Beauty & the Biker

by Beth Ciotta

  “Said I’d be there.”

  “Mitzi will be crushed if you bail.”

  “Don’t know about that.”

  “And I’d be pissed.”

  “That I believe.” Joe smiled a little, reminded of the easy banter he used to share with Val. Touched that she still wanted him at her niece’s wedding. Val and her husband, Bennie, had stepped in as Mitzi’s guardians ten years back, after Val’s sister lost her life in a car accident. Over time Joe had formed an easy relationship with Mitzi, just as he had with Bennie. Tender-hearted, Mitzi had been the only one to actually tear up when Joe had kissed his job and Chicago goodbye.

  After a tense moment, Joe added, “I know how important this wedding is to you, Val.”

  “Receiving national recognition for our work with the joint task force was important to me, too. You sure as hell blew that off.”

  “You know my reasons.”

  “One moment of insanity does not negate years of noble service.”

  “Matter of opinion.”

  “Excuse me if I refuse to allow your outburst to tarnish—”

  “Outburst?” Joe barked a humorless laugh. “For chrissake, Val, I almost killed a man with my bare hands.”

  “Almost.”

  “I would have finished the job if you hadn’t tased me.”

  “I didn’t call to rehash—”

  “Why did you call? I know I’ve mangled your faith in me as a partner, but you have to trust I’d never hurt you or your family. Is this really about the wedding?”

  “Just double checking. I know Chicago holds bad memories. Speaking of… You’ve got a reporter on your tail.”

  Joe blinked.

  “Someone from your new neck of the woods. A man named Jones. Said he’s writing a piece for the Dawes County Tribune.”

  “On me?”

  “On heroes living locally. He didn’t seem to know much about you beyond your service record and the award you didn’t show to accept here in Chi Town.”

  “He spoke to you directly?”

  “Was keen to learn your reasons for leaving the force.”

  “I assume you told him to blow.”

  “Only in my head. Diplomacy seemed the wiser course. I told him your reasons for leaving were your own. Guess he didn’t follow up with you, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not surprised,” Val said. “Did some nosing around myself. The DC Trib denies having a reporter by the name of Jones on staff. Nor did they know anything about a hero feature.”

  “A freelancer, maybe,” Joe said. “Someone who’s yet to pitch the story.”

  “Maybe,” Val said. “Point is, someone’s digging into your past. Thought you’d want to know.”

  Joe thought back on his encounter with Sheriff McClure. “When did Jones call?”

  “This morning.”

  McClure had poked into Joe’s history two days back. Was he still at it? He didn’t think that McClure would offer an alias or story that couldn’t be verified. He was too sharp for that. As a lawman, if he really wanted the scoop, he’d know where and how to dig. This had to be someone new. And just because they’d claimed to be calling from Dawes County, that didn’t make it so. Joe had a lot of enemies. In fact, he’d made a new one yesterday. “Oh, hell.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing concrete. Just a thought. I appreciate the head’s up, Val.”

  “What are friends for? We are still friends, Joe.”

  A miracle that humbled him to his soul.

  A horn beeped and Joe scrambled to end the call, knowing Bella had reached the front gate. His mood lifted in a heartbeat. “Hug Mitzi for me. Give Bennie my regards. See you Saturday. Oh, and, Val.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m bringing a guest.”

  * * *

  Zeke’s SUV was packed full with Bella’s stuff and five Inseparables. They’d been chatting like crazy on the short ride over, but as soon as Chrissy rolled up to the locked gate, everyone fell silent.

  Bella had to admit, the house looked dismal on the outside. It needed a lot of work. At least the surrounding yard was no longer out of control. Her dad had cut the grass, trimmed hedges and planted a few flowers. He was at church now, but she knew he’d be here later, picking up where he’d left off with Funland. He was on a mission, he’d said, to whip the grounds into shape.

