Wreck the Halls

They walked out of the building hand in hand and Beat squinted into the fading winter sunlight. Bells jingled somewhere in the distance. The lights strung between lampposts on the avenue were flickering on for the evening, casting the sidewalk in a muted glow. Cinnamon and sugar hung in the air, courtesy of the bakery across the street. There was something about holding Melody’s hand while surrounded with Christmas nostalgia that forced Beat to slow his step, experience it a little longer.

Or maybe he was just stalling.

An SUV idled at the curb, waiting to take them to the gala, where they would pose the possibility of a reunion to his mother. On camera. In all likelihood, the show could be done before it started. What would he do about the money then?

Melody squeezed his hand and smiled at him, like she knew his thoughts had taken a troubling turn. Christ, she looked beautiful. Soft and sexy, like a classic movie star who’d stepped straight off the screen. That gown hugged her in places he was doing his best not to notice, but obliviousness would be extraimpossible tonight. At least, for the moment, she was wearing a coat to cover the pale swells of her tits. The neat curve of waist into hips where he wanted to plant his hands and mold her. Examine her. Feel her.

His growing attraction to Melody was the exact last thing Beat needed right now on top of everything else. They were on camera; their every move was being documented. His blackmailer wouldn’t stop leaving messages. His mother might disown him by the time the night was over—and all he could think about was using his teeth to rip down the front of Melody’s dress.

“It’s going to be fine.” She inflated one of her cheeks with air and slowly let it out, so endearing his throat tightened up. “What kind of food is going to be at this party?”

“I have no idea,” he said softly.

“I thought you said you organized this gala.”

He tugged her in the direction of the SUV, Joseph walking backward in front of Beat and Melody to keep them in the camera’s sights. “I’m more of the big-picture guy.”

“You tell people the vision and they make it happen.”

“Correct.”

She laughed. “I’m sure it’s slightly more complicated than that. I’ve followed the progress of Octavia’s Ovations over the years. It’s incredible—the way the foundation finds talented kids without a lot of resources, plucks them out like diamonds in the rough and installs them in Juilliard or some other amazing performing arts school. One of the Ovations kids performed the national anthem at the Super Bowl last year, right? I mean, they never fail to blow everyone away. Whoever is selecting those kids must have sharp intuition.”

Beat helped Melody into the middle seat of the SUV, scrutinizing her face as she passed, trying to determine what she knew. But he didn’t have to study her too closely, because she wasn’t hiding anything. It was all right there on her face. “You’re . . . aware it’s me that does the selections?”

“Yes. Therefore, you’re forgiven for not knowing if there will be shrimp cocktail.”

“Oh, there’s always shrimp cocktail. That falls under the category of big picture stuff.”

“You’re obviously a visionary. What about dessert?”

He settled into the seat beside her. “A wide selection.”

She gasped. “That’s my favorite dessert.”

Beat’s laughter boomed through the SUV and Melody smiled, a pleased flush coloring her cheeks. Even though it was a terrible idea, he wanted to study that blush closer, so he scooted over, reached up, and grabbed her seat belt, greedily inhaling her gingerbread scent while he dragged the nylon strap across her body and engaged it with a click. Then he made the mistake of looking at her mouth and the zipper of his tuxedo pants turned restrictive. Jesus.

There was a camera recording his every move and still he couldn’t quite stop weighing the pros and cons of kissing her—

“Hey!” Someone shouted into the SUV through the door, which hadn’t been closed yet. Beat turned slightly to find a woman he didn’t recognize waving her phone around. “Holy shit. I’m watching your Instagram live right now.”

A pair of young men stopped in their tracks behind her on the sidewalk, their mouths dropping open. “Oh my God,” shouted one of them, jogging toward the car, his friend close behind. “Can we get on camera?”

Stranger number one used her body to block the men from entering the car. “Where is the gala? Are you really going to reunite the band? Are you two a couple? Seems like it!”

The two men were growing impatient and began elbowing their way into the SUV around the woman. A squabble ensued and Beat took their distraction as an opportunity to reach for the handle, swing the door closed, and slap the lock down. It wasn’t until the sound of the argument cut off and the SUV roared away from the curb that he realized his pulse was drilling like a jackhammer in his temples.

When he managed to find his voice, he turned toward Danielle where she sat in the rear row. “What happened to the security you were supposed to hire?” A finger poked Beat in the ribs and he realized he’d squashed Melody into the corner, using his body as a shield. With a muttered apology, he eased away. Slightly. “What if Melody had been sitting closest to the door?”

For once, Danielle looked caught off guard. Dumbstruck, even. “I . . . the security team is meeting us at the gala. I didn’t think we would require them this quickly.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, either,” Melody murmured.

They looked at the camera simultaneously.

Beat cleared his throat. “How many people are watching now?”

“Do you really want to know?” Danielle asked after a few seconds of tapping on her phone.

“No,” Melody said, quickly.

Beat thought of how easily Melody could have been yanked out of the car. Or asked something a lot more mortifying than their relationship status. “Hire more security.”

Danielle let out a breath and lifted her phone to her ear. “Good idea.”

Not five seconds later, everyone traveling in the SUV—him, Melody, Danielle, Joseph, a lighting technician, and the driver—seemed to get a text. Then another and another, turning the interior of the SUV into an echo chamber of electronic chimes.