Belle eyed the hat with what she was sure looked a bit like disdain—because it was. She had never worn one in her life, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to start now. Instead, she flipped down the visor and peered at her reflection in the mirror. And conceded defeat.
With a sigh, she held out her hand, and when Mitch gave her the cap, Belle hoped she sounded sincere when she said, “Thank you.”
“Say it like you mean it, Princess,” Mitch said, laughter in his voice.
So clearly the sincerity hadn’t been as apparent as she’d hoped it would be. And Princess? Other guys had tried the nickname out on her before, and she’d been quick to set them straight. Why she wasn’t doing the same with Mitch, she had no idea. Maybe she just didn’t want to upset the person who was in charge of helping her out.
But if he wanted a princess, she’d give him a princess.
“My lifestyle doesn’t support the use of ball caps,” Belle informed him, interjecting just a bit of a haughty lilt into her voice. It was a tone she and her sisters had often used with each other growing up, each of them attempting to out-princess the others. It was always a toss-up if it would be her or Ariel who would win.
“Then I would suggest you change your lifestyle. Everyone should have a reason to wear a ball cap.” Mitch pulled away from the curb. “So, hot dogs or nah?”
“Well, I guess if I’ve incorporated ball caps into my life now,” Belle said as she pulled on the cap, “I’ll just dive all the way in and go for a hotdog.”
“That’s how to do it, Princess. We’ll have you down here with all us commoners in no time.” Mitch gave her a quick grin before turning onto Main Street.
Belle hoped that he didn’t really think she considered herself above him or anyone else. The fact that she’d showed up to get sweaty and dirty should have shown him that.
“Do you want to get out and find a place to sit while we eat?” Mitch asked as he pulled into a metered parking spot.
There were food trucks and carts along the street and sidewalks, as well as several benches and other places to sit. She had been by the area when it had been far busier, but they were there a little past the usual lunchtime rush. “We can sit here, I guess.”
And hope that no one who knew her recognized her in her current state. The ballcap would no doubt help hide her identity. Mitch jumped out and came around to open the door while she adjusted the cap on her head. Once she had slid out of the truck onto the sidewalk, Mitch closed the door and then headed to the parking meter.
After he’d taken care of that, they walked down the sidewalk, pausing by each food truck to discuss whether their food offering was what they wanted. In the end, Belle decided to indulge herself, so she ordered a hotdog and poutine. After the work she’d done that morning, she figured it was allowed.
With Mitch carrying their food and Belle with a drink in each hand, they walked to a nearby bench and sat down. Mitch set the food down on the bench between them, then asked, “Do you mind if I say grace for the food?”
“No. Of course not,” Belle said and then bowed her head as he said a quick prayer for their food. As she listened to him pray, Belle felt a keen sense of rightness. That the decision she’d made to go with Mitch and his family business was a good one.
Once he’d finished praying, Mitch picked up his drink and took a sip through the straw. Belle lifted hers for a drink as well, resisting the urge to suck back the whole thing. Suddenly, something to drink seemed even more important than something to eat—even if it was French fries and white cheese curds smothered in gravy.
Once her thirst had been satisfied, Belle picked up the container with the poutine and took a bite, just barely able to keep from moaning her appreciation of the flavors. She needed to indulge more often. Or maybe not.
“Taste okay?” Mitch asked. “They claim their poutine is the best, but you know…sometimes it’s a matter of taste.”
“It’s really good. I don’t eat it often so when I do indulge, I’m glad it’s tasty.”
“Belle?”
The voice sent chills chased by fear down her spine. Belle froze, not turning to see who it was since she already knew. She wondered if she could just get away with ignoring him. When she glanced at Mitch, she found him watching her with an expectant look on his face.
“Belle.” His voice held an edge of annoyance at her lack of reaction
As anxiety caused a knot to form in her stomach, Belle looked over to find Andre Moreau standing just feet away from her, looking as handsome as ever in a slate gray suit. His hair was grayer than she remembered, but it was still professionally styled. She took shallow breaths as she tried to maintain her composure. It had been over a year since she’d last seen him, which certainly wasn’t long enough.
“My dear, I didn’t think I’d run into you here. Eating this type of food.” She heard the derision in his tone and saw it on his face. “Maybe you should be keeping better company.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the food or the company,” Belle told him, struggling to keep other words from spilling out along with those.
Mitch got to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m Mitchell Callaghan. And you are?”
For a moment, Belle thought Andre would ignore Mitch’s hand, but then he reached out and gave it a quick shake. “Andre Moreau. Belle’s significant other.”
That brought Belle to her feet. “My ex. We haven’t been together for five years, Andre. And that’s never going to change.”
“That’s because you’re operating under the delusion that you’re better off without me.” Andre’s gaze drifted from her head down to her feet. “I’ve definitely seen you looking better.”