  Funland itself was situated a fair distance from the residential house and barn, and surrounded by a tall, albeit rickety, fence. Bella couldn’t see the rides and concessions, but she assumed—due to storm damage and neglect, that the park looked as scary as the exterior of Savage’s house. She knew her friends were assuming the interior was just as rundown. Bella had no such reservations. He’d worked wonders inside the pole barn. No clutter. No dirt. No obnoxious smells, other than the faint scent of paint. Organized shelves—a place for everything. She’d bet money Savage kept an immaculate house.

  Chrissy hit the horn and they all jumped.

  “Geez,” Angel said.

  “How else will he know we’re here?” Chrissy asked. “Unless he mounted surveillance cameras somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised. Get a load of all the No Trespassing signs. That plus a padlocked gate 24/7? Paranoid much?”

  “Maybe there’s a price on his head,” Georgie said.

  Bella frowned over her shoulder. “What?”

  “Maybe he ticked off some mob boss. Had to go underground.”

  “You watch too much television,” Bella said with an eye roll.

  “It happens,” Emma added with a solemn look.

  “I don’t know Savage well,” Bella said, “but I promise you he wouldn’t put me in harm’s way.”

  “He does have that macho protector thing going on,” Angel said then waggled her brows. “Sexy.”

  “Speaking of sexy,” Chrissy said then whistled low.

  Bella faced front and they all leaned forward for a better look as Savage stepped off the porch and hit the newly mown grass—Killer trotting by his side.

  “You were right about that cat being fond of your guy,” Angel said. “Follows him like a dog. Cute.”

  “Who’s looking at the puff-ball?” Emma asked. “Hello? Human hunk dead ahead.”

  Bella noted Savage’s signature tee, low riding jeans, and those sexy, sexy boots, and tried not to sigh. She didn’t blame her friends for ogling. Any breathing woman would.

  “Imagine waking up next to that every morning,” Georgie said.

  “Bella won’t have to imagine,” Angel said.

  “We’ll be sleeping in separate rooms,” Bella said, even though she was envisioning snuggling under the sheets with the human hunk striding their way.

  “We’ll see how long that lasts,” Emma said as he unlocked the gate and moved toward the passenger side of their vehicle.

  Heart pounding, Bella rolled down her window. She felt the strength of Savage’s intense aura at ten paces. When he closed in, instead of musky aftershave, she smelled lemons and pine and a dash of wood soap. Cleaning products? She smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Even though the car was packed with gorgeous women, he focused solely on Bella, smoothing her hair from her forehead, and noting the lack of bandage. “The scratch is barely noticeable. How are your hands?”

  She showed him her palms—also sans gauze. “The cuts scabbed over so they’re sort of ugly. And they smart a little, but no biggie.”

  Savage pressed a kiss to each palm, sending a rush of heat to Bella’s cheeks and—oh, criminy—between her legs.

  Gaze sparking then shifting, he finally noted the rest of her posse.

  “You got my text, right?” She cleared her croaky throat and plowed on. “The one where I said everyone insisted on helping me with the move?”

  “Many hands make light work,” Angel said from the back seat.

  Savage’s mouth twitched. “Nothing to do with you checking out my place to make sure it’s not a death trap, right? Or a pig sty?”

 
; Bella grinned over her shoulder at her friends. “Told you he had a sense of humor.”

  “Watch your toes, funny man,” Chrissy said then, after making sure she could see Killer, put the car into gear.

  They rolled through the gate and Bella watched in the side-view mirror as Savage latched the gate behind him. He was awfully obsessive about his privacy. Yet he hadn’t given Bella grief about bringing along her four friends. He was making concessions for her, respecting the Inseparables and their tight bond. Unlike Carson who resented anyone who stole away Bella’s time and interest.

  “Is this it?” Savage asked after opening the back hatch.

  “Isn’t it enough?” Emma asked.

  “Only temporary, right?” Chrissy asked as she snagged a box.

  Bella blushed and leaned into her new landlord. “Don’t mind them.”

  “I don’t.” He cut her a glance. “Honestly, I don’t.”

