Beauty & the Biker

by Beth Ciotta

  “We came straight here from the airport,” Bella said, cheeks hot. Had they also been discussing her impromptu visit and her embarrassingly public cry? “Val invited me to stay at her house, which was very nice, but Angel booked a hotel room for me.”

  “I told him,” Val said, “but the man has other ideas.”

  “You’re staying with me,” Savage said.

  “But—”

  “I texted Angel. She’s canceling the reservation.”

  “You had Angel’s number?”

  “No, but McClure did.”

  That coaxed a smile out of Bella. Something was brewing between her friend and the sheriff. She’d bet on it. And she couldn’t say she minded. Nope. Not one bit.

  “I’ll drop your bag at Savage’s hotel on my way home,” Val told Bella. “I need to go. Last minute wedding stuff. Speaking of. I’ll see both of you at the church tomorrow. Eleven, sharp. Right?”

  “We’ll be there.” Savage pulled Val in for a quick hug. She seemed surprised by that, tensing a little but smiling when he spoke close to her ear.

  “You owe me.” Val smacked his chest before parting, but there was a softness in her eyes.

  Bella realized then that they were as close as the Inseparables. Even though they’d had a falling out professionally, they were still friends. Bella’s aching chest eased. All this time she’d thought Savage was friendless. He wasn’t. “What do you owe Val for?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “Seeing you safely to me.” He kissed Bella briefly, causing her heart to swell even more, then guided her toward an elevator.

  He promised to give her a nickel tour of Chicago and she knew it was his way of helping her shake the last of her upset. She gladly accepted his offer. Between her first plane ride—alone no less, calling Val—who she’d never met, stuffing down her emotions in order to lift Sasha’s spirits, and questioning the validity of her Impossible Dream, Bella was wound tighter than he could possibly know. Achieving Zen compliments of a raging beast between her legs would be a blessing because she had no intention of venting the extent of her anxiety. It wasn’t her way plus she didn’t want to add to Savage’s already existing stress. She’d come here intending to prove that she could handle the nastiness of his past and present. She’d come here to be his rock. And then she’d crumbled. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Hugging Savage tightly as he tooled her around the city on the smoking wheels of Avenging Angel, Bella mentally shed her rose-tinted glasses and imagined the worst of the worst. Violence, drugs, corruption. A glimpse into the life Savage had led here—the things he’d seen, the things he done. She told herself she could live with it. All of it. Even the knowledge that he’d almost killed a man with his bare hands. Because deep down, she didn’t believe he would have followed through. If Val hadn’t been there, his conscience would have intervened—even if at the last second. It didn’t matter that Savage had doubts. Bella believed in his innate goodness enough for the both of them.

  Time blurred as they navigated the mania of the city, as Bella absorbed every sight and sound. So many buildings and cars. So many people. People of varied races and religions. People who prospered and many who didn’t. Each experiencing their own trials and unique journey.

  The reckless cab driver, the shifty-looking street vendor, the homeless guy on the corner with a dog in his lap.

  Overwhelming. Intimidating. Invigorating.

  She tucked away her observations, knowing they’d somehow weave their way into her writing, and realizing suddenly that the missing element in all of her stories was not illustrations, although they would be beneficial, but a sincere sense of adventure via personal experience.

  She’d lived with her head in the clouds, relying wholly on her imagination instead of drawing from reality. She’d gone out of her way to avoid confrontation, tragic news stories, and anything of an unpleasant nature. She’d barely traveled beyond the safe and homogenized boundaries of Nowhere, severely limiting her world views. She’d arrogantly and naïvely taken offense to Savage’s lack of faith in mankind and his adversity to perpetuating whimsical illusions, yet she’d never lived in his shoes. Heck, after seeing Sasha, Bella realized she’d barely lived at all.

  Savage slowed and stopped at a traffic light. He looked over his shoulder. “Anything in particular you’d like to see or do?”

  Over the last hour, he’d pointed out or mentioned several of Chicago’s top attractions—assorted museums, Lincoln Park Zoo, the Shedd Aquarium, and Navy Pier. She wanted to experience it all. But even more, she wanted to connect with whatever had brought Savage joy in this town. Back in Nowhere, he’d mentioned escaping the darkness, but there had to be some sunshine here. Someplace that held good memories. Something to foster other than the awfulness of Operation Little Lamb Lost.

