Tangled Hearts (Passion in Paradise) (2 page)

It wasn’t like Melody
wanted anybody to feel sorry for her.   She most certainly did NOT.  She hated
pity.  That was one of the reasons she’d decided to leave Knoxville and the
life she’d built there; she couldn’t stand the looks she’d been receiving from
all of her friends.  God, it’d been humiliating.  Especially when she’d figured
out that the majority of her so-called pals had known her fiancé was a cheating
asshole – well, those friends that hadn’t actually been schtupping her dickhead
ex behind her back.  She’d found out more than a few of her pals had been the
willing recipient of his wayward penis. 

Melody wasn’t a
completely
hopeless case.  She had her strengths and had gotten her fair share of achievements
under her belt. After her parents had been killed in a plane crash while they
were travelling back from a folk music festival where they had been the
featured duo, Melody had decided that she was going to have to find her own way
in the world.  She’d aced high school, then graduated with honors from the
University of Tennessee, attaining her Bachelors of Business Administration
with little trouble.  From there, she’d done her time in a large CPA firm, then
opened and run her own small accounting service just outside of Knoxville,
operating it successfully until she’d decided to embark on an altogether
different kind of journey.  So, really, the upside to her spur of the moment
decision to open a totally new kind of business was that she knew what it would
take to make a success of it.  Now, if only she could explain that to the
relentless voice in her head that sounded a lot like her ex-fiancé.  But that
stupid harping bastard just kept yammering on and on about how a love of books
and knitting did not an accomplished businesswoman make.

Sure, Melody was
conscious of the fact that the odds weren’t exactly stacked in her favor. 
Nobody (including the annoying voice of that rat bastard in her head) needed to
remind her how many start-up ventures failed in the first year – specifically
businesses that focused on luxury items like books, yarn, knitting needles and
crochet hooks.  She’d seen it happen, firsthand.  How much had she despised
that aspect of bookkeeping for owners of their own businesses – seeing them
invest everything they had into their dreams and standing helplessly on the
sidelines while those dreams exploded into waking nightmares?

The answer to that was
a LOT! 

Of course, these were
the kind of thoughts that she literally couldn’t afford to have.  Her store,
Hooks and Books, was going to be an unparalleled success.  It had to be.  It
might be her last chance to prove to herself that she wasn’t a complete waste
of space.  She refused to let that dick she’d been going to marry be right. 
She wasn’t running away from her problems; on the contrary, she was racing
toward a bright future.  And that future did not include any lying, cheating
assholes determined to finish shattering her already fractured heart.

“Damn you, Brad!”
Melody cursed with a frustrated growl as she thumped her fist against the
steering wheel of her car, allowing herself to feel the searing anger that
boiled just below the surface of her flesh.  All these fucking doubts she had –
every single one of them – were Bradley Weller’s fault.  Over the years that
she’d spent first being that man’s girlfriend, then being his fiancée, Brad had
somehow managed to become the one person that could make her question herself
and her choices.  He had possessed the unique ability to get inside her head
and use her own private fears against her.  Honestly, he’d become an expert at
making her feel inadequate and small.  He’d taken a perverse enjoyment in
belittling her.  Sadly, she’d not realized how much he’d gotten inside her head
until it had almost been too late.   She had thanked God every day that she’d
never actually married the asshole. 

When they’d first met,
she’d been besotted by him.  Brad’s personality had been so big… so magnetic,
that he’d held her and most everyone he came into contact with captivated.  A
venture capitalist, he was an expert at weaving a spell around his victims,
making his intended targets feel like the most important person in his world
until he no longer needed them.  She – like so many others - had been
enthralled by his handsome looks, his articulate demeanor and smooth charm.  With
his thick black hair, piercing green eyes, and runner’s body, she’d been lost
from the moment he turned his gaze her way.  When he focused that laser-like
attention on her, she’d been sucked in by his ability to appear interested in
everything about her. 

