Tempting the Ringmaster (A Big Top Romance)

by Aleah Barley

  “Damn fine sight to see,” Frank said, his voice wobbling with emotion.

  “Guess your Gilly’s not so bad after all.” Keith grabbed Belle’s hand and lifted it up triumphantly.

  The lights went down as Graham hustled through the crowd into the last open seat and the show began in earnest.

  Between the acts they’d lost in the Big Fumble and the families who’d left after the fire, they were forty five minutes shorter than they’d been at the beginning of the season. In reworking the performance, Belle-Anne had gotten rid of the intermission and tightened up the acts. She’d also added more group bits that incorporated more than one specialty at the same time, the things that circus members usually did while playing and practicing late at nights; the fire breather working in conjunction with the strong man, the trained dogs catching balls from the jugglers and mimicking the clowns.

  The reaction from the audience was amazing. They loved it. They loved her.

  This was it, the whole point of a live circus, pushing the boundaries of what the body could do and the mind could accomplish.

  Wonder and amazement.

  The triumph of the human spirit.

  When Belle finally took her bow at the end of the show, adrenaline was ripping through her body, her heart was pounding in her chest. The crowd was on their feet, clapping excitedly. The company bowed once, twice, three times. Then there was a mad rush backstage, all shouts and stammers as they rehashed what had just happened.

  “Magical,” Graham swung her up into his arms. He kissed her firmly, and her body shivered at the memory of where his lips had been only a few hours earlier. She gazed lovingly up into his blue eyes, knowing that he was largely responsible for the evening’s success.

  It wasn’t just a fling. It had never been just a fling. Graham was different. Special. He understood. When the circus left town in a few days, she’d make plans to come back and visit. He could come with them on the road.

  Not permanently—that was too much to hope for—but the occasional weekend in Chicago or evening in Detroit wasn’t out of the question.

  Maybe she could find a winter campground nearby. The fairgrounds were out of the question—too expensive—but there had to be someplace within a day’s drive. He deserved that much.

  They deserved the opportunity.

  “It was great,” Kelly agreed, breaking through Belle’s reverie. The entire Tyler family had managed to squeeze their way backstage. Trevor raced over to congratulate Petra with a pile of daffodils in his arms.

  “Good news,” Graham said. “Bill Mason is here. He’s a detective over in Whispering Springs. He says that they’re going to open an investigation into the fire.”

  “What?” Belle’s head jolted upright. “An investigation? That can’t be right—”

  “This is a good thing,” he said firmly. “It means we’ll find out what happened to your tent. It means I’ll have the authority to investigate, to question people—”

  “Question my people?” Her hands felt numb.

  She was having a stroke.

  Or a heart attack.

  Maybe she was having a stroke and a heart attack.

  “You can’t question anyone. They’re my friends. My family. They have a right to privacy. Joining the circus—people aren’t always running to something—sometimes they’re running away. I don’t ask questions. I don’t judge them on where they come from. I don’t care, as long as they work hard and treat everyone else in the company with fairness and honesty—”

  “Don’t worry,” Graham said. His hand was firm on her elbow, supporting and reassuring. It felt completely foreign. “Your people are going to be fine. Their backgrounds all check out—”

  “Oh, god.” Heat raced to her face. This was the end. She was going to kill him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You ran background checks on my people,” Belle’s voice was ice cold. Dressed in the red tuxedo and gleaming gold vest that made up her ringmaster uniform, she looked like some kind of crazed cater waiter. Her head snapped up, staring at him. Her hat fell back off her head.

  Graham held his breath, waiting for her to catch the top hat and twirl it on her fingers. It was the same trick she’d been performing all night.

  The hat tumbled to the ground, landing solidly on the mud strewn ground. Dark liquid seeped into the red brim.

  “How dare you invade people’s privacy like that?”

  “It’s not about invading their privacy. It’s about keeping you safe—all of you—someone set the fire on purpose,” Graham was louder than he’d meant.

  They were drawing attention from all around the cramped backstage.

