Beauty & the Biker (15 page)

She massaged her pounding heart, trying not to read into his obvious concern, and failing. He cared and he was anxious to see her.

Smiling, she texted:
Seeing fave band then quilt show then catching ride 2 u. ETA 5pm.

Bolstering her shoulders, she refrained from adding anything mushy. Instead, she signed off and visually donned her armor. Deflecting her woes in order to focus on someone else’s troubles was a relief and, whoa, wow, an adrenaline rush.

Angel leaned in. “You look sort of…fierce. Dare I ask what you’re thinking about?”

“Riding to Savage’s rescue.”

Chapter Twelve

Burning up miles did nothing to cool Joe’s angst. He had, however, shifted gears. Instead of wallowing in the ugliness of his last case, he’d obsessed on Bella’s selfie and her initial text.

Join us, please
.

That’s how he’d absorbed her words only that wasn’t what she’d typed.

She’d typed:
Join us. Please.

The period between
us
and
Please
ate at him like an elusive clue to a crime. Something was off and he’d missed it. She’d been smiling in the photo but that didn’t mean she was happy. One thing he’d learned, after spending three concentrated hours with Bella, is that she glossed over the bad stuff. Instead of bitching or moaning, she went out of her way to find good in every situation.

And every person.

Like Carson Anderson.

The man she’d broken off with, although she said he refused to call it quits. A man her father referred to as territorial where Bella was concerned. Joe hadn’t met the dealership owner, but he’d seen him on a slick commercial hawking his auto “family” and their mission to match every customer with their perfect vehicle. He’d also heard talk at Desi’s regarding Carson’s charm and generosity. Of course, he had charm. He was a damned salesman. He was also, according to Tank, an arrogant sonuvabitch.

“
He swears he’s the best thing that ever happened to me,”
Bella had said.
“Says he won’t let me screw that up. Most people find that endearing, but they don’t know him like I do. This isn’t about me or us. It’s about him.
”

Was her persistent ex at the festival? Was he hassling her? Manipulating her? Was she trying to avoid him and failing? Was she asking Joe to step in, to act as a buffer or deterrent?

He’d dealt with enough abused and hassled women to know not everyone asked outright for help. Sometimes you had to read between the lines…or expressions.

Then again, maybe he was looking for an excuse to race to her rescue. Bella stoked his protective streak. Was he imagining trouble or was trouble brewing? He pulled onto the shoulder of road, texted.

u ok
?

She responded quickly and calmly and all Joe felt was damned angst. Distracted he’d made a U-turn and roared back to Funland. Five o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

He rolled through the gate just as Mooney rolled out.

“I barely made a dent in Funland,” Archie said, “but Carson called and… I have to go. He’s going to propose to Bella.”

“Wait,” Joe said. “What?”

“He wanted to do it in a swell and special way,” Archie said with a proud smile. “She’s a fan of the Country Cougars—”

“Who?”

“A bluegrass band,” Archie said. “They’re appearing at the festival and Carson arranged to join them on stage. He’s going to make a big show out of proposing to her over the speaker system while her favorite band plays a song just for her. Said something about doves and fireworks, too. Bella’s a romantic sort and Carson’s going to sweep her off her feet in front of God and Nowhere. I can’t wait to see her face!”

“She’ll be mortified.”

The older man frowned. “What?”

“Bella doesn’t love Anderson.”

“They’ve been seeing each other ever since my wife…” He blew out a breath. “It’s been several months now.”

“She broke off with him.”

“She told me they had a falling out. Carson’s been sending her flowers and candy and… I thought they were on the mend. Carson told me—”

“Carson’s in the business of shoveling bullshit. He tells people what they want to hear, gains their trusts…” Joe broke off, shook his head. “I don’t suppose she told you about the times he tried to sway her opinions and ambitions to suit his own.” He burned just thinking about the few instances she’d shared, although she’d been mindful not to speak ill of the slick bastard.

