Page 41 of The Perfect Melody

“Emerald.”

“What?”

Shit, I said my inside thought out loud. Oh well. What’s the saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? “Your eyes, they’re emerald-green.”

The eyes in question stare into mine for several heartbeats.

“Cassie.” Nobody has ever made my name sound like an admonishment and a plea for mercy all at once before. The sound reverberates through him, making me realise my hands are still looped behind his neck.

I drop my arms so quickly that I lose my balance. For a second I’m sure I’m about to topple over, but then Austin’s hands are there, steadying me. His lips twitch but he doesn’t comment on my accidental clinginess or how weird I’m being.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Austin takes my hand, then leads me from the office back into the noisy bar to find his friends. I try to ignore how nice it feels, having my hand cradled in his, but I don’t succeed. Instead, I wish it were Austin taking me home.

* * *

Reggie and Francis are more than happy to give me a ride. When Austin led me over here, it quickly became clear they’d only lingered at their table for so long to make sure I was OK after he ran out to check on me. I’m touched by their kindness but also embarrassed.

The couple put on their coats, reassuring me they don’t mind dropping me back at the B&B. Reggie, the more vocal of the two, hands me an umbrella, joking that if I spend any longer in the rain, I might dissolve. His husband sighs with equal parts affection and the kind of weary resignation introverts often feel around boisterous extroverts. Austin bristles at the joke but relaxes when I laughed it off.

I follow them across the parking lot, listening to their chatter, then slide into the back of their sedan. Apparently, Francis, a reedy, chalk-pale man with glasses similar to my own, teaches at the local primary school. While he pulls out of the Bowman’s parking lot, his husband, Reggie, immediately cranks up the heating, claiming that if I shiver any more, I’ll likely vibrate right out of the car. With his stocky, muscular build, and confident charm, on the surface Reggie seems to be the opposite of his husband, but, even after only a few minutes in their company,it’s easy to see that they balance each other out like two sides of the same coin.

Despite barely knowing Reggie and Francis, I struggle to keep my eyes open now that I’m tucked in the cosy back of their car. At least the drive to The Dragonfly will only take a few minutes. After this, I can sleep all I want. Until then, I should make an effort to talk to the couple, especially considering they’re doing me a favour.

“Thanks again for driving me.”

“It’s no problem. We’re only sorry you’re having such a rough night,” Francis replies earnestly.

“Still. I’m sorry for interrupting your date night.”

Reggie chuckles. “Relax. Date night was done. We’re still going to go home and watch old episodes of Bake Off. Besides, this is our chance to be nosy. Austin hasn’t showed interest in someone for ages.”

“Reg, leave her alone. She doesn’t need you grilling her right now.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Excellent.” Reggie cranes his neck to look back at me from the passenger seat. “So, where are you from? Austin said you’re from Nashville, but you sound English—mostly.”

I spend the next few minutes answering every question Reggie can think to pepper me with before Francis pulls up in front of the B&B. Usually the drive wouldn’t have taken even that long, but the rain is still falling in heavy sheets, meaning visibility’s poor. I appreciate Francis being such a conscientious driver, even if it has delayed me getting into bed.

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your night,” I tell them, opening the car door with a shaky hand.

“I’ll walk you in,” Reggie offers, pulling up the hood of his waterproof coat and hopping out of the car before I can assure him it’s not necessary.

Luckily The Dragonfly has a covered porch so I can fish out my key for the exterior door without getting completely soaked for the second time in one night. Reggie waits patiently at my side, chattering away about the work he did at Bowman’s for the refurbishment—apparently he’s an electrician.

“Found them,” I announce with relief, jangling my keys in celebration. They’d fallen from the inner pocket where I usually keep them and into the main section of my bag. I go to unlock the door, but between my exhaustion and the cold, I can’t stop shaking long enough to get the damn key in the lock.

“May I?” Reggie offers, holding out his hand. I drop the keys into his palm, and he makes quick work of unlocking the door. “You’ll want to go straight to sleep but make sure you drink some water and eat something sweet first. A warm shower would probably be a good idea too if you think you can manage it. If not, at least change into something dry.”

“Believe it or not, this was dry, but my hair dripped all over it,” I reply, tugging at Austin’s flannel shirt.

“Water and sugar.”

“I know the drill but thank you—you and Francis.”

He gives me a jaunty little wave before tugging his hood up again and running back to the car.

The Dragonfly is warm inside, and for a moment I’m tempted to curl up in one of the plush armchairs in the common area rather than tackle the staircase up to my room. Fortunately, there’s just enough awareness left in me to remember the many reasons that would be a bad idea. Holding onto the handrail for dear life, I climb the stairs one exhausting step at a time.