  “Did you have a favorite hangout?” she asked over the obnoxious honking of an impatient driver.

  “Sure. Two. Soldier Field and the Lake.”

  Bella smiled and gave him a squeeze. “Then that’s where I want to go.”

  * * *

  Joe had never been a talker. Certainly not a rambler. But he’d rambled plenty at the ball field. At first it had been to fill the silence. Bella had been abnormally quiet, since her encounter with Sasha. He missed her chatter and even more, her effervescent cheer. So he’d launched into the history of the oldest NFL stadium in the country and his fondness for the Bears, the same type of fanatical devotion that her dad and Zeke probably felt for the Huskers. With very little prompting from subdued Bella, he’d also shared stories involving him and some of his buddies, highlights of memorable games and concerts he’d attended at Soldier Field. He’d almost forgotten the random happiness in the years before Little Lamb Lost.

  After that he steered the Roadster up Lakeshore Drive. Lake Michigan stretched wide to their right and he could feel Bella’s awe as she pressed her cheek to the back of his shoulder and simply stared into the endless blue. A lifetime of being landlocked in Nebraska, the Lake probably looked like the ocean to her.

  He shot north to Grant Park where he knew he’d find a hot dog vendor. They’d also have a view of the city skyline on one side and Lake Michigan on the other. Surrounded by lush gardens and trees, this was as close as it got to the serene feel of Nowhere. Joe felt the last bit of tension easing from his shoulders as he parked the bike and helped Bella down. Taking her hand, they walked landscaped paths that would have made Archie proud.

  Walking side-by-side, Joe studied Bella, loving her messy ponytail and that sweet, beautiful face. Her faded blue jeans and those screaming red gym shoes. He loved the feel of her hand, the scent of her shampoo, and the way she kept knocking into him because she was distracted by the views. Damned if he didn’t love everything about this woman. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say something romantic or poetic or, hell, something funny. Anything to restore her effervescence. He settled on interlacing his fingers with hers, pouring affection into simple handholding. Buying time while he untangled his tongue-tied thoughts. For a man who’d blabbed non-stop about the Bears, he was now at a loss for words.

  Luckily, the sight of a striped umbrella and the silver cart on wheels saved Joe from making a bumbling ass of himself.

  Thirty-seconds later, Bella was cradling her dinner between her hands and studying the decked out dog as if it were an alien. “There’s poppy seeds all over the bun.”

  “Yup.”

  “And a bazillion condiments.”

  “The works. Chicago-style.” Celery salt, yellow mustard, bright green relish. Everything but ketchup.

  “A dill pickle, onions, peppers, tomatoes. A veritable garden.” Bella raised a brow. “Are you sure there’s a hot dog in there?”

  “An all-beef frankfurter. You bet. Hey,” he teased, “I tried a Choo-Choo Cheesburger.”

  “Yes, you did.” She lifted the dog to her mouth. “Here’s goes.”

  Joe watched as she bit into the cornucopia of flavors, grinned when her eyes
grew wide and sparkled with delight. “Good, huh?”

  “Wow,” she said with her mouth full.

  They sat on a bench and ate in contented silence. They polished off two dogs each and shared a can of pop. Joe hadn’t missed a lot of what he’d left behind in the city, but he did miss the hot dogs and Soldier Field and, yeah, the Lake. Come to think of it, he missed a few more of the cultural aspects…and Val and a few other friends. Friends he’d distanced himself from after getting into the thick of Lost Lamb.

  He realized suddenly that he’d felt lighter in the last hour than he had in the past two years. All because Bella had asked him to show her his favorite hangs. Which had prompted him to ramble while focusing on the good in his life as a way of lifting her spirts.

  “You’re smiling,” Bella noted.

  “You’re amazing.”

  She flushed. “How so?”

  “You not only see the good in everything. You inspire other people to recognize the positive, even if they have to dig deep or far back. In other words,” he said, while wiping mustard from his hands, “you kicked my badass out of the gutter and into the sunshine.”

  She shifted her gaze, frowned.

  “That was a compliment.”

  “I don’t deserve your praise.”

  “Why not?”

