Beauty & the Biker

by Beth Ciotta

  This was the end, no, the beginning of a new era. An era without Laura Mooney. Even though she’d been gone for several months, her influence lingered. Those proverbs. Her goodness. Bella was only now fully accepting this new phase of life. Visiting the quilting booth had been her way of paying her last respects. Tomorrow she was getting out of her dad’s hair and moving in with Savage. Tomorrow, she’d be forging ahead with her life. Pursuing an impossible dream. The Carson glitch notwithstanding, she was pumped and anxious and just happy enough about moving on to feel a little guilty.

  I’m fierce. I’m fierce. I’m fierce.

  Somehow, magically, blessedly, she stepped away from the booth with a smile. Without a word, Savage guided her through the crowd to his Avenging Angel.

  “When I’m in a funk,” he finally said, “I hit the road for a long ride. Lightens the spirit.”

  “I’m not…” She blew out a breath. “Oh, who am I fooling? Certainly not you. Probably not my Aunt Eva or the other ladies of the quilting club. I was doing okay until the end there. I’m not sad or depressed. I’m excited about a new phase of my life, about looking forward instead of back. About exhibiting derring-do and grabbing the golden ring. But then I started feeling guilty about how happy I am and that put me in this, as you called it, funk.”

  “Ever spent an hour with a potent beast between your legs?”

  “Um…”

  He handed her the spare helmet, adjusting the chin strap after she pulled it on, and then donned his own gear.

  Bella’s stomach fluttered as Savage straddled his bike. Her skin tingled as he reached out, helping her climb up onto the slightly elevated seat behind him.

  “Put your arms around me and hold tight,” he said. “When you achieve euphoria, give me a squeeze.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Once upon a Sunday…

  “We’ve done a lot of crazy things together,” Georgie said. “But this is, by far, the squirreliest. Delivering a lamb to a lion on a platter. Geesh.”

  “Considering he drew that adorable picture for Mel, I’m trying to give Savage the benefit of the doubt.” Chrissy used her hip to shove another box into the back of the Suburban she’d borrowed from Zeke. “But it ain’t easy.”

  Bella frowned, gently wedging her laptop case alongside her other belongings. “If you don’t want to help—”

  “As if I’d refuse you anything,” Georgie said. “Ever. I just wish you were moving in with me or Angel.”

  “Or me,” Chrissy said.

  “Or me,” Emma said, adding Bella’s sole suitcase to the mix.

  “Someone you know and trust,” Angel said, parking Bella’s bicycle alongside their borrowed transport.

  Bella crooked a brow. “You mean someone you know and trust.”

  “Same thing,” Georgie said.

  Bella took a breath, telling herself that her friends meant well. They really did. The Inseparables had been looking out for one another for years. It’s just that this was the first time goody-two-shoes, do-gooder Bella had pulled anything remotely rebel like. Her life had taken an exciting spin ever since that face-off with Savage. Ever since she’d applied for her Impossible Dream. Not to mention the turn of events were happening at lightning speed. In less than a week, she’d made peace with her mom, broken with Carson, reached a tentative agreement with her dad, and fallen hard for a former cop with a mysterious past and mad artistry skills. Oh. And she was moving in with said artist on this glorious, sunshiny day.

  Angel inspected the crammed storage space of Zeke’s SUV. “For a temporary move you’re sure taking an awful lot of stuff.”

  Bella disagreed. “Not really. Linens, pillows, toiletries, clothes, shoes, books, assorted other personal items. Just enough to make my room feel like my room.”

  “You haven’t even seen your room,” Emma said. “You haven’t been inside that house period. Who moves into a place sight unseen?”

  “A person blinded by love,” Georgie said.

  “Or lust,” Chrissy said. “Either way, indulging in reckless infatuation is dangerous.”

  “You did it,” Bella said with a pointed look at her cousin.

  Chrissy colored and Bella instantly regretted the reference to the spontaneous affair that had resulted in the birth of Melody.

  “I don’t think your bike’s going to fit in the back,” Angel blurted.