  She saw something new in his eyes, sensed something in his being. A lightness that hadn’t been there before. From that moment on Bella floated. Logically, she knew her feet were on the ground, but she felt no connection with the earth.

  Euphoria spiked as they poured into the house—sans the cat, barred by Savage. Just as she’d guessed, the man kept a spotless home.

  “Does your place always look like this?” Emma asked. “Or is this a special effort in Bella’s honor.”

  “Yes and yes,” Savage said, balancing a box and a bulging suitcase. “I’d tell you to dump those boxes anywhere, ladies, and I’d tote them up later, but I’m guessing you want to see where Bella will be sleeping.”

  “Lead on,” Chrissy said, which he did and Bella floated right behind.

  She’d been in this house before, when Mike had lived here. When he’d invited her family over for dinner. When she’d knocked on his door with her mom hovering behind, hoping to sell him a box of Girl Scout cookies. He always invited them in for chocolate milk while mulling over his choices. He always ordered one box of every flavor.

  Mike had been exceedingly kind, but eccentric. His taste in furnishings and décor, eclectic. Every room had been crammed with an excess of furniture. Every wall had sported different patterned wallpaper—all of it ugly. Now every wall of every room was painted the same shade of subtle beige. Yet every room popped with various colors via picture frames and matted art. Style varied, but every painting and illustration touched or stirred Bella’s soul. She wondered if any of the art had been painted by Savage. She couldn’t be sure. Most of it was abstract.

  Furnishings were sparse yet tasteful. A lot of dark leather and wood. It wasn’t Bella’s idea of homey but it was an ideal home for Savage. It suited him and it wasn’t unpleasant for Bella. It simply struck her as a work in progress. A few regional accents would infuse this old house with historical charm. A bound sprig of lavender, a Prairie Angel made out of woven wheat, Native American carvings, a cowboy sculpture or two. Bella made a mental note to purchase a house-warming gift. Something meaningful, but not too sappy.

  Midway down the upstairs hall, Savage opened a door. “If this doesn’t suit,” he said to Bella, “there’s another guest room. I thought you’d enjoy the view from these windows. The lavender field, your dad’s home and—”

  “Mom’s quilt.” Bella froze just over the threshold. She felt her friends brushing by, pushing in. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the colorful hand-stitched quilt draped over the bottom quarter of the double bed. “How—”

  “I thought you should have it,” Savage said, then excused himself to grab the last load from Zeke’s car.

  Disbelieving, Bella stared at her mom’s last creation, the quilt that had been on display at the festival.

  “He must’ve bid on it,” Georgie said after he left.

  “And bid high,” Chrissy added.

  “Okay,” Emma said. “I’m convinced. The guy’s a keeper because, hell, that’s—”

  “Sweet,” Angel finished.

  “Really sweet,” Georgie said.

  “I need you guys to leave,” Bella said.

  They circled around her, expressions ranging between shock and concern.

  “What?”

  “Why?”

  “We’re supposed to move this party to the barn,” Emma said. “Remember? The boxes of memorabilia?”

  “A collective effort to learn more about Savage?” Georgie said.

  “And maybe change his mind about Funland?” Angel added.

  Chrissy frowned. “Why the boot?”

  Bella spoke over the lump in her throat. “I need to thank Savage. For Mom’s quilt. I’d like to do so in private.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mission Funland on temporary hold,” Georgie said.

  Savage returned with two boxes just as the Inseparables made a mass exodus. “Something I said?”

  “Something you did.” Bella gestured to the boxes. “Drop those.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to take a running leap and I’d appreciate it if you’d catch me.”

  The boxes thudded to the floor the same time Bella launched herself at Savage, knocking him against the bare beige wall. She wrapped her arms and legs around the man and kissed him for all she was worth. She couldn’t temper her passion, her appreciation, or her joy. A whirlwind of positive emotions swept her up and away, eviscerating speech and logic and thought. She could only feel and she felt wonderful. Who knew kissing could be so magical, so utterly consuming.