Old familiar feelings surged to the surface, threatening to drown all the confidence and self-assurance she’d struggled to embrace since realizing she had to leave Andre or lose herself forever. Emotions wove a tight fist around her lungs, making it hard to formulate a response.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with how she looks,” Mitch said, his tone hard. “It reveals more about you that you would say such a thing to a woman. And if she says she has moved on from you, I would suggest you move on from her.”
Andre’s features tightened in a familiar expression of anger. Belle had seen it far too often during their time together, and she hated that just five minutes in his presence had fear and anxiety coming to life within her once again.
“She’ll never be yours,” Andre mocked. “You might think she will be, but you’d be wrong.”
When Mitch took a step in Andre’s direction, Belle reached out to grab onto Mitch’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
Andre smirked at them then spun around and walked away.
Mitch turned and placed a hand on her back, putting himself between her and Andre’s retreating form. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Belle lifted a hand and stepped away from Mitch. “Apologies to your significant other for not correcting Andre’s assumption.”
“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have a significant other at the moment.”
Belle sank down on the bench again and picked up her drink. Her mouth had gone completely dry from the encounter, and her appetite had fled.
As if realizing that, Mitch began to pack up their meal. “Why don’t we head back to the building?”
Belle nodded, needing to get back to her car so she could head home. She was grateful that Mitch didn’t press the issue as he drove them back. It was only when he had parked the truck but made no move to get out that he said something.
“Are you safe?” he asked.
“What?”
“Is that guy dangerous?”
“Not physically. Or at least he hasn’t been toward me. I haven’t seen him in over a year.” She paused. “He does send or deliver flowers to the boutique every single week though.”
“Would what happened today escalate things?”
“I don’t know,” Belle said as she stared out
the front windshield of the truck. “I’m not sure he really wants me back—at least not as his girlfriend. I think he just wants to remind me that he’s still out there. Pretty sure he hasn’t been without a girlfriend for these past few years. That isn’t how he works. He needs someone to keep under his thumb, and since I left, I’m sure he’s found someone else.”
“How long were you with him?” Mitch asked.
Belle looked down at her hands, clenching them together in her lap, aware that her answer would make her appear weak. “Too long. I stayed much longer than I should have, but he’d managed to convince me that I was better off with him.” Her stomach knotted. “And I believed him.”
There was silence for a few minutes before Mitch spoke again. “I’m glad you found the strength to get away from him. And even though I don’t know what exactly he said to you while you were together, I can tell you that none of it was true. And none of what he said earlier today was true either.”
Belle heard the ring of truth in Mitch’s voice, and the knot in her stomach loosened a bit. She just wished she could travel back in time and tell her nineteen-year-old self to not be entranced by the thirty-year-old man who showered her with flowers and compliments and all the romantic things that women generally long for. Things that she’d thought she wanted. He had swept her off her feet, promising her things that made her feel loved and cherished. Important. He had reeled her in as surely as a fisherman reels in a big catch.
“I need to go,” Belle said as she reached for the door handle.
Mitch’s hand on her arm stopped her, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “If it turns out that Moreau does get back in contact with you or tries to threaten you in any way, make sure you call the police.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, seeing concern on his face once again. “I don’t think he’ll bother me, but if it comes to that, I’ll contact them.”
He squeezed her arm gently then let go. “Take care of yourself, Princess. Call me if you need to talk or if you need anything. And you’re welcome to come to the building at any time, just be sure to bring your hard hat.”
“I will. Thanks for lunch.” She gave him a quick smile before opening the door and sliding out of the truck to the sidewalk.
Before Mitch could say anything further, she closed the truck door and headed for her car. She didn’t hesitate to get behind the wheel and pull away from the curb. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, she tried to focus on the traffic even as her thoughts remained on the encounter with Andre.
Looking back, she still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to fall for his tricks. For his mind games. It was like she had more of her mother in her than she’d realized. It had taken far too long, but when she’d finally come to her senses, she had resolved to never again fall for pretty words and romantic gestures. The number that Andre had done on her had helped to build the walls she now reinforced on a daily basis.
And even though she found Mitch Callaghan interesting, he wasn’t the man for her. In fact, there was no man for her. She had her life organized in such a way that she didn’t need anyone else to be a part of it in order for her to feel complete.
CHAPTER NINE
Mitch battled anger for the rest of the afternoon. That and a desire to track down Andre Moreau to show him exactly how he shouldn’t treat a woman. Looking at Belle now, Mitch had a hard time imagining her being manipulated in that way.
After hearing about the kind of relationship she had come out of with Andre, Mitch realized that she would likely be skittish when it came to getting involved with any other man. Even knowing that and what it would probably mean for him, he found that he admired her all the more considering what she’d gone through. It took strength to escape a relationship of that sort. To find the will to resist the manipulations of a man bent on controlling her.
“How’s it going, Mark?” Mitch asked as he spotted the man in a section of the building they’d been working on earlier.
