Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
What was it TMZ had said about her?
Melody Gallard: always a before picture, never an after.
Beat was talking to her, however.
Not only that, but he was also jogging over in this athletic, effortless way, the way a celebrity might approach the mound at a baseball game to throw out the ceremonial first pitch, the crowd cheering him on. His hair had arranged itself back to a perfect coif, no evidence of the rain that she could see, his mouth in a bemused half smile.
Beat slowed to a stop in front of her, rubbing at the back of his neck and glancing around at their rapt audience, as if he’d acted without thinking and was now bashful about it. And the fact that he could be shy or self-conscious with charisma pouring out of his eyeballs was astounding. Who was this creature? How could they possibly share a connection?
“Hey,” he breathed, coming in closer than Melody expected, that one move making them coconspirators. He wasn’t overly tall, maybe five eleven, but her eyes were level with his chin. His sculpted, clean-shaven chin. Wow, he smelled so good. Like a freshly laundered blanket with some fireplace smoke clinging to it. Maybe she should switch from powder fresh Speed Stick to something a little more mature. Like ocean surf. “Hey, Mel. Can I call you that?”
No one had ever shortened her name before. Not her mother, classmates, or any of the nannies she’d had over the years. A nickname was something that should be attained over time, after a long acquaintance with someone, but Beat calling her Mel somehow seemed totally normal. Their names were counterparts, after all. They’d been named as a pair, whether it had been intentional or not.
“Sure,” she whispered, trying not to stare at his throat. Or inhale him. “You can call me Mel.”
Was this her first crush? Was it supposed to happen this fast? She usually found members of a different sex sort of . . . uninspiring. They didn’t make her pulse race, the way this one did. Say something else before you bore him to death.
“You stopped the rain,” she blurted.
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
I’m dissolving. I’m being absorbed by the floor. “When you walked in, the rain just . . . stopped.” She snapped her fingers. “Like you’d turned it off with a switch.”
When Melody was positive that he would cringe and make an excuse to walk away, Beat smiled instead. That lopsided one that made her feel funny everywhere. “I should have thought of switching it off before walking two blocks in a downpour.” He laughed and exhaled at the same time, studying her face. “It’s . . . crazy, right? Finally meeting?”
“Yeah.” The word burst out of Melody and quite unexpectedly, her chest started to swell. “It’s definitely crazy.”
He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off her face.
She’d heard of people like him.
People who could make you feel like you were the only one in the room. The world. She’d believed in the existence of such unicorns, she just never in her wildest dreams expected to be given the undivided attention of one. It was like bathing in the brightest of sunlight.
“If things had been different with our mothers, we probably would have grown up together,” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “We might even be best friends.”
“Oh,” she said with a knowing look. “I don’t think so.”
His amusement only spread. “No?”
“I don’t mean that to be offensive,” Melody rushed to say. “I just . . . I tend to keep to myself, and you seem more . . .”
“Extroverted.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Yeah. I am.” He waved a hand to indicate the room, the crew who were still captivated by the first—maybe only—meeting of Beat Dawkins and Melody Gallard. “You might think I’d be into this. Talking, being on camera.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “But it’s always the same questions. Can you sing, too? Does your mother ever talk about the breakup?”
“Will there ever be a reunion?” Melody chimed in.
“Nope,” they said at the same exact time—and laughed.
Beat turned serious. “Look, I hope this isn’t out of line, but I notice the way the tabloids treat you. Online and off. It’s . . . different from how they treat me.” Fire scaled the sides of her neck and gripped her ears. Of course he’d seen the cringe-inducing critiques of Melody. They were usually included in articles that profiled him, as well. The most recent one had whittled her entire existence down to the line, In the case of Trina Gallard’s daughter, the apple didn’t just fall far from the tree, it’s more of a lemon. “I always wonder if it bothers you. Or if you’re able to blow that bullshit off.”
“Oh, I mean . . .” She laughed, too loudly, waved a hand on a floppy fist. “It’s fine. People expect those gossip sites to be snarky. They’re just doing their job.”