  Too damn bad.

  Belle needed to understand.

  He wasn’t attacking her. This wasn’t about rifling through the circus’s dirty laundry. It was about keeping them all safe; Petra, Willow, Turtle, even Keith. The clown king might be the toughest little man in a rubber nose, but he’d be helpless against a fire bug.

  “This isn’t a banana peel or a pie to the face,” he growled. “It’s arson.”

  “Accidents happen—”

  “Be serious, Belle. It wasn’t an accident. You’ve got to face the facts here. The big top burned down. You’ve got some kind of pyromaniac hanging around the place, and I’m not going to ignore that because of your tender sensibilities.” Graham was being harsh. He didn’t need to see the disapproval in Kelly’s face or the hurt in Belle’s eyes to know that. Too damn bad.

  This was who he was—damn it—the police chief.

  It was what he did, fighting the good fight and righting the world’s wrongs. Even if that meant getting hurt in the process. The same instinct that had sent him barreling head first into the burning trailer the previous morning was the instinct that wouldn’t let him back away from Belle’s piercing eyes.

  All week long he’d pussyfooted around her feelings. It was hard not to appreciate her spark, her fire, the way she cared more about the circus and her people than anything else—including him—but it was time for her to grow up and face reality.

  “Someone in this circus set fire to the big top,” he said. “One of these people that you’re so hell bent on protecting is an arsonist. Unless we find them—”

  “Um, excuse me,” Petra interrupted.

  The girl was smart and funny. She needed to work on her timing. Graham ground his teeth together. “We’re busy—”

  “Uncle Graham.” Trevor grabbed at his wrist.

  “Come on, Trevor.” Kelly reached out for her son. “Your uncle needs to take care of some business.”

  “No,” Trevor said, his voice wobbling. “This is important.”

  Important. Graham took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger inside him. His nephew was a good kid, with straight-As at school and a starting position on his Little League baseball team. He knew the difference between right and wrong. He wouldn’t say something was important if he didn’t mean it.

  Graham turned slightly to look at his nephew.

  Tall for his age with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Trevor looked so much like David. Sometimes it felt like Graham was looking at an old photograph of his brother. Only, now Trevor’s hands were twisted in the hem of his green t-shirt. His bottom lip was wobbling. “It’s my fault.”

  “My fault,” Petra said. The circus girl was still dressed in her costume for the show; the frothy purple gown with its yards of tulle and her preposterous hat. When she looked up, Graham could see tears in her eyes. She took Trevor’s hand.

  The two children’s hands clasped tightly. Their fingers lacing together to give one another strength.

  “Our fault,” Trevor corrected, unwilling to let his friend take the blame all by herself. He cleared his throat nervously. “I—I snuck out of the house. I wanted to see Petra. I would have asked mom, but she was busy and you weren’t home.”

  Kelly and Trevor lived in a two bedroom bungalow in the center of town. It wasn’t far from the fairgr
ounds, but it wasn’t close either. Five miles. Too far for a kid to go by himself in the middle of the night.

  “How did you get here?” Graham asked.

  “I rode my bike.” Trevor wiped his face on the edge of his sleeve. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

  “You—” Graham lowered himself until he was kneeling on the ground. Mud soaked into his jeans. “You are never a bother,” he told the boy who he’d sworn to help raise and protect. The nephew that he couldn’t love any more than his own son. He wrapped his arms around Trevor’s quivering shoulders. “Never, ever. Do you understand me? Anything you want, you can always talk to me. Anytime.”

  “I just wanted to come to the circus. I wanted to see Petra. We went and looked at the elephant—”

  “I showed him how fire breathing works,” Petra said. “It’s really cool. Anyone can do it. Really.” Tears were streaming down her face. She hadn’t dropped Trevor’s hand. The girl took off her hat. Underneath the costume, she looked suddenly small and pale. “But then it got out of control. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was an accident.”

  “It was totally an accident, Uncle Graham,” Trevor said, stepping in front of Petra. Defending her.

