Just Dinner

Two weeks later.

The park was alive in a way Melody’s heart no longer knew how to be. Children were running wild in colorful jackets, their laughter echoing through the crisp Saturday morning air. Couples strolled hand in hand, taking in the beauty of the season. A man strummed a guitar near the fountain, playing little drummer boy. The sky was beautiful.

But Melody Hart didn’t feel any of it.

Her boots crunched slowly over the frosted path as she walked with her hands tucked into her coat pockets. Her heart felt like it was carrying brick, heavy and bruised. Two weeks in New York and still, everything felt foreign, too loud, too fast, too unfamiliar.

Two weeks since she left behind the life she built, the business she loved, and the man she thought would be her forever.

The betrayal still sat inside her like a fresh wound. She had no job. No plan. Just Tara’s kindness and a will to survive.

She hated that she needed help. She hated that she didn’t know what came next, she hated that she didn’t even recognize the sound of her own laughter anymore.

A young couple passed her the girl giggling as her partner whispered something into her ear. A ring sparkled on her finger.

Melody swallowed.

Were they engaged? Newly married? Did they know how lucky they were? or was he cheating and his lady didn't know?

A bitter ache twisted in her chest. She turned her gaze away and kept walking.

Just then, a brown dog bolted toward her. It was big, fluffy, wagging its tail. He sniffed around her shoes, circling her like she was the most interesting thing he’d encountered all morning.

“Oh, hello there,” Melody whispered, cracking the smallest, faintest smile she’d managed in days. She crouched down, her hand lifting instinctively toward his head.

“Don’t.”

The single word froze her fingers mid air.

She looked up, and nearly choked on her breath.

Not again.

Standing a few feet away, holding the dog’s leash, wearing a black wool coat and blue shirt, was him. The expensive-shirt, insult-slinging, coffee-stained stranger from the airport.

Her eyes widened. “You.”

His brows lifted with a dry, almost irritated recognition. “You.”

The dog barked once as if to say, Yep, her.

Melody pushed up to her feet awkwardly. “Look, I’m really sorry about the airport. I already apologized that day, but… again… I’m sorry.”

“Relax,” he said, sliding his gloved hand into his pocket. “It’s fine.”

This was the same man who nearly combusted when a little latte touched his shirt.

Then he added, casually:

“But I won’t lie, you did ruin one of my favorite shirts.”

Ah. There it was. Melody sighed. “I said I could pay to dry clean it.”

“I don’t want dry cleaning.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. They weren’t soft, but they weren’t angry either. They were… observant. “I want dinner.”

She batted her eyelashes, as if that would help her understand what he said better.

“Dinner?” she repeated.

“That’s the deal,” he said coolly. “You pay me back with dinner tonight.”

Melody stared at him like he’d suddenly sprouted reindeer antlers.

“No, I can’t. I barely know you. And I’m not… dating.” The last word came out strangled.

“It’s not a date,” he replied quickly. “It’s compensation.”

“For the shirt?”

“For the shirt. For my mood. For the awful airport coffee I had to settle for after you hijacked my morning.”

Melody stared, unsure if she should laugh or smack him. She was struggling both emotionally and financially, so the last thing she needed was spending money on irrelevant things like taking a stranger out for dinner, to say sorry for running one of his favourite thousands of dollar shirts.

He noticed her hesitation. His mouth tugged in the slightest smirk. “I’m paying for dinner.”

This was a terrible idea.

Her life was chaotic. She had no job, no stability, no emotional backbone at the moment. Dinner with a sharp tongued stranger? Completely unnecessary.

And yet…

The way he looked at her wasn’t flirtatious. Or pitiful. Or probing. It was curious. Like he knew she was broken but wasn’t trying to pick up the pieces.

“Fine,” Melody muttered finally. “Fine. Dinner. But just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” he confirmed.

He handed her his phone. “Number?”

She typed it reluctantly and returned the device.

He glanced at her name on the screen. “Melody.”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “Logan.”

Her heart skipped. The name hit something in her memory, but she couldn’t place it.

“Nice meeting you,” he said. “Again, thank goodness you aren't holding a cup of hot coffee.”

And with that, he tugged gently on his dog’s leash. “Let’s go, Max.”

Max barked happily and followed him, tail swaying dramatically. Melody exhaled slowly as he disappeared down the path.

What kind of man asks a stranger to dinner as compensation for a shirt?

But strangely, it was a breath of fresh air for her. She headed home, heart beating strangely fast.

Tara was in the living room eating cereal when Melody stepped in.

“You look flushed,” Tara said immediately. “Did you cry? Did someone yell at you?"

“I ran into someone,” Melody said, slipping off her coat.

“Oh no, is it Brandon? Please don’t tell me he flew to New York like a delusional lunatic that….”

“No, Tara. Worse.”

Tara’s brows shot up. “Worse than your cheating ex?”

Melody dragged a hand through her hair. “Airport guy.”

Tara froze with her spoon in the air. “The rude, shirt worshipping, insult spitting maniac?”

“That one.”

“Oh my God.” Tara’s grin spread like wildfire. “Start talking.”

Melody plopped onto the couch. “A dog ran up to me in the park. I bent to pet it, and suddenly he showed up.”

“And??”

“And he recognized me.”

“And??”

“And he said the ONLY thing that could make him feel better about his ruined shirt, was if I bought him dinner.”

Tara gasped dramatically. “Ain't no way on Trump's earth I'm going to be paying for a guy's dinner.”

“I’m not paying.”

“Of course you're not. You don't even need to meet up with the hungry guy.”

Melody groaned. “Tara, please.”

“So this is happening tonight?”

“Apparently. Yes.”

Tara slapped her hands together. “Let’s get you all glammed up for your first date here in the city.”

“Tara!”

“Nope, get up. We are not letting you go to dinner looking like heartbreak and trauma.” Tara marched into her room. “It’s Christmas girl.”

“It is?” She asked, facing her friend now. “I obviously don't care.”

Tara laughed.

“I can’t just… jump into dressing up for some random man.”

“Girl, just shut up and get into that nice, shape snatching dress and show, expensive shirt guy how much of a bad ass you are.”

“Fine.” She raised her hand in defeat.