  “Zeke mounted a rack on the front grill,” Emma said while grabbing the old Schwinn. “Come on, let’s load this puppy up.”

  Georgie followed, leaving Bella alone with Chrissy.

  “That was insensitive of me,” Bella said.

  Chrissy shook her head. “No. I’m the jerk here. Ever since we were kids, no matter my decisions—good or bad—you’ve always been my biggest champion. I should be supporting this thing with Savage, instead of dooming it to failure. I’m just… I’m worried. Sure it was nice of him to show at the festival. He gave your dad a lift, gave Carson hell, and, yeah, he was pretty good with Mel. And, from what you said on our video chat last night, he helped you ride off the blues then dropped you here at home when he could have whisked you back to his place for the nasty.”

  “I have to admit, I was primed,” Bella said remembering how she’d leaned into Savage’s delicious body as they’d raced down the deserted stretch of road. The sun. The wind. The power and vibrations.

  “Ever spent an hour with a potent beast between your legs?”

  Now she had. The sensation was somewhere between numbing and orgasmic.

  “Listen.” Bella reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “Savage may be a hard-ass ex-cop with big-ass chip on his shoulder who also—to my amazement—has, um, a thing for me—”

  “I believe I used the word boner,” Chrissy said with a slight grin, “but go on.”

  “—but he’s also a gentlemen. We’ve shared a couple of amazing kisses, but that’s it.”

  “What’s this about kisses?” Georgie asked as the group reunited.

  “Nothing you don’t already know,” Bella said.

  “Bella’s trying to convince me that Savage is harmless,” Chrissy said.

  “I’m betting anyone who ever crossed him or harmed an innocent would swear otherwise.” Emma angled her head. “He was a big city cop, Bella. Tangled with criminals. I’d like to know why he left the force.”

  Georgie fussed with her lopsided ponytail. “I bet Ryan could find out.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” Bella said.

  “But you’re curious,” Georgie said.

  “Yeah.” Professing otherwise would be a lie. Bella was more than curious about Savage’s past. Especially the portions he refused to talk about which seemed to encompass the whole of his career with the CPD. How could he turn his back on fourteen years of noble service? What compelled him to be a recluse? What fed his haunted aura?

  Mind racing, Bella swiped her forearms across her moist brow. “Leave it to me to pick the hottest day of the summer to relocate. Anyone for chilled lemonade?”

  Angel pushed her frizzing curls from her face. “Sounds like heaven.”

  “You could always ask him straight out,” Chrissy said, still focused on Savage and his past.

  “He warned me there are things he won’t talk about. I’m guessing his reason for resigning is one of them.”

  “One way to find out,” Angel said.

  “Ask,” Emma said.

  “Actually,” Bella said as she led her friends back into the house, “at some point, I’m hoping he’ll feel comfortable enough to offer the information. Meanwhile I’m going to focus on enticing him to collaborate.”

  Emma snorted. “Never heard it called that before.”

  “Ha. I’m talking about his art and my stories,” Bella said as they assembled in the kitchen. “According to Impossible Dream, Joe Savage is my Dream Partner. Together we can make magic. I know it.”

  “Because an internet company told you so?” Emma asked.

  She
thought about the winged fairy he’d drawn for Melody and the story it had prompted—a tale Bella had committed to page last night. She palmed her chest. “Because I feel it in my heart.”

  “I could argue that,” Georgie said with a sigh. “But I won’t. Just because I’ve given up on true love, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. If anyone deserves a Prince Charming, it’s Bella.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Chrissy said as she nabbed plastic tumblers from the cupboard.

  “Ten minutes ago,” Emma said as they settled around the kitchen table, “you were against Bella moving in with Savage.”

  “Ten minutes ago,” Georgie said. “I was miserable and envious and, color me embarrassed, cranky.”

  “Envious of me?” Bella asked while pouring fresh lemonade. “I didn’t realize you were interested in Savage.”

  “I’m not,” Georgie said, much to Bella’s relief. “Not sexually. I’m envious because I’m in a rut, spinning my wheels, watching life whoosh by with no prospects, wallowing in my crapola love life, bemoaning unemployment—”

  “We get the picture,” Chrissy said.