“She never…I didn’t…” Mooney rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess she didn’t want to add to my worries. Damn.”

“Look. I haven’t met the guy,” Joe went on, “but I’ve picked up enough gossip and knowledge over the last few weeks to form an opinion. Anderson’s a manipulator. He’s going to put Bella on the spot in front of a lot of people. And because she’s kind—”

“She won’t want to hurt his feelings,” Archie said. “She won’t know how to refuse him without making a scene. Bella hates confrontation. Oh, cripes,” the man complained, shifting from thrilled to panicked. “I have to warn her.”

Idling side-by-side—Mooney on the mower, Joe on his bike—the two men palmed their phones at the same time.

“Low signal,” Mooney said.

“No signal,” Joe said.

“Happens sometimes. Reception out here wafts. Gotta land line?”

“No. Stay here.” Joe peeled out and into the barn, grabbed a spare helmet, zipped back to the gate and tossed Mooney the brain bucket. “Climb on. You keep trying Bella. I’ll burn rubber.”

* * *

“If we want good seats,” Angel said, “we need to start floating toward the main stage. The Cougars really pack them in.”

“I wish you’d change your mind,” Bella said to Chrissy. “Emma’s right. Melody would enjoy the visual aspect. And you’d enjoy—”

“No. I wouldn’t.” Chrissy hugged her daughter close then forced a smile. “Besides Mel and I promised to put in an hour or so at the Yarn Barn booth. Since Suzy took some of my pieces on consignment, seems only fair to relieve her for a while.”

“I won’t point out that you could’ve volunteered an hour before or after the Country Cougar concert,” Emma said.

“Right. Because you’re never blunt,” Chrissy said with an eye roll.

Just then everyone’s phone went off. Everyone’s but Bella’s. She shifted, feeling absurdly left out as the Inseparables—minus one—read a text.

“What do you think this is about?” Georgie asked no one in particular.

“Not a clue,” Angel said.

“I foresee something really spectacular,” Emma said, with a fleeting glance at Bella, “or really awkward.”

“Guess I’m going to the concert,” Chrissy said.

If her cousin was willing to withstand an up close encounter with some of the best bluegrass in the Midwest then whatever this was, was huge.

Prepare 2 B dazzled
.

“Oh, no,” Bella said, feeling lightheaded. “What’s Carson up to?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy said, “but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Do you ever have a good feeling where a man is concerned?” Angel asked. “Maybe it has something to do with the library. Everyone knows about the budget cuts and Carson’s a generous man.”

“Would someone please share his text?” Bella asked but then her own phone rang. She answered expecting Carson, but instead heard her dad.

“Finally got you,” he said. “Thank goodness!”

Bella froze. “What’s wrong? Why are you shouting? Where are you?”

“Almost there.”

“Where?”

“The festival. Where are you?”

Bella glanced at her friends—all wide-eyed, including little Mel. Her heart pounded as she relayed her location. “We’re heading for the main stage.”

“No! Stay where you are. We’re almost there.”

“Who’s we?”

He disconnected and Bella gawked at her phone. What the—

“Oh, wow,” Georgie said.

“Holy smokes,” Angel added.

Bella jerked out of her confused fog. Looking up, she saw what her friends were looking at. Savage serpentining his motorcycle through a sea of people. She wasn’t sure what snagged everyone’s curiosity more. The presence of Nowhere’s newest and most mysterious resident or the homegrown former postman seated behind him. Her imagination flared and instead of seeing an ominous black motorcycle, she envisioned a valiant white steed with, not one, but, two champions riding to her rescue.

The sights and sounds of the festival blurred as Bella’s mental fairy tale roared into her real life.

Savage rolled to a stop directly in front of the Inseparables. He was wearing his don’t-mess-with-me shades, but she could feel his gaze burning into hers—calm but fierce. Her dad scrambled off the back of the bike—not so calm. He was dressed in his normal fare—jeans and a plaid shirt—only he’d pulled a hard black helmet over his soft red ball cap.

