Only one problem with that: Melanie didn’t want temporary with Carter.
She wanted forever.
Melanie tossed her keys onto the counter and sat down at the small kitchen table.
Her dad’s snores drifted in from the living room, along with the evening news. Louis had passed out in the recliner, a couple of beer cans on the table beside him.
“Only two tonight? Must’ve been a good day,” she said, taking off her shoes and messaging her aching feet. Then she stood and shuffled to the recliner, grabbing the remote and clicking off the television.
Ever since her momma had died from breast cancer, Melanie had been raised by her dad. Although some might argue she was using that term loosely. Louis had let her run hog-wild and fancy free, until a well-meaning (nosy as heck) woman had taken an eight year old Melanie under her wing one summer during Vacation Bible School.
It hadn’t helped, but Melanie did get a best friend out of it: Zoe Ambrose.
Louis muttered something in his sleep and Melanie smiled. She snagged an orange and brown afghan from the sofa and covered him with it, brushing back his grey hair. “Sleep tight.”
“Raylene?”
Melanie froze, her heart pounding in her chest. There was only one Raylene in Holland Springs and she was married. Worse, she was married to Carter and Zoe’s uncle, who just so happen to be their momma’s favorite brother. “No, it’s Melanie.” She knew her daddy had been doing some odd jobs around Raylene and John’s house. And she pleaded with God that Raylene wasn’t one of those jobs.
Louis shifted in the recliner, his brown eyes blinking open. “Hey, sugar. How was work?”
“Fine.” She stared at her father for a moment, then said, “Are you messing around with Raylene Alfred?”
“Don’t see how that’s any of your business, young lady,” he said and her heart plummeted to her toes. Any time he called her young lady, he was lying to her or trying to justify himself. “My private life is private.”
“Not around here it’s isn’t.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Everyone knows how you like messing around with married women. Love ‘em and leave their marriages in shambles.”
“It’s different this time.”
“You say that every time!” She held up her hands. “I don’t care if you think you’re in—”
“We are in love. Besides, John doesn’t treat her right and she’s miserable,” Louis countered, sitting up in the recliner and pushing the bottom half down.
“If she’s not happy with John, then she needs to leave him before y’all make a go of it. I’m getting tired of having to defend you and your affairs.” She really was, but she wouldn’t stop sticking up for her dad. Louis was the only family she had and she loved him.
“Who’s saying she’s not leaving him?” Louis said as he stood. “Who’s to say that Raylene and I don’t have plans?”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. We—”
She shook her head, moving toward her room. “I don’t want to know about your plans. But for once in your life, can you think about the consequences?”
How many times had they been through this before? Louis Smith fell in and out of love like a thirteen year old girl. He always had plans, always knew that his latest was The One, and he was The One to save her from her loveless marriage.
Yet another reason why she needed to get her own place. Not knowing for a fact what her daddy was up to would take a lot of stress off of her.
Shutting the door behind her, she dug into the front pockets of her apron and started straightening and laying out her tips on her dresser. Sixty bucks wasn’t too bad for a slow Monday night.
Biting the side of her lip, she considered the two jars in front of her. One labeled Trip Money and the other, House Money. One day she would have a home that didn’t have wheels, that she couldn’t be evicted from and a bed that was actually hers.
Most people thought she was flighty, unable to hold down a job or even finish college. But she had a plan and had been pre-approved for a loan. And it was all documented on her ancient computer. Still, she couldn’t in good conscience buy that tiny cottage on three acres without some savings in the bank or a five thousand dollar down payment.
Plus, she wanted to travel, to see the world outside of Holland Springs. Her life so far had consisted of a hundred-mile radius. Pretty boring and pathetic.
So, the sensible thing to do would be to split the tips eighty-twenty in favor of the House Money Jar. But sometimes a girl needed a little excitement.
Smiling, she opened the Trip Money jar and put all but ten dollars in it.
Just as she put both lids back on, there was a knock at her door. “Sugar, can you spot me some money for the rent? I promise to settle up with you on Friday.”
“I gave you my half last week,” she said, opening her door. “Right before you went down to Biloxi with...”
Her dad looked away, his hand running through his hair.
She sagged against the door frame and placed her palm across her forehead. “You couldn’t stay away, could you?”
“I thought I could make things easier on us.”
“By gambling away our rent money?” Tears pricked at the back of her throat as she walked to her dresser and opened up her House Money Jar. “How much?”
“Nine hundred,” he mumbled. “Rent’s twelve.”
“What!” The lid slipped from her grasp, falling to the floor. It landed on the carpet with a thud. Digging through the jar, she pulled out her money and counted out the amount he needed. Her heart pinched at the sight of a month’s worth of tips from her House Jar. Who knew if she’d ever get it back? Louis wasn’t exactly a stickler for keeping his word. And settling up on Friday could mean this Friday or twenty Fridays from now.
“Wait a minute.” She turned to face him. “You told me my half was three.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still your dad.” He walked inside her room and picked up the lid, then set it back on the jar. “Knew you’ve been trying to save up and all.”
All the self-righteous anger she’d let build up fled her body. She hugged her dad tight. “Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head affectionately. “No need to thank me.” Then he stepped back and took her money, shoving it in his pants pocket. “Why don’t you keep that in a bank?”
“I do.” She smiled and untied her apron. “I just like to make big deposits with lots of singles and fives. Makes all those stuffy ladies’ eyes get real big.”
“I bet.”
“Especially when I tell them that, despite the down economy, lap dances are still high in demand. In fact it’s my patriotic duty to go down to Jacksonville and make those poor Marines feel better,” she teased.
Louis groaned. “That’s not how I want people to think of my daughter.”
“But I thought that’s how you met momma,” Melanie reminded him.
