Tangled Hearts (Passion in Paradise) (4 page)

“Well, shit,” Melody
said on a sigh, her cheeks flushing bright red as she realized just how much
she must have insulted the guy standing there staring at her.

“And here I’d always
heard that the South was supposed to be the friendliest part of the United
States,” he mocked.  “Are you sure that
you’re
from around here?”

Scowling at the man
determined to make her lose her mind, Melody shook her head.  “I apologize for
the dig about your mother.  If I’d known….”

“Save it,” the man
ordered.  “We’re even, I guess.  According to you, I was rude first.”

“That’s true, but that
still doesn’t excuse my behavior,” Melody muttered unhappily, crossing her arms
over her chest as the cold wind blew over them.  “I really am sorry.  Thank you
for my coffee,” she said, lifting the cup in her hand in farewell.  “Have a good
day,” she said again before turning and walking in the direction of her car.

She made it exactly
three steps.  She counted, damn it.

“Son of a
bitch
,”
she cried, the coffee cup falling from her now numb fingers as she spotted her
car, the front driver side tire obviously flat.  Hurrying toward it, she
groaned as she got a good look at the flattened tire.  “Why, Lord?” she
beseeched the Heavens a she tilted her head toward the sky.  “Why me?”

“Perhaps He doesn’t
like the way you express your gratitude either,” a heavily amused, irritatingly
familiar masculine voice surmised.

The picture he’d been
carrying in his wallet for the last few weeks didn’t do her nearly enough
justice, Callum thought with a grin.  Crossing a boot-shod foot over the other
and leaning negligently back against his shiny, new black F-150 truck, he
watched Melody Reardon’s firm ass waving in the air as she bent over to get a
better look at the tire on her car.    “It’s flat, sweetheart,” he added, more
to goad her than to be of any actual assistance.

Choking back his
laughter as the look she shot him threatened to skewer him where he stood, he
made a mental note to call and tell RJ that he was wrong.  The other man’s
sister wasn’t the sweet little girl he’d painted her to be.  Hell, no.  She was
a firecracker of the first degree.  Hot as hell, and explosive as all fuck.

But the fact remained
unchanged that his former soldier genuinely believed that his sister needed a
guardian angel.  So when the Army had released him from service a couple of
weeks ago, Ret. First Sgt. Callum ‘Cal’ Valentine had hightailed his ass with
all possible haste to the Smoky Mountains in the great state of Tennessee.  All
so he could protect a woman that looked fully capable of killing, gutting, and
dumping his body in one of the many caves the mountains provided. 

He’d been ghosting this
little spitfire for a solid week, observing her, yeah, but more importantly,
he’d been watching to see if anybody else was watching her.  So far, nobody
seemed to be overly interested in Melody Reardon’s whereabouts, but Cal knew
that could change on a dime.  Especially when there was a douchebag ex-fiancé
apparently involved.

He’d gotten the basic
sit rep (or situational report) about the current state of Melody’s life from
her brother, RJ.  It wasn’t exactly a unique story.  Girl meets wealthy boy and
fell in love.  They get engaged and prepare to live happily ever after until
girl finds out boy is actually an incurable cheating, misogynistic asshat. 
Girl breaks engagement and cuts ties with said asshat.

It should have been a
closed case.

Except for the part
where the asshat in question begins to tell everyone who’ll listen - including
girl’s war deployed brother - that he was going to win back the girl.  RJ had, of
course, told the asshat to fuck off and stay away from his sister or else, but
both RJ and the asshat had known it was an empty threat.  Really, what could RJ
do from Afghanistan? 

The funny part? 
Somehow, the girl in question had managed to remain happily oblivious to her
ex’s nefarious plan.  Evidently he was telling everyone except Melody that he
planned to get her back.  The asshat was also apparently a dumbass.  Talk about
multi-tasking.

And that’s where he
came in, Cal thought with a sigh as he continued to stare at Melody’s shapely
ass as she studiously ignored his presence behind her.  It was his job to make
absolutely sure that the asshat-cum-dumbass in question remained an ex.  And to,
in RJ’s words, ‘Do that shit by any and all means necessary, Sergeant V!’ 

Yeah, Cal could still
hear the kid’s parting words ringing in his ears as he’d handed over a picture
of his sister.  The photograph had been about five years old, but Melody still
looked mostly the same.  Only hotter.  Way, way fucking hotter, Cal
acknowledged to himself with a long look at the lovely Melody. 

