Defying the Odds(13)

She placed Clay’s plate in front of him and then helped herself to the booth seat across from him. Hidden like he was in the corner, she could sit with him free from prying eyes. That was the thing with Garnet; everyone was in everyone else’s business.



“I think this town needs a movie theater.” Melody pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees as she watched Clay eat his country-fried steak. “All they got to worry ’bout is what we’re doing.”



Clay lifted his gaze to hers and then leaned out of the booth, looking to the counter. When he turned back to his dinner, a smile tugged at his lips.



“They’re watching us?” Melody asked, knowing the answer for herself.



“Yup.” Clay grunted as he cut his meat. “Didja eat?”



“Been snacking. I’m good.” Melody’s eyes felt heavy, and she was half tempted to fall asleep right there at the booth. “Tell me ’bout your day.”



“It’s not very exciting.”



“I like to hear your voice,” Melody admitted, blinking tiredly at Clay. He was wearing his usual black cap pulled low over his eyes. His bruises had healed, and he was looking very handsome and rugged this evening with a day’s worth of dark beard growth decorating his jaw. She couldn’t help but smile as she admired him. “I think ’bout it at night, your voice, before I go to sleep. Scares away the nightmares.”



He tilted his head, looking at her from under the brim of his cap. His dark eyes were soulful, penetrating as he studied her curled up in the booth across from him. Instead of saying something to make her feel dumb or weak, he just smiled and started talking.



Clay told her about his day, which was pretty uneventful. It turned out famous Mixed Martial Arts fighters spent 90 percent of their time doing Mixed Martial Arts…and eating.



If Melody ate half as much as Clay, she’d weigh seven hundred pounds, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was all muscle, and she allowed herself the luxury of admiring him. She studied the broad expanse of his chest and the flex of his powerful arm muscles beneath his shirt as his low voice washed over her, soothing her with the lull of his accent. She certainly chose right to hide out in a small town close to where she grew up. Hearing the sounds of her youth in everyone’s voice was nice. If she never saw a city again, it wouldn’t be too soon.



“Then Jules asked me to help out with one of the self-defense classes she teaches at the Cellar, since Wyatt was wise enough to work overtime. Said he had a domestic disturbance, but you and me know that ain’t true. He was sitting at the station screwing around on the city’s dime,” Clay said, taking another bite of his food before he gave a half laugh. “So I spent an hour getting beat on by old ladies.”



Melody smiled, letting her eyes drift closed. “Sorry I missed it.”



“I think a few of those old gals was touching me inappropriately on purpose.”



“Maybe I need to take me a self-defense class,” Melody teased.



“I got connections at the Cellar, seeing as how I own half of it,” Clay said, his voice no longer lighthearted. “You could take whatever classes ya wanted, Mel. A self-defense class ain’t a bad idea.”



Melody snorted. “If I find that much free time, the only thing I’m taking is a nap.”



“Gimme your tips; I’ll count ’em. Help ya get done early.”



“Nah,” she argued, her eyes still closed. She felt exhausted on a soul-deep level. “I still gotta get prep work done, and I gotta get your ticket rung up and—”



“Here, take this.”



Melody blinked, finding Clay’s thick, wool-lined jacket in her face. “What?”



“Take a power nap, and I’ll eat slow,” Clay suggested, jacket still pushed in her face as he held it across the table. He leaned out of the booth, scanning the near-empty restaurant. “Judy’s still got two customers. You got a few minutes to rest.”



It was a testament to how truly tired she was, because she grabbed the jacket. It smelled like Clay, warm and woodsy and masculine. She couldn’t help but bury her face in the wool lining, letting his scent comfort her. It was such an overwhelming feeling she couldn’t even think to be embarrassed. Life was too damn short, and something as soothing as Clay’s scent surrounding her had Melody falling down on the booth bench. She buried her face in the jacket, nearly smothering herself, but it didn’t matter because all the tension eased out of her.



“Don’t let me get fired,” she mumbled into the wool. “Wake me up if they come snooping.”