But those things that
she’d been so hypnotized by in the beginning had just been tools he used to
draw his marks toward him so that he could use them for his own selfish
purposes.  Some, he’d used for professional advancement.  Others, he’d used for
his own carnal enjoyments.  And her… well, Melody had been special.  Her, he’d
used just because he could.  During the years she’d been with him, Brad had
slowly made her into a very pretty ornament that adorned his arm when he needed
to appear as a happy family man.  She was no more than Brad’s own interactive doll
for five long years.  Of course, she hadn’t realized any of it was happening to
her
.  She hadn’t realized that she was just another pawn in his
perverted chess game until she’d seen him callously fucking her former best
friend.  Like a magic show, that unforgiveable act had lifted the veil
shrouding the true Bradley Weller from her eyes, and she’d finally seen the man
that had been hiding behind the mask.

And the things she’d learned
about that conniving, faithless fuck she’d been going to marry… well, let’s say
they were things she could never un-know.  Like a true glutton for punishment,
Melody hadn’t been satisfied with simply observing the private show she’d
gotten of Brad’s cheating.  No, she’d gone and done some investigating of her
own.  For some unexplainable reason, she’d gotten it into her head that it was
imperative she know just how many skirts Bradley had played under.  Sadly, her
ex had been a very busy boy. It seemed that while Melody had been busily debiting
and crediting her clients’ accounts, Brad the Cad had been making his own form
of deposits… into every faithless whore in town!  Her pride had taken a hell of
a hit as she’d come across woman after woman that had serviced her ex-fiancé’s
disloyal dick.  Perfect strangers and good friends alike had indulged her
bastard of an ex’s need for sex.  Questions like ‘Why hadn’t she been enough
for him?’ and ‘What did those women do with their magical vaginas that she
hadn’t been able to do for him?’ had overwhelmed her, but she’d known that
asking them out loud would only bring her more pain.  

After finding Brad with
her matron of honor, she’d almost immediately known she’d never be able to
forgive the betrayal of her trust, and she’d ended their engagement.  The more
dirt she dug up on him while she went through their life together with a fine
toothed comb, the more she understood that she’d fallen in love with a pathological
liar and serial cheater.  When she’d finally comprehended just how much of a
shitty human being Brad really was, Melody hadn’t wasted any time.  She’d
broken her engagement, flushed the three carat diamond ring, packed up the
memories of her life in the cushy condo she’d shared with the cheating prick
and hauled ass out of their gated community.  She thanked her lucky stars that
she’d actually had somewhere to go, knowing a lot of women weren’t that
fortunate.

It had been almost a
full month since she’d moved back into her late grandmother’s house back in her
hometown of Paradise, Tennessee.  She and her brother had been left joint
owners of the house and land when the old woman died, and her sibling had
readily agreed that granny’s house was the safest place for her.  Glancing at
the date on her watch, Melody couldn’t help wincing.  If her ass of a an ex had
just kept his dick in his pants instead of using it all over Knoxville, today
she would have been on her honeymoon, sipping margaritas on the white sandy
beaches of Jamaica.  According to a mutual friend she’d managed to keep in the
separation, the rumor was that Brad had taken Brandi or Tiffani or some other
trampy slut whose name ended in an –i- on the honeymoon that
she’d
meticulously
planned.  Yes, he’d just managed to reconfirm to her how big of a tactless
creep he really was.

But she’d allowed that
beast to occupy enough of her mind this morning.  It was time to shake off any
lingering doubts about her new direction in life and concentrate on the here
and the now.  She was doing this.  Her store, Hooks and Books, was going to
happen, and not only that, but it was going to be the biggest success Paradise
County had ever seen. 

Besides, it was too
late to second guess herself now.  She’d already put down a sizeable deposit on
her bookstore’s new location and paid her landlord the first three months’
rent.  She’d also already ordered a good deal of the start-up inventory she’d
need to launch her store.  Her vendors were simply waiting on her to provide a
delivery location for the merchandise.  Now that she had that, she could get
started on hiring a contractor for the minor renovations the location needed
and stocking shelves for opening day.  And that meant that any second thoughts
she had needed to take a very long vacation since all those expenses were
taking a hefty chunk out of her working capital and there was no backup plan. 
It was imperative this store be a success. 