  Savage kissed her with searing passion. Lips, teeth, tongues clashing and melding and dancing. The earth moved. No, they moved. Floating across the room and falling back onto the bed. All the while, kissing and kissing and kissing.

  The weight of his body set Bella on fire. Hot. So, hot.

  Too many clothes.

  She slid her hands under his shirt, her fingers brushing his skin, and suddenly his shirt was gone. Pulled off and over his head, flung away, like her inhibitions.

  “I’ve been dreaming of this,” she managed as his mouth worked a path down her neck, his fingertips skimming her inner thigh. Due to the hot day, she’d opted for short shorts and a gauzy tank. Even so, she was burning up and hoping for naked. Soon. Now.

  Crud.

  Instead of peeling off her clothes, he eased away. No kissing. No touching. Weight braced on his forearms, Savage stared down at Bella, the evidence of his desire still pressed against the apex of her legs.

  Locked in a sensual haze, Bella blinked up at his ridiculously handsome face. “You look sort of miserable.”

  “I am miserable.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to make love to you.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you worried that I have feelings for Carson?”

  “No.”

  “Afraid I’ll get all clingy and expect a ring or something just because we mattress danced?”

  He smiled a little. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  He sighed then dropped his forehead to hers. “It’s complicated.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She tempered her breath, harnessed her disappointment. She didn’t know what was going on inside his head and her own mind was preoccupied with kissing and the naked thing.

  We provide the magic. You provide the derring-do. True passion and faith required. Patience recommended.

  Patience.

  Right.

  “Okay,” Bella said for the third time. Third time’s a charm and her thoughts slowly veered to another kind of rush. She smiled into those tortured eyes. “Then let’s do something simple.”

  “Like?”

  “Collaborate.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I know you’re not big on drawing castles and unicorns and fairy godmothers and the like,” Bella said as Savage settled on the sofa, “but maybe you’ll feel different after you read one of my stories. Starting with the one inspired by the fairy you sketche
d for Melody.”

  Pulse zipping, Bella pulled one page from her folder, the tale she’d typed last night and printed this morning. She passed it to Savage. “It’s just one page. A short story. Melody and I have this thing we do sometimes. She draws a picture. I make up a little story. Usually on the spot and on the fly, so…” She cleared her throat. “I’m rambling.”

  Gaze on the page, he smiled a little while reading: Freda the Fairy and the Magical Man.

  Bella crossed her arms and rocked back and forth on her bare feet.

  “It’s cute. And there’s a moral. Nice.”

  Now Bella smiled. “See what we can do together?”

  He passed her back the page. “That fairy was a one-time deal. A fluke.”

  “I disagree. It’s just a part of yourself that you haven’t explored. You haven’t had the proper inspiration. Until Melody. She sparked it and I can make it burn brighter. In turn, you’ll make my stories shine.”

  “Bella—”

  “Just give me a chance. This isn’t easy. Sharing my stories. The last time I… Never mind.” Carson was history. “Anyway, you freed my paralyzed creativity. Now I’m hoping to inspire you. I have eight stories in this folder. Only four are complete. I’m not a literary genius or anything, but I do think I’m a decent storyteller. I certainly have a lot of ideas and loads experience if you factor in the bazillion fairy tales I’ve read over the years. I—”

  “Bella.”

  “What?”

  Leaning forward, Savage held out his hand. “Give me the file.”

  The file, she realized, was clutched to her chest as she paced the length of his living room…rambling.

  Hot faced, Bella stopped at Savage’s propped feet. “Okay. Here they are,” she said as she held out the expandable and exploding purple folder. “Hard copies of all eight stories. What there is of them anyway. Like I said, only four are complete. Please don’t feel like you have to read them all or even one in its entirety—even though they’re pretty short. You can skim. See if anything catches your eye or interest or—”

  “Bella.”

  “What?”

  “Let go of the file.”

  Oh, geez. She had a death grip on the stories of her heart. She let go and resumed her pacing. “Take your time.”