Wreck the Halls

Not the least of which was having sex with Beat.

Although could one actually refer to what they’d done as sex?

It had been more like . . . mating?

There was none of the awkward pawing and requesting of boundaries and laboring to find the correct rhythm. She’d had an animal mindset. Give, receive, don’t think, get pleasure, give it back. Give, receive, give until the very sky was coming down. She’d expected sex with Beat to be amazing, unforgettable, orgasmic. And she’d severely underestimated it.

Shouldn’t she be glowing and blushing and preening this morning?

She’d woken up wrapped in Beat’s arms and something inside of her had been off. And being off with Beat around? That was new. It was usually the opposite.

Danielle turned in the front seat of the SUV, giving Melody a speculative once-over. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

Several seconds passed.

Danielle checked her watch. “The plane should be ready and waiting. You said Beat is still upstairs sleeping?”

“Yeah.” Melody shook herself out of her stupor. Somewhat. “Yeah, we went back down to the party for a while after you left for the motel last night.” Lie. “Too much tequila.”

“You mean, after you belted ‘Rattle the Cage’ and brought the house down?”

Melody forced a laugh. “Yes. After that.”

Danielle studied her. “Are you sure that’s all that happened?”

Before Melody could locate an answer, the front door of the house opened and Beat blew out into the early morning light, his hair in ninety directions, shirt still unbuttoned. His turbulent gaze searched the immediate area and homed right in on Melody where she sat in the back row of the SUV. They stared at each other through the glass for a handful of heavy seconds until she swallowed and looked away, her chest twisting like a pretzel.

Should she have stayed in bed? Been there when he woke up?

They might have made love again. God knew she would have enjoyed it.

So what was wrong with her?

Please just get me home.

A moment later, the back door of the SUV opened, shooting Melody’s heart into her mouth. Beat climbed in beside her, his inviting smoky fireplace scent filling the vehicle’s interior. If she glanced over, she would find him staring at her with that singular intensity. The warmth on her cheek and some unnamed intuition told her so.

Joseph settled in the middle row, hefting the camera up onto his shoulder. “Starting the live stream in three—”

“Wait,” Beat clipped, tipping up Melody’s chin. “Hey. Look at me.”

She steeled herself before doing as he asked.

Whatever Beat saw caused some of the color to leave his face. “What’s wrong, Peach?”

“I don’t know,” she said, honestly.

“Okay.” He lowered his voice another octave, so it would only reach Melody’s ears, a flicker of dread in his gaze. “Did I hurt you last night?”

“No. God, no. Nothing like that.”

Air escaped him in a gust.

All right, she was worrying him. Being vague and evasive, which wasn’t fair when he was clearly worried. What was wrong? She needed to figure out a way to say it out loud, put it on the table. “I guess . . . I loved what we did last night. Every second. It was perfect. But . . .” Hyperaware of the other two people in the SUV, she leaned over to speak near Beat’s ear. “You told me on the plane that you don’t want to let anyone in . . . at the end. And that’s your right. That’s totally okay, but I didn’t expect it to make me feel so . . . lonely.”

Devastation rolled off him in such thick waves, she almost wanted to take back her explanation. “I made you feel lonely?” he asked, sounding hollow.

“Maybe it’s me.”

“No. Never.”

“I mean, maybe I need to be let in. Maybe I need that trust. From you. With you. Or . . . nothing at all.” She swallowed a rock. “There’s nothing for either of us to be sorry about. There’s no blame to cast. We decided to try—and we did.”

Beat said nothing, continuing to stare out the car window on the other side of Melody.

A full minute of silence ticked by in the car before Danielle gently broke it. “Did you want to say goodbye to your mother, Mel?”

“No. I did that last night,” she said, lips feeling stiff. “All set.”

“Should I start the stream now?” asked Joseph.

Beat and Melody took a deep breath in tandem and nodded.

She watched the red light jump to life in the rearview mirror, watching the numbers multiply on Danielle’s phone, though she was too far away to read them clearly. How many people had witnessed their impromptu show last night? How many people were wondering what happened after they left the room, obviously heading upstairs?

Melody almost laughed. Even the best guesses would be wrong.

“So I am going to go out on a limb here . . .” Melody started. “And say that we have a better chance of John Cena performing on Christmas Eve than Trina Gallard. Unless I misread her, there’s no way she’s going to do it.”

“Where does that leave us?” Beat asked Danielle, while still looking at Melody.

The producer hummed. “Don’t worry, I have a trick up my sleeve.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Something to keep the conversation on the table . . .”

“Ooh.” Melody produced a smile. “Does it involve me getting arrested again?”

“It better not,” Beat said.

“No, it doesn’t. But I need a couple of days to pull everything together.” Danielle steepled her fingers as she spoke. “In light of Trina’s refusal yesterday, I spent some time last night outlining our next approach. For now, we’re going to split up for the next two days. With all the attention we’re getting, the network approved a second cameraman.”

“They won’t be as good as me,” Joseph rumbled.

Danielle’s mouth twisted. “Do you want me to hold your camera so you can stroke your ego with both hands?”

Joseph glared at the producer. “Been doing more than enough stroking since I took this job.”

If looks could kill, he would have been dead. “Of all people, you know we’re live.”

“You brought it up.”

Danielle tipped her face up toward the ceiling. “I love my new plan. I can’t wait to split up.”

“If you think I’m letting you film with another cameraman, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The producer was on the verge of arguing, but visibly swallowed her rejoinder. “As I was saying,” she said, with a pointed look at the camera. “We’re going to split up for two days. Beat will be with one of the cameramen and an associate producer. I’ll stay with Mel and the other cameraman. If all goes according to plan, we’ll reconvene on Tuesday morning . . .” She executed a mini drumroll on the back of the seat. “On the Today show. Bright and early.”

“The Today show?” Melody exclaimed. “They want to bring us on?”