  Pride warmed Graham’s heart. He must have done something right. Trevor was a stand up kid, even if that meant he was protecting the girl who’d led him down the dusty trail. Petra was a bad influence, just like the rest of the circus.

  Graham never should have taken his nephew to the circus. He never should have set a bad example by hanging around the fairgrounds in the first place. He had responsibilities. People looked up to him. He couldn’t afford to make a wrong step or something terrible might happen.

  He couldn’t be with Belle. Not for a one night stand. Not for just a fling. Not for the occasional visit after she’d left town.

  They were over. Finished. He needed to focus on the things that mattered. His friends. His family. Trevor and Kelly. His father. Tiffany. Marta. An entire town full of people who depended on him.

  “Get your things,” he told Trevor. “We’re going home.”

  “We can’t let Petra get in trouble,” Trevor insisted. “It was an accident, I swear.”

  Both of the kids were crying now. Petra’s makeup had melted off her face, and Trevor’s eyes were red. He sniffed loudly, wiping his face on his shirt a second time. The small action reminiscent of all the times he’d fallen down and scraped his knees or cut himself while helping to make dinner.

  Trevor was a sturdy kid. A fun filled rough housing, boy who loved his mother and almost always did what he was told. He was also seven and a half years old.

  Graham wished there was something reassuring he could say, but Petra wasn’t his responsibility. All he could do was get Trevor out of there—fast—even if that meant leaving the girl to face the music. Sometimes actions had consequences. Playing with fire, the kids could have been hurt. The fact that they’d escaped without being seriously injured was something he’d thank god for every day, but a few tears couldn’t gloss over the trouble they’d caused.

  The tent was the circus’s livelihood. He didn’t want to think about what it meant to Belle or the rest of the performers.

  “When you get a new tent, send me a copy of the bill. I’ll pay for half.” It was the least he could do. The only thing he could do without seeing Belle again. Their relationship needed to end.

  Now.

  Even if that meant he’d never see her smile again—never hear her laughter—or watch her come writhing in his arms as he buried himself inside of her. It was time to go back to his real life. Boring. Stable. Predictable.

  The biggest thing he could see in his future was the Winter Social the next night, dancing attendance on everyone who was anyone in Buck Falls, and then it would be back to the grindstone. Getting kittens out of trees, rescuing old ladies from windstorms, and smiling politely when women tried to prove their worth as a potential mate by giving him casserole.

  If he never saw another casserole again then, it would be too soon.

  Graham didn’t wait to see what was going to happen next. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. “We’re leaving,” he said, grabbing Trevor’s hand in his. He turned and began to walk away, tugging the boy along with him.

  One step. Two.

  Each footfall felt like an eternity.

  What if someone tried to stop them? Keith or Mikhail—Petra’s father—Graham could hold his own against the strongman, but he couldn’t take down the other man while keeping Trevor and Kelly safe.

  He ducked out of the tent. Holding his breath until he heard his sister-in-law emerge a few steps behind him. Everything was going to be okay. Maybe.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Graham demanded, letting go of Trevor’s arm. He looked down at the small blonde head. It had been more than twenty-four hours since the fire. He’d talked to his nephew more than half a dozen times since then, and Trevor hadn’t said a word. It was the circus’s influence. Secretive, combative. “Hell, Trevor, why didn’t you just tell me what was going on?”

  “I—I couldn’t,” Trevor stammered the words out. “You’d just be disappointed in me.” His chin stuck out defiantly. His small hands balled up into fists. “You—you don’t understand. You just want me to be like my dad! I just want to be me! I want to play with Petra and visit the elephant. I want to join the circus—“

  “Out of the question,” Graham snarled, his reaction immediate and visceral. “You’re not joining the circus.” If he had his way, Trevor would never go near the circus again. “You’re going to work hard, go to a good school, and build a real life, someplace settled down, stable, not flitting around playing all the time. Aimless. Directionless.” The door to the tent rustled, someone else had come out. “No home. No responsibilities. Just make a mess and move on—“

  “Enough,” unexpected steel filled Kelly’s voice, giving it a hard edge. Her cheeks were pink. Her expression grim. She smoothed her dress with a flick of one wrist. “Don’t you dare talk to Trevor like that—“

  “He’s my nephew.”