It looked like they’d made a lot of progress. Men walked past him, pushing small wheeled bins that contained the debris they had already pulled from the walls. It was good to see progress being made. Taking this on along with all their other scheduled projects had been a risk. He’d had to push for it with Bennett and Ethan, promising that he could do it without compromising the other C&M projects.
Mitch had been tempted to put their best workers on the bridal boutique project, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. Instead, he’d spread their best guys among the various job sites, and then he’d hired on people who had previously worked seasonally for C&M to bulk up their workforce.
For the demo, they were able to use some of the lesser skilled workers, and he was pleased to see they were working smoothly and quickly. The goal was to finish the project in twelve weeks, and Mitch was confident that they could achieve that.
“We should be done most of this area by finishing time this afternoon,” Mark said as he came to stand beside Mitch. “The little lady did quite a number on that wall. Made good work of getting it demolished.”
“Yeah, she did.” Mitch thought maybe she’d had a few things to work through in her mind and that hitting the wall had helped. Although, without a doubt, she was going to feel the full effects of her physical labor later. He wondered if she’d be back again at some point. It would have to be in the next few days though as the demo wasn’t supposed to last past the end of the week. Maybe he’d text her later to let her know.
At the end of the week, Mitch walked around the building with Tristan. The last of the demolition was done, and they were ready to move on to the second stage. The space looked huge with most the walls torn down. There were still a few load bearing ones in place, but otherwise, there was nothing but wide-open space.
They had one last thing to demolish, but they couldn’t do it until the windows arrived. A large part of the wall facing the river was going to come down, and in its place were going to be floor to ceiling windows, which would flood the bridal shop with light. Mitch hadn’t been sure about that part of Tristan’s plan, but now that the space was cleared out, he was having an easier time envisioning it all. That was usually how it was for him, in regards to Tristan’s designs for a place that needed a lot of demolition prior to renovations.
As he and Tristan stood on the second floor, looking down over what would be the foyer/reception area, Mitch’s phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the display, pleased to see Belle’s number flash on the screen. They hadn’t spoken since the day when they’d had lunch and had run into Andre.
After he’d had time to think about it, Mitch had realized that he’d had a glimpse into a part of Belle’s life that she likely wouldn’t have voluntarily shared with him. At least not at this point in their acquaintance. He had wondered if she’d felt awkward about it all once she’d left, though he hoped she hadn’t.
She had no reason to feel that way. From the look of Andre Moreau, he had at least a decade on her, and he was the one who had taken advantage of a young woman. That was on him.
“Hello, Belle,” Mitch said as he tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. “How’s it going?”
“Busy. It’s the weekend, so you know the drill.”
“Do you ever have a weekend without a wedding during the summer?”
“Occasionally. Some aren’t too bad as the clients just want us to help them keep things on track for the wedding. It’s the ones where we’re in charge of everything, from the client’s first appointment, that can be daunting. This weekend I only have one wedding that I need to be present at, so it’s a bit of an easier weekend. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“That’s why I was calling.” Belle hesitated before continuing. “My mom and her husband arrived in town this afternoon, and Mom was wondering if it was possible to come tour the building. Also, she wanted to know if you’d be willing to have dinner with us on Sunday evening.”
“Sure thing. Why don’t you all come here Sunday after
noon, and I can give them a tour—such as it is.” Mitch turned in a circle. “You can stand in one place and see pretty much everything right now.”
“It’s probably better that she sees it that way than how it was at the beginning of the week,” Belle said with a laugh. “And will you be able to have dinner afterward?”
“I can if it’s an early one. I have to be at church at seven in the evening, so I’d need to leave by six-thirty.”
“I’m sure we could do five,” Belle said. “They’re flying out early Monday morning, so Mama will probably be fine with having an early dinner.”
“Sounds good. How about I meet you here at four?”
“Sure. We’ll be there.” Belle paused once again. “My mom can be… Well, she’ll likely ask a lot of questions, and I can’t guarantee that none of them will be personal.”
Mitch chuckled. “No worries. I’ve got a mom like that too.”
Well, for a period of time she hadn’t been like that, but she was getting better once again. It was a relief to see her returning to her former self, at least mentally. Physically, she was still not where she’d once been, but the family had been told she might not ever completely regain everything she had lost when she had the aneurysm. He knew his mom struggled with that thought at times, but they were all just so happy that she was still with them that accepting any physical impediments was a small price to pay.
“Consider yourself warned,” Belle said. “I’ve had others say they had moms like I did, only to tell me afterward that mine took the cake.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Mitch assured her, suddenly more than a little eager to meet the woman Belle called mom.
“Perfect. See you Sunday,” Belle said before adding on a goodbye.
“Got a date?” Tristan asked after Mitch hung up.
“Not really.” He shared his plans for Sunday with Belle and her family.
“Oh. So it’s a meet-the-parents sort of thing.”
Mitch laughed. “Ha. Not quite. Maybe you should come with us.”
A Touch of Romance: A Christian Romance (Callaghans & McFaddens Book 6) Page 8