“She was a cocktail waitress. Big difference in skill set and clothing choices.”
“I don’t do that, you know.”
“Greatly relieved to hear it.”
“But I did get a job as Carter Ambrose’s assistant.”
Her dad raised his brows. “You sure that’s a wise thing? I know you’ve always been sweet on him, but—”
“But nothing.” Melanie lifted her chin. “Aren’t you ready for me to move out?”
“Not really.”
“Dad!”
He chuckled. “Yes, I want you to move out and find a nice guy who’ll treat you right. Not like your last two boyfriends.”
She tossed her apron on her bed. “Don’t remind me of those disasters.” However, those two disasters were a positive reminder that she hadn’t sat around mooning over Carter Ambrose. She’d gone on with her life, especially after he’d gotten engaged, and had fun. Now the timing was perfect. Neither of them were in a relationship (that she knew about anyway). It was up to her to make the most of it, maybe even make him fall in love with her.
“Never been so happy in my life when you broke things off with Trent. Heard he’s in prison now, for grand theft auto and assaulting an officer.” Louis rapped his knuckled again the door. “Guess I’ll turn in, sugar. I’m repairing the front and back porches at Rayl”—Melanie narrowed her eyes at him.—“Mrs. Alfred’s house tomorrow.”
There was nothing she could do to stop Louis. He was a grown man. So she had two choices: Stay mad at him. Or love him no matter what. “Night, daddy. Don’t stay too late tomorrow. I’m cooking supper.”
“No, tomorrow’s my turn. See you in the morning.” Louis walked out of her room, shutting the door softly behind him.
With a sigh, she moved to her dresser and began to undress. She needed a shower, else her bed would smell like Jack’s Fine Italian Dining. Plus she needed to look her best tomorrow.
Carter had to stop viewing her as a kid. She rolled her eyes as she thought about his you’re not much older comment.
She might be three years younger than him, but she knew men. Knew what they liked and didn’t like. And she’d known Carter since she was eight, and for dang sure, she knew what he liked: boobs and butts. Both of which she had. Okay so she might have more butt than boobs, but none of her ex-boyfriends had complained.
It was time to bring out the big guns.
Searching through her top drawer, she pulled out the laciest push-up bra she owned and smiled.
Chapter Three
Carter frowned as Melanie walked into his office. It was either that or let his jaw drop to the floor. She was dressed in the sexiest do-me-I’m-the-naughty-secretary outfit he’d ever seen. She had always dressed in themes to match wherever she was going. Hell, it had been something he thought was kind of cute. Until today.
“Morning, Sunshine,” she said with a big smile. She tapped a black pen against the top of her clipboard, drawing his eyes to the deep vee of her shirt.
He blinked. Her breasts were about to spill out of it.
God help him.
Her smile wobbled a little, then she pressed her shoulders back and said, “Need some coffee to start off your day? If you show me where the coffee pot—Oh, there it is.” She sashayed over to the coffee maker on the file cabinet, black stiletto heels clicking on the floor.
Jesus. His weakness. There was something about a woman wearing heels so high that it pushed out her ass and breasts. So high that it made a woman look delicate and needy. Ready for a man to catch and do very dirty things to her.
She kicked up one foot as she reached for the mugs hanging on hooks above her. The black, narrow skirt she wore rode up her thighs.
“Stockings and garters? Ah, fuck me,” he muttered to himself and bit his knuckle, willing his very inconvenient erection away while she chatted on, mercifully oblivious. Damn, but he was a sick son of a bitch. He shouldn’t be lusting after anyone who worked for him, least of all Melanie.
Shooting to his feet, he grabbed his coat and held it in front of him. “I have to go. Errands to run.”
Melanie turned to face him, a little frown on her pouty lips. Lips so pouty that he wanted to bite the bottom and—
“But that’s what an assistant is for.”
“Not wearing that get-up you’re not.” No way in hell he’d send her to Frank’s. Not because the boys over there would do anything to her, but because they were boys and didn’t know how to talk to a woman. And he didn’t relish the notion of having to beat anyone’s ass for being disrespectful. Old fashioned—maybe, but he didn’t give a shit.
“You don’t like, I mean, it’s not appropriate for what I’ll be doing for you?” she asked, slowly smoothing her blouse down and then her skirt. “I could go home real quick and change.”
He wanted to groan at the images that formed in his head. Her outfit was very, very appropriate for what he wanted her to be doing for him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of her straddling his lap, her skirt at her waist and his cock buried balls deep inside her wet heat, while he sat in his office chair with his face in her breasts.
Son of a bitch. He had to think of something else. Grasping at straws, he asked, “Do you really need this job?”
The light in her pretty brown eyes faded. “Yes, especially after—never mind.” She turned away, but not before he saw tears welling.
Crossing the distance between them, he put his hand on her elbow and turned her to face him. “Louis gambled his money away.” Everyone knew about her dad’s gambling. And when Louis Smith got a wild hair to bet it all, he usually lost his shirt. Usually Melanie had to find a way to pick up the pieces.
Her lower lip trembled as she nodded. “I gave him almost all of my money from my House Jar…to pay the rent.”
Ah, hell. “How often does he ask for your help?”
She lifted her chin. Damn, Louis did not deserve the excuse she was getting ready to make for him. “Not that often. Just every couple months or so.”
Carter let go of her elbow and rubbed the bridge of his nose, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. Someone needed to take Louis in hand, because Carter knew every couple months or so actually mean every other month. At that rate, Melanie would never move out of her dad’s place.
“Please don’t tell anyone, especially not Zoe. You know how she is and I can’t take any money from her.”
Why she trusted him with this, he had no idea. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. About three years ago, he’d found her sitting along the side of the road with two suitcases and a huge bag slung over her shoulders.