  “And here you are,” Georgie said to Bella, “the most circumspect Inseparable, except maybe Angel, going balls out and taking life by the horns.”

  “Derring-do,” Angel said.

  “Bold action,” Emma said.

  “As suggested by Impossible Dream,” Bella said. “They provided the magic—the identity of my Dream Partner—but it’s up to me to follow through.”

  “Gotta admire your determination and commitment,” Chrissy said to Bella then turned to Georgie. “Maybe you should apply to ID-dot-com.”

  “I would,” Georgie said, “if I knew what to apply for.”

  “What about your dream job?”

  “Or dream man?”

  “Shoot for winning a million bucks,” Emma said. “Then you won’t have to work and men will fall at your feet.”

  Georgie smirked. “Obviously this requires deep and thorough consideration.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Bella asked, encouraged by her friends’ surprising interest in a company that perpetuated dreams. Usually they were more grounded, cynical even. Although it hadn’t always been like that.

  Emma pushed her sunglasses on top of her head then leaned back in the blue chair that had been hand painted by Bella’s mom, and shrugged. “I don’t know that I have dreams. I have goals. Attainable goals, I think. I just need to broaden my horizons.”

  “Which would entail what?” Georgie asked while stirring sugar into her already sweetened drink.

  Emma raised her chin a notch, but shifted her gaze to the kitchen window and the lavender fields beyond. “Leaving Nowhere.”

  Everyone stared.

  Bella fell back against the fridge and gawked. “For good?”

  “For a while,” Emma said, still focused on the purple fields. “Maybe forever. I’m not sure.”

  “What about our pact?” Chrissy asked.

  “You mean the starry-eyed promise we made to one another when we were ten, eleven years old?”

  “Promises don’t have expiration dates,” Bella said. “But I can see where our pact might have been unrealistic. Things happen. Things beyond our control. Sinjun was an Inseparable.”

  “Still is as far as I’m concerned,” Georgie said. “In spirit if not in Nowhere. True friendship isn’t measured by mile markers.”

  “We’d still be inseparable even if Emma globetrotted in search of spine-tingling adventures,” Angel said. “So far as keeping the town of Nowhere alive by not relocating and, instead, infusing the community with young blood and revitalizing enterprise… Our efforts have been lackluster at best. We didn’t move away after graduating high school, true, and we do serve the community in our own way.”

  “Absolutely,” Emma said. “Thanks to you, locals can get a stylish cut and color at Heavenly Hair rather than driving several miles for something other than a basic buzz at Elroy’s Cut & Shave.”

  “Chrissy’s stellar baking skills help to keep people hooked on Buzz-Bees,” Bella said.

  “And Emma supports and stimulates tourism with her hiking tours and her work at the historical museum,” Angel said then nodded toward Bella. “You entertain the kids via story hour and encourage locals to utilize the library which helps to keep that cultural venue alive. Georgie—”

  “Leave my work record out of this, please.”

  “Point is,” Angel continued, “we’re all contributing to local commerce, giving people a reason to shop and circulate in Nowhere instead of driving to a bigger more thriving town, but is that the best we can do?”

  “Do you have something in mind?” Bella asked.

  “Not specifically,” Angel said. “But I’m simmering on a couple of notions. One thing’s for certain, population and tourism continue to dwindle with each passing year. Empty stores and defunct businesses are at an all-time high.”

  “Tell me about it,” Georgie said. “I just applied for two jobs in Whitney because there are zilch opportunities in Nowhere. Not looking forward to the daily commute, but a girl’s gotta work.”

  “Encouraging Savage to reopen Rootin’ Tootin’ Funland is a step in the right direction,” Angel said to Bella. “Who knows? Maybe that would result in a job opportunity for Georgie.”

  “I could help with the books or hawk tickets or dress up like an engineer and operate that kiddie train,” Georgie said with a droll smile. “You know me. Jack-of-all-trades. Anything for a dime. Well, almost anything,” she said, and they all knew she was referring to the embarrassing not-to-be-discussed stint as a lingerie model.