“Thank God I caught you,” Archie said, coming toe-to-toe.

Bella swallowed, thrown off by her dad’s intensity. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Savage taking off his helmet and draping the chin strap over the handle bar. He, too, was dressed in what she assumed was his normal fare—faded jeans, a torso hugging tee, sexy biker boots. His longish dark hair was mussed, though today he’d shaved close—no stubble. Even so, he looked formidable and mysterious and so drop-dead gorgeous her insides squished.

“Carson called me,” Archie said in a low voice. “He wanted me in on the surprise. Only after talking to Savage, I don’t think you’ll appreciate what he has in store.” He gripped Bella’s elbows. “Why didn’t you tell me about Carson’s manipulative streak?”

“I…I…”

“Did he really suggest abandoning your story writing in favor of writing advertising jingles for his business?”

Bella blushed, wondering why she’d babbled so much to Savage the night before, wondering how much he’d told her dad and why. “You know Carson, Dad. He’s highly motivated and…practical. That’s why he’s so successful.”

“Success isn’t everything. Happiness is everything. Does Carson make you happy?”

“No.” Bella swallowed hard, unwilling to lie to her dad or her friends, yet loathe to cast stones. She’d played a bigger part in this fiasco than she cared to admit. Especially in a public setting where anyone could overhear. “But it’s not entirely his fault. I never should have taken up with him in the first place, but he…he…”

“Told you things you wanted to hear?” her dad prompted. “Gained your trust?”

“Then what?” Chrissy asked. “Tried to sell you on something you weren’t sure of? Did he finesse you into sleeping with him?”

Bella slapped a hand to her forehead. “For the love of—”

“If Carson behaved like a jerk,” Angel said, “why didn’t you confide in us?”

Actually she had. Sort of. She’d confided in Sinjun. A long-distance Inseparable, but a trusted friend all the same. One night they’d been chatting and before Bella knew it she’d shared her apprehensions regarding Carson and their future. As always, Sinjun had been a calm and guiding force. Since that conversation hadn’t been planned, at the time it hadn’t felt like a dis to the other Inseparables. Now it sort of did. “I, um…”

“When has Bella ever trashed talked anyone?” Emma asked.

“Commendable,” Chrissy said, “but if you want Carson to go away, you’ll have to talk tough. I don’t know if he’s too thick, too arrogant, or too wrapped up in you to let go, but this…” She waggled her phone containing Carson’s mysterious text. “Is a bad sign.”

“Essentially, he’s a good man,” Bella said, blushing under Savage’s silent regard. “But he’s not the right man for me.”

“That settles it,” Archie said. He squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t go to the Cougar concert, Peaches.”

“Why not?”

“Carson’s going to pop the question. On stage. While the band serenades you. He’s arranged a dazzling to-do.”

“Really spectacular or really awkward,” Emma repeated while Georgie whistled low.

Bella realized suddenly that her friends were huddled around her in a protective circle. Her insides twisted with a queer mix of dread and resentment. “Is that what Carson said in his text?”

“He wasn’t specific,” Angel said.

“Just said he had something special planned and asked us to make sure you were seated up close at the concert,” Chrissy said.

“How could he do this?” Bella asked. “Knowing how I feel? I don’t love him. I don’t—”

“I’ll run over and head him off,” Archie said. “Then I’ll have a talk with him.”

“No. Thank you, Dad. But it needs to be me.” Her stomach churned just thinking about the one-on-one showdown, but it was far better than withstanding public humiliation. She couldn’t, wouldn’t accept his proposal and she saw this “dazzling to-do” for what it was. A grand manipulation.

“We’ll go with you,” Chrissy said. “We’ll… Where’s Melody? Oh, shit.”

They all whirled as the petite girl reached for the vibrant painting on Savage’s fuel tank.

He gently caught her hand and shook his head, no. “Hot.”

Chrissy rushed forward and pulled her daughter a safe distance away—from the bike, and from Savage.