Mostly Love

By Jayna Fontenot

Melody Taylor is a lot of things, but trusting isn't one of them. And when she returns to her hometown to open a new business, she has absolutely no intention of falling in love. But fate, friends, and family have something else in mind—something in the form of high school basketball coach Devin Parker. One accidental date, a few basketball games and a plate of cheese fries later, Melody can actually see this working out.

But when trust issues past and present threaten to tear them apart, Melody must finally learn that her fears don't have to define her life. And it may take seeing something destroyed to get her to recognize that love was right in front of her all along.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667846026

Book preview

Chapter 1

If there was one thing that Melody Taylor knew, it was that blind dates almost always sucked beyond belief. Unfortunately for her, she was going on this one anyway.

What are you going to wear? her closest friend, Carynne, asked from her perch on Melody’s bed. She’d folded her legs beneath her and was idly flipping through the pages of a gossip mag with the hand not holding a pint of ice cream.

I don’t know. This one? Melody turned away from her closet and held up a short green dress with threaded gold accents around the neckline.

Carynne gave her a look. Too much. It’s a bar.

Right, right. Melody hung her dress back up and ran her fingers along a row of clothes in her new closet. Her hand hovered over a pair of dark denim skinny jeans. How about these? She pulled them out and turned to Carynne.

Cute. Got a top for that?

Melody returned to her walk-in and emerged with a basic black V-neck. When Carynne gave her another look, this one less patient, she sighed and went to hang it back up. You know, she said from in her closet, you’re not being very helpful.

Shut it. Carynne called. Yes I am.

Melody appeared again in the doorway of the closet with a cream-colored loose-fitting tank with a keyhole back. Okay, Regis. Final answer.

Carynne snorted. We have a winner.

Melody walked over to the bed and dropped the clothes near the edge. Sitting, she took the spoon from Carynne’s pint and heaved some ice cream into her mouth. She spoke around it.

I don’t wanna go, you know.

Of course not. You never want to go to anything. And I’m not sharing. Carynne grabbed the spoon back and leaned away when Mel reached to retrieve it. One date won’t kill you, and your aunt said he was nice. What time is he coming?

He isn’t. I said I’d meet him there at seven thirty.

Carynne glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. You’re going to be late.

Yeah, I’m on it. Melody stood to change. Thanks for coming over, by the way. And helping with the unpacking and the decorating and the eating of all my food.

Anytime, hun. Carynne turned a page in her magazine before looking up. Oh, don’t wear those shoes.

What’s wrong with my shoes? Mel stuck her right foot out to glance down at her flats.

Wear something with a heel, for God’s sake. Just because you don’t want to go out doesn’t mean you have to dress like my mother.

You’re mean today, short stack. Mel kicked off her shoes and plucked a pair of modest heels from the floor. She wiggled into them before turning once again to the mirror.

See? Adorable. Carynne offered a grin that Melody returned after a quick eye roll in the mirror’s reflection. What’s this guy like, anyway?

Not sure, Mel sighed. Aunt Gwen said he works at the bank, and that he’s nice, and that I should really think about finding someone to settle down with, and when am I going to start thinking about marriage, and what about children, don’t I want children, and blah blah blah. Melody decided on some plain silver hoops and walked over to her dresser. Shit. Where’s my jewelry box?

Did you unpack it yet?

Guess not. She disappeared into the hallway and returned with a box marked Bedroom. Opening it, she dug around until she found her small brown jewelry chest, which she dropped on the bed to open. Tilting her head to put on her earrings, she sighed once more before straightening up. Okay. How do I look?

"Very pretty, friend. Have a good time. I’m gonna go catch the rest of Big Brother. Carynne stood up, taking the magazine with her, and crossed the room to the door. And, Mel?"

Melody turned to her friend.

I’m glad you’re back.

She smiled warmly. Me too, C.

Melody flipped on the light in her new bathroom, which still needed new hardware for the faucets, new flooring, and a serious paint job, and gave herself another once-over in the small antique mirror above the sink. She considered wearing her hair down, but today was humid, and she decided against it, bunching it into a high ponytail and letting her curls do what they would. Opting not to go with much makeup, she dusted some highlight on her cheeks, nose, and forehead, applied mascara, and finished off with a sheer lip gloss. She stepped back. The high cheekbones that she’d once hated as a teen now sort of fit her face. She’d been angular her whole life and had spent most of her youth gawky and ungraceful. Luckily, though, the refinement that comes with age hit her almost as hard as puberty had. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and coily, like her mother’s, and her brown eyes were just a shade or two lighter than her smooth mahogany skin. Her arms and shoulders were toned, as always, from her morning workouts, but she managed to stay somewhat curvy, which she loved.