  “Except Savage shut me down as soon as I brought up the possibility of rebuilding Funland,” Bella said.

  “Maybe it’s a financial thing,” Georgie said. “Those rides and concessions are in pretty sad shape.”

  “Baxter left me a lot of money,” Angel said. “Maybe I could invest. Be a backer.”

  “That’s generous of you,” Bella said. “But I think there’s more to Savage’s resistance. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not very sociable. Running the park would require a lot of interaction with crowds. And kids. He doesn’t seem all that keen on children.”

  “He was fine with Mel,” Chrissy said.

  “Yeah. He was. Still…” He’d been tense during his brief appearance at her story circle. Plus she couldn’t shake his aversion to all the kiddie photos Mike had collected in those boxes. Bella shrugged while rinsing out her glass. “Yet another mystery to solve. Once we’re living in the same house, surely it will be easier to crack his tough shell.”

  “I say we attack as a team,” Emma said while rinsing her own glass. “After we move your things into Savage’s house we can shift to the barn and go through the boxes of Funland collectables. While we’re hanging and sorting we can casually pick Savage’s brain.”

  “He may have shut you down on the subject,” Chrissy said, “but he doesn’t stand a chance against all of us.”

  “Even if the discussion veers off, at least we’ll…he’ll be talking,” Angel said.

  Chrissy gave Bella a good-natured nudge. “We’ll get to know, and like, biker dude if it kills us. But if he ever makes you cry—”

  “I know,” Bella said with a crooked smile. “You’ll have his gingamabobs.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joe wasn’t a slob. Just the opposite. He was somewhat of a neat freak. He’d been a bachelor for several years. No wife. No housekeeper. Although on occasion he had hired a professional crew to deep clean his condo in Chicago. Who had the time or patience to scrub grout and steam clean curtains and carpets?

  Meanwhile, he kept his place tidy and free of dust, mildew, and cobwebs. Sometimes friends—there was a time when he’d actually had a few—would drop by for a game of poker or to watch a big game on his big-ass plasma. Sometimes a lady friend would sleep over. Once in a blue moon—when she’d still been alive—his mom would visit. Keeping a rela
tively clean home saved him from kicking empty beer cans and dirty underwear and socks under the sofa or bed when someone knocked on the door.

  He kept the house he’d inherited from his uncle as tidy as his former condo. There’d been no need to dust, polish, vacuum or scrub last night or again this morning in preparation for Bella’s arrival. Nevertheless he’d done so, attacking the kitchen, the upstairs and downstairs washrooms, and her designated bedroom ad nauseam.

  He’d never had a roommate—male or female. He’d never lived with a girlfriend. His home had always been a sanctuary. A place to escape. To crash and sleep. To recover and forget. To brood or vent—mostly the first—due to a particularly brutal day or on-going case. He was used to watching whatever he wanted on television and eating whatever and whenever he chose. He enjoyed the luxury of losing himself in his art without being interrupted or having to make conversation.

  Yet he’d invited Bella to breach his sanctuary for an undetermined amount of time.

  One of two things would happen. He’d want to kick her out after day one. Or he’d never want her to leave. Neither scenario sat well. But it was what it was and, according to her last text, she’d be arriving in ten to fifteen minutes.

  His phone chimed just as he stowed a plastic bin of cleaning products beneath the kitchen sink. He answered without checking the caller ID, assuming it was Bella. “Problem?”

  “No problem,” came a female voice. “Can’t a girl call just to say hello?”

  Not Bella. And he was pretty sure he’d never thought of his former teammate as a “girl”. Valerie Petrie, one of Chicago’s finest, had always been one of the guys. As tough and sharp as they come. Her feminine side tightly contained, even when she let loose.

  “Good to hear your voice, Val.”

  “If you’d return my calls, you’d hear it more often.”

  “I respond.”

  “By email or text. Short and to the point. Or crisp and vague. God forbid we have an actual conversation.”

  “What do you call this?”

  “I’ll reserve judgment until after we disconnect. So,” she paused and he imagined her dropping into a seat and propping up her feet. “Still coming this weekend?”