He hadn’t introduced
himself yet because he’d wanted to do a little more surveillance on her, but
this impromptu meeting today might just move up his timetable.  He wasn’t a guy
that believed in love at first sight, but there was no doubt that this woman
intrigued him.  He definitely wanted to get to know her better – up close and
real personal-like.  And to get to know her better, that meant she needed to
know that he wasn’t the enemy.

“Are you following me?”
Melody hissed without looking at him as she slowly rose back to her feet and
dusted off the knees of her slacks. 

Cal’s lips twitched at
her curt tone, but he managed to keep a straight face as she cut her eyes
toward him.  “Nope,” he denied.  “It’s just a happy coincidence that I parked
next to you.  God apparently thought I needed some entertainment today, Little
Miss Sunshine,” he teased, biting his lip to keep from chuckling when he heard
her grind her teeth.  Maybe he’d keep his identity quiet for a little longer. 
He was having way too much fun messing with her.

“Good to know that I’m
doing my Christian duty by you,” she muttered darkly as she stomped past him,
narrowly missing stepping on his foot as she stormed toward her trunk.

Watching her press a
button on her key chain before she lifted the lid, he lost sight of her as she
bent over to root around inside the trunk.  From the muffled swear words he
heard falling off lips that he just
knew
would look perfect wrapped
around his dick, he could hear that she was having trouble getting the spare
off the built-in mount in the trunk.  “Need some help?” he drawled loudly.

“No!” she snapped
waspishly back at him, not bothering to lift her head as she concentrated on
what she was doing.

“Are you sure?” he
asked with a yawn, nearly choked on his amusement as he heard her drop the
f-bomb in an obviously unlady-like voice.

Looking around the side
of the car at him, she flashed him a look that would have had a lesser man
quaking in his boots.   “Are you wearing a hearing aide that you need to turn
up the volume on?” she asked loudly, enunciating each word.

“Cute,” he replied
dryly.  “I’m not
that
much older than you,” he added with a frown. 
Honest to God, how old did this chick think he was?  Sure, he had a little
silver in his hair, but forty-fucking-two wasn’t that fucking old.  How old had
Sgt. Reardon said his sister was?  Twenty-nine?  Thirty? 

Melody exhaled a
frustrated breath.  “You’re right.  You’re not that old, and I’m being a
bitch.  I’m a terrible person. You should feel free to go far, far away from
me,” she invited him as she made a shooing motion with her fingers.

Tilting his head to the
side, he couldn’t believe this woman.  Was she actually trying to dismiss
him
? 
“I’m fine right here, Sweet Cheeks.”

“Sweet Cheeks?” she
echoed through clenched cheeks.

“Darlin’, with the fine
ass you’ve been waving under my nose for the last five minutes, did you really
expect me to call you anything else?” he asked curiously, laughing when she
released a low growl and glared at him.

“You’re a pig, and I
think I’m done with this conversation,” she retorted with a red face as she
bent back over her trunk and resumed pulling out her spare tire. 

“I’ve certainly got
better things to do than continue to stand and try to talk sense to a
Neanderthal. I’ve got a business to launch, dammit.  I do NOT have time for
good looking Cavemen that offer my butt backhanded compliments,” he heard her
continue to rant under her breath.

“I didn’t think my
compliment was backhanded at all,” Cal called out more to let her know he could
still hear her more than anything else.  Eyeing Melody as she finally
straightened, slightly out of breath as she dropped the spare tire to the
pavement and began to roll it toward her flat, he couldn’t help his grin. 
Damn, even sweaty and in a bad humor, she was the most gorgeous thing he’d seen
in years.  “I can do that for you, you know,” he offered generously.

“No,” she denied
flatly, not looking at him as she pulled her long ponytail tight against her
head.  “I’ve got this.”

“Sure, you do.” Cal
smirked, watching as she leaned the spare against the car before going back to
the trunk for the jack.  “I could just do it better and faster.”

“Because you’re so much
more superior than I am, huh?” she bit out harshly as she jerked the heavy jack
from the depths of the trunk.

“No, darlin’.  Because
I’m stronger,” he growled, stomping toward her as he watched her struggle with
the weight of the jack.  At the rate she was going, she was going to pull a
muscle in her back, and he found that he didn’t like the thought of her in pain
one bit.  “Give me that,” he ordered sternly as he held out his hand to grab
the tool.

Snatching the jack
toward her chest, she narrowed her eyes.  “Over my dead body,” she spat
determinedly, her eyes daring him to lay one finger on the metal tool.  It was
clear that it would be at his peril.

