoken passing between them.
“Coming,” Gabe says finally, rising from his chair. “Goodnight, you two.”
They head upstairs, leaving Melody and me alone with Oxford, who has moved closer to the fire and is watching us with unblinking eyes.
“I should probably take him home,” I say, nodding toward the llama. “It’s getting late.”
Melody shakes her head. “He can stay. He seems comfortable here.”
“Are you sure? He can be a bit… high-maintenance.”
“I think we understand each other,” she says, her voice soft with affection as she looks at Oxford. “Besides, I promised I’d walk him tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure,” I say. “I should head back anyway. Early start tomorrow with the trees.”
I stand, but Melody doesn’t move.
“Thank you for coming over,” she says, stifling a yawn. “It was nice having you here.”
“Thanks for the card game. Even if I was terrible at it.”
She laughs, the sound slightly drowsy. “We were both terrible.”
I move to the door, gathering my coat. When I turn back, Melody has curled up on the sofa, her eyes already closing. She looks peaceful, soft, and utterly exhausted.
“Melody? Should I help you upstairs before I go?”
She makes a slight noise that might be a disagreement. “Just resting my eyes for a minute,” she murmurs. “Then I’ll go up.”
I should leave. She’s falling asleep, and it would be creepy to stay and watch her. I grab a blanket, the one from my bed, and drape it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She sighs contentedly, snuggling deeper into its warmth.
“Goodnight, Melody,” I whisper.
As I quietly let myself out, I glance back. Oxford has moved from his pillow bed to the floor beside the sofa, positioning himself like a guardian next to Melody’s sleeping form.
His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear there’s understanding in them.
Take care of her, and Oxford blinks once, as if in agreement.
I close the door softly behind me, stepping out into the cold night air. But I can still feel the warmth of her skin against my fingertips, can still smell the vanilla-clove scent that now seems to cling to me.
And as I walk to my truck, I realize I’ve left more than just my blanket. I’ve left a piece of me, too.