Not bad, you. she mumbled. She spritzed perfume on her wrists, turned, and gave herself another quick look, and then a final perfunctory sigh, before heading out the door.

* * *

Walker’s was one of the only bars in Spring Branch, Texas, and had been Melody’s favorite place to eat in town since before she could legally get in. When she’d been in high school, she and Carynne had secured a couple of poorly laminated fake IDs that fooled absolutely no one, dressed in their shortest shorts, and flounced down to the bar. Byron, an old friend of her mother’s and owner of the bar, had rolled his eyes at their IDs and, when they ordered two margaritas, brought them two tall plastic cups full of Sprite. When she’d gotten home that night, her mother informed her that Byron had called, and that the next time she decided to sneak into a bar, she hoped she’d have enough sense to try a place whose owner didn’t teach her to ride a bike.

Since Walker’s served a full menu, Melody had chosen it over Grey for this date, the brand-new upscale wine house with wallet-gouging charcuterie boards and an overwhelming selection of cheeses. Plus, Walker’s was now conveniently located directly across the street from Carynne’s three-year-old coffee shop and about half a block from the site of Mel’s new store. She waved at a few people nearby as she approached the bar, recognizing them from childhood or from recent interactions since she’d moved back to town, and swung the door of the bar open. She stepped in, immediately nostalgic at the smell of old wood, Texas barbecue, and roasted peanuts. She’d missed this place, she quietly realized. Glancing around now, she saw a few faces she remembered but even more that she didn’t. It felt strange: growing up in a small place, leaving for nearly a decade, and returning to find that things were different.

From behind the bar, Byron Walker gave her a wink and a quick welcoming nod. She offered a smile and a small wave before peering up at the sixty-inch flat screen. The big screens and the bacon-cheese fries (with jalapeno, of course, because fries are useless without them) were the biggest reasons she’d suggested this place. Even if the date sucked, she’d still get to eat and watch the game. She glanced at her watch and moved to find a seat near the Spurs game on TV.

As she approached an empty seat at the bar, she saw him—the date, her date.

He was the only person sitting alone at the bar, nursing a beer as he watched the game. Tall, she gauged, even though he was sitting. At least six-four, which was good, since she was on the tall side herself. Chestnut skin, a close-cut beard, and deep brown eyes. He also looked like he kept in decent shape. He wore an open flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers. She approached him slowly, tapped his shoulder, and smiled when he turned to face her.

Hey there. I take it you’re my blind date? Melody hoped this would serve as enough introduction, since she’d totally forgotten his name. What was it? Jack? John?

Yep, that’s me. He slid off the stool, an easy smile on his face, and extended his hand to shake hers. Nice to finally meet you.

You too. He was cuter up close. Though it wasn’t really like her, she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit excited. Good job, Aunt Gwen, she thought to herself. Have you been waiting long? Melody slid onto the stool next to him.

Nope, not at all, he said. I’ve only been here a few minutes. I’m glad you picked this place. He sat again and then took a sip of his beer. Do you come here much?

I used to. I just moved back here from Houston, so I actually haven’t been to this place in quite a while.

He nodded a bit. That explains why I haven’t seen you. I feel like I’m in here once a week at least. He paused as she ordered a beer from the bartender. So, you were living in Houston?

Yeah, for almost ten years. She grabbed a peanut from a bowl on the bar, cracked open the shell, and popped one into her mouth before continuing. I went for college, and I ended up staying to build some work experience as a retail buyer, and then I managed to open a little clothing boutique downtown. I’m opening a second location here in about six weeks.

Wow. He leaned back as if to say, Check you out, earning a laugh. Congrats!

Thanks. I’m excited, and I’m happy to be home. What about you? Where are you from? What do you do?

California, originally, but I’ve lived a couple places. I work at the high school. Moved here to coach basketball.

Melody’s interest piqued. She’d played basketball in high school and in college, and playing was still one of her favorite ways to spend her time.

They were two beers and twenty minutes into a conversation about how the Spurs would do in the postseason when Byron ambled over, tossing a rag over his shoulder. Mel! I heard you were back in town. How you been?

I’m good, Mr. Walker. Thanks. How have you been?

Just fine, kiddo. Thanks. Your store’s coming along real nice. Gonna need someone to run it. You back for good this time?

"We’ll see, but yes, sir, I