“For Christ’s sake,
fine!” he snarled, rolling his eyes as he stepped quickly out of her way.  “You
drop that thing on your foot, you’re liable to break a toe, woman,” he cautioned
her, resuming his position leaning against his truck as she knelt on the
ground.

“Thank you so much for
the warning,” she returned through barely moving lips.

Cal watched her another
minute.  “You’re a stubborn little ball of fury, aren’t you?” he asked as he
watched her try to attach the tool to the lug nut, wincing as the metal slipped
for the second time in a row.

Melody took a deep
breath before she slowly turned to face her tormenter.  “I was brought up
believing that a girl should be able to take care of herself.  I forgot that
lesson for a little while and almost made a mistake I could never undo with a
man I’d rather forget.  I’m not ever going to repeat that experience again. 
So, to answer your question, yes, I’m a stubborn little ball of fury.  Now,
will you
please
go on your merry way?”

Cal finally gave into
the urge and laughed, earning himself a cold look from the woman currently on
her knees.  “Careful, Princess.  I’m gonna get a complex here because it’s
beginning to feel like you don’t like me very much,” he taunted her with a
wink.  Seeing her press her lips together tightly, he knew she was fighting the
urge to scream bloody murder at him.  Squatting beside her, he met her fiery
gaze.  “Cat got your tongue, Pretty Girl?”

“No,” she declared with
a shake of her head as she looked from him to his jacked up truck.  “Do you
mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask away, darlin’,” he
invited silkily with a ready nod.  “I’m an open book,” he declared, holding his
muscular arms out to his sides.  And it was true.  The book on him
was
open; it just happened to be written in code, he thought to himself as he gave
himself a mental pat on the back for his own wittiness.

Melody offered him a
deceptively sweet smile.  “Is it true that men use big trucks to compensate for
smaller endowments in, well,… other
more intimate
areas?” she asked,
dropping her voice to a conversational whisper as she gave his crotch a rather
pointed look. 

Cal guffawed.  “Are you
asking me if I’ve got a tiny dick, Princess?  Because I can tell you with a
hundred percent honesty that the size of my cock and the size of my truck are
very
directly
related.  They’re both big and bad, but if you don’t
believe me, I’d be pleased to give you a private showing.”

Melody’s jaw dropped at
his audacity.  “You… you just can’t
say
things like that!” she
blustered, blushing furiously as he laughed in her face.

“I just did.  Besides,
you started it,” he accused, propping his hands on his narrow hips as he leaned
forward and stared her down.  “Don’t dish it out if you can’t handle having it
spoon-fed back to you, Princess.”  Damn, Cal privately mused, he hadn’t had
this much fun with a woman with her clothes on in years.  He couldn’t help
wondering how exciting she’d be with her clothes off.  He definitely be making
it a point to find that out as soon as humanly possible.

“I revert to my earlier
statement.  You are a pig,” she reiterated with a disgusted shake of her head,
her ponytail flying over one shoulder to smack him in the face as she moved.

“Maybe, but you’re just
mad that you can’t seem to get one-up on me.  Not used to a man that will stand
his ground and fight with you?” he asked, fishing for a response from her.  He
wanted to know just how much she’d reveal about her ex-fiancé in casual
conversation.  Her brother didn’t think there’d been any kind of physical abuse
and based on her reactions to him, he tended to think RJ was right, but he
wanted to be sure.  Because if he was wrong, she wouldn’t need his protection
because he’d simply kill the motherfucker and be done with it.

“My former fiancé
didn’t fight.  It was too low-class a thing for him to do.  He used to call our
arguments spirited debates.  My ass, they were debates.  Freaking moron.  A
fight is a fight, right?” she asked as she grunted with exertion while she
tried to pry one of the lug nuts loose. 

“Right,” he agreed with
a nod, sighing as her tool slipped again.  “Politicians have….what did you call
‘em?  Spirited debates?  Real men and women fight.”

“See, that’s what I
thought, too.  But maybe that was the problem,” Melody muttered as she twisted
the tire iron sharply, silently cursing the tight bolt.  “I always did think
Bradley had political ambitions.  God knows that it’s what his dear old mommy
and daddy wanted for him,” she continued to growl through gritted teeth as she
twisted the tire iron violently.  “Eureka!” she shouted when the bolt moved a
few millimeters.  “Did you see that?  It moved,” she yelped, as her body made a
tiny celebratory shimmy.