  “And he’s my son. If someone is going to decide a fitting punishment for him then it’s going to be me, but I’m not going to let you dictate the rest of his life because he made one mistake when he was seven.” Her eyes danced angrily. “A lot’s just happened. We all need to take some time to process things. Alone.”

  She reached for her son’s hand, but Trevor had hurled himself towards the defenses of his mother’s swinging skirts. He grabbed the hem of her dress in one fist, holding on tight as he moved away from Graham.

  Damn, the last thing he wanted to do was alienate his nephew or his sister-in-law. They were his family. The reason he’d come back to Buck Falls eight years earlier. If anything happened to damage their relationship. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs.

  Kelly was right. His feet hurt. His shoulders ached. His head was pounding. He was in no position to have a rational discussion with anyone. “Fine, I’m going home.”

  A twitch of color caught the corner of Graham’s eye. Scarlet over gold. Belle. Her face pale with hurt. Hell. How much had she heard? Did it matter? Apologizing was what he needed to do, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he acknowledged her presence with a sharp nod and left. His feet dragging the entire long walk home.

  In the past week, he’d been beaten and burned, but nothing had hurt as much as the look of betrayal on Belle’s face.

  * * *

  Graham’s words echoed inside Belle’s skull. The things he’d said about the circus—about her—had cut like a knife. He couldn’t have chosen better if he’d been privy to her deepest, darkest nightmares. “Flitting around playing all the time. Aimless. Directionless. No home. No responsibilities. Just make a mess and move on.” All the names she’d been called over the years, all the barriers she’d built—thought she’d built—and he’d still managed to hurt her.

  Petra’s confession had been surprising and pa
inful to hear. The big top fire hadn’t been arson like Graham thought, but it also hadn’t been entirely accidental. Two kids playing with fire was never really an accident. It was foolishness. A confluence of horrible events. Someone must have left their equipment unlocked, and someone else hadn’t been watching the children.

  Actions had consequences. The circus had rules, and it was Belle’s responsibility to enforce them. Heads would roll, but she’d followed the Tyler family out of the tent to reassure Trevor that Petra’s wouldn’t be one of them. The girl was eight years old. A born performer striving to master her next trick. She’d be punished—Belle and the Petrovs would see to that—but nothing too harsh. She might have to sit out for a dozen shows or wait six months before she could learn a new bit, but it would be appropriate for her age.

  She certainly wouldn’t lose her place among the troop.

  Unlike Blue Deveraux. The man wasn’t just the circus’s fire breather—the only person at the fairgrounds who regularly used fire breathing equipment—he was also their safety chief. If she couldn’t trust him to look after his equipment then he’d have to go. Losing the man she’d always thought of as family would be like losing an appendage. Painful. Violent. Raw.

  But it still didn’t measure up to losing Graham. Things had been rocky ever since they’d met, but she’d finally thought they’d reached a place of understanding. She’d begun to dream about the future. Then he’d betrayed her. Twice. Once by running background checks on her people, and then with his words: “Just make a mess and move on.”

  Salt stained her lips, making her realize she’d been crying ever since Graham’s broad shoulders had vanished into the darkness. “Damn,” she wiped her face on the back of her hand. “Damn.”

  “It’s alright, sweetheart.” The woman’s body was warm and familiar. Still dressed in the outfit she wore to perform, Dorothy wore a melancholy smile on her face. “There’s no reason to hide a few tears. No reason to be ashamed of wanting more than a metal trailer and a life on the road. I always thought I’d settle down myself one day. Of course, my husband wouldn’t hear of it. His heart’s always been in the circus.” She shrugged. “Maybe I should have run off with a town boy like your Graham.”