“I’m in it to win it,”
she stated out loud before wincing, her voice loud in the small car.  Sighing,
she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling of the car.  “Great, now I’m reducing my
life to cheesy clichés.  Way to go, Melody,” she jeered.  It was definitely
past time to caffeinate her bloodstream, she thought with a look toward the
packed coffeehouse.  Worriedly looking at the time, she relaxed slightly when
she realized that that her appointment with event planner, Harmony McKinnon,
was still over two hours away.  It had been a huge stroke of good luck that
she’d seen her old friend last week in the restaurant Harmony’s family owned. 
She’d gotten to talking to the other woman and learned that her childhood pal
was now planning events around Paradise in addition to working at the I Don’t
Care Café.  In fact, based on the word of mouth around town, Harmony’s services
were a hot commodity.  Melody wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d quickly locked
in the other woman’s services for her opening day celebration at Hooks and
Books.  Harmony was working with both the Better Business Bureau and Paradise’s
Chamber of Commerce to make her store’s launch one of the biggest and best the
town had ever seen.  Today they were meeting to discuss the invitation list and
menu for the luncheon she planned on offering her customers that first day of business.

But, first, she needed
coffee, she reminded herself as she shoved open the door of her car.  Grimacing
again as she got a look at the line behind the counter, she bit back a foul
curse.  She loathed waiting in long lines.  From her vantage point, she could
see a grand total of two baristas working behind the counter and neither one
seemed to be in any great hurry to serve their customers.  Right then, Melody
made a promise to herself to always have qualified help servicing her customers
at the store. 

Shoving her hands into
the pockets of her fitted black trousers, she quickly decided to brave the
masses and join the queue of caffeine addicts waiting to get in the store for
their daily dose of java.  These hipster coffee houses weren’t exactly her scene,
but when she’d driven by Harmony’s restaurant earlier, that place had been
packed, too.  And since all she really wanted was to cure her coffee craving,
this joint would do just fine.

By the time she made it
inside the building, she’d spent a good ten minutes in the cold December air. 
Shivering, she quickly got in the shorter of the two lines leading to the
counter behind a tall, lanky teenage boy dressed from head to toe in black. 
Eyeing him warily, she had to admit his whole Goth vibe alarmed her slightly. 
Really, the kid even appeared to be wearing black lipstick.  Who did that, she
wondered, tilting her head slightly as she continued to assess the kid. 
Realizing a moment later that she was staring, she shifted her attention to the
others waiting in line and realized that the kid in front of her fit in just
fine with the crowd.  She was the one who stood out like a sore thumb in her
skinny trousers and ruffled white silk shirt.  Inhaling deeply, she forced
herself to begin counting her blessings.

“At least it smells
good in here,” she mumbled, latching on to the first good thought she had as
she breathed in the scent of freshly ground coffee beans.  As the line slowly
moved forward, she continued to people watch, looking around the small space at
her fellow coffee addicts.  Biting her lip, she was aware of one thing
immediately.  She was quite a bit older than the average customer in this
joint.  The median age appeared to be about 23.  At thirty, she felt positively
ancient standing next to most of these kids.  Everywhere she looked, there were
young men and women that seemed to be in their early twenties – or what she
liked to call the ‘young and dumb’ phase of life.  Although, who was she to
judge?  She was knocking on middle age’s door and she still hadn’t managed to
figure out her own life. 

Continuing to peruse
the crowd, she absently noted that while there were a few young professionals
dressed in suits and skirts waiting to get their go-go juice that would
jumpstart their day, most of these individuals looked like homeless shelter
rejects, each sharing what appeared to be a uniform of black, baggy, wrinkled
clothing that seemed to hang off their too thin bodies.  Shaking her head, she
wondered when exactly ‘hobo’ chic had become all the rage.