  “I downplayed your cynicism, glossed over your lack of faith. As if it could be fixed if only you’d look on the bright side. I told you to try harder. I can’t believe I said that. It was thoughtless.”

  “Bella—”

  “You told me you didn’t want to rebuild Funland and yet I pushed. Even after you made it clear you were uncomfortable with kids.” She stood and paced. “I was focused on the good of the community and the benefits for the children. I thought if I kept pointing out the advantages, if I kept focusing on the good stuff, like how you could use Funland as a giant advertisement for your art, that you’d wake up one morning smelling roses instead of thorns.”

  Joe’s heart pounded as he watched her worry a path in the grass. Is this why she’d been so quiet? Because all this had been festering?

  “And that’s another thing. Your art. I tried to talk you into sketching sparkly castles and purple dragons, creating fanciful illusions and going against your own inspiration and experience. I messed with your muse to benefit my own. I feel so shallow.”

  “For Christ’s—”

  “After Ryan told me about Little Lamb Lost I thought I got you. I thought I understood what you’d seen, what you’d done. But then I saw Sasha and I realized I couldn’t possibly empathize with what you’ve lived through, what she survived. I had no clue, no reference. I’ve spent so much time with my head in the clouds, in the sand, that I’ve become insensitive to human misery. How could I be so indifferent?”

  “Stop.” Joe nabbed her wrist on her next pass and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re the most caring and tolerant woman I’ve ever known. I love how you champion goodness. I love your ability to muscle through the bad shit with a spunky spirit and endless optimism. Don’t go dark on me, Bella. The world needs you. I need you.” He palmed the back of her head, touched his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

  “I… You… You love me?”

  “God help you.”

  She kissed him. With a ferocity that damn near blew his boots off. He felt her passion and affection sparking through his spirit as she cradled his face and kissed him stupid.

  She eased back with glazed eyes, looking all sweet and sappy, and a breath away from a giddy fist pump. “Can we go back to your room now?”

  He was coldcocked and hard as a rock. His one poetic moment, history. “Uh, sure.”

  Spoken like a besotted bumbling jackass. But the hell if he cared.

  * * *

  He promised her slow. He wanted slow.

  It wasn’t easy.

  Taking his time, worshiping Bella’s body, bringing her to orgasm again and again before indulging in his own release ranked as one of the greatest challenges in Joe’s life.

  And by far the greatest pleasure.

  The scent of her skin, the sound of her moans, the feel of her legs clamping around his thighs, her hands gripping his hips, his ass, urging him closer, deeper. All these sensations and a hundred more were now etched on his mind and soul. He could make love to Bella for a lifetime. He would adore her far longer than that.

  “This is decadent,” she said with a crooked grin.

  “If this is your idea of decadent, sweetheart, you’ve got a lot of living to do.”

  “You’re right about that. Today I realized I haven’t really lived at all. I intend to change that.” She clinked her champagne flute to Joe’s. “Viva evolution.”

  He raised a brow. “That sounds like code.”

  “Angel said it. Or maybe it was Chrissy. My cousin’s finally decided to make some positive changes in her life.”

  “A popular trend.”

  “Do you always drink champagne and share a bubble bath with the women you have rocket-to-the-stars and circling-the-planets sex with?”

  Joe blinked at the change of subject. She didn’t sound jealous but she did look a little tipsy—and after only a glass and a half of Brut. “The bubble bath is a first,” he said honestly, making note of Bella’s low tolerance. Meanwhile, he enjoyed the view. Bella sitting across from him in the whirlpool, naked, her beautiful breasts only half hidden by sudsy bubbles. “And the rocket-to-the-stars and circling-the-planets sex is exclusive to you.”

  She sighed and palmed her heart. “So romantic.”

  His lip twitched. “If you say so.”

  “Sense of humor, generous heart, optimist, hard worker, kid friendly, magical kisser. That’s what I asked for and that’s what I got.” She smiled at him all dreamy-eyed. “Who says fairy tales are for children?”

  Charmed and intrigued, Joe polished off his drink then slicked back his wet hair. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.” Avoiding his gaze, she sipped more champagne.

  Joe relieved her of the glass then pulled her across the sudsy expanse until they were intimately plastered hard chest to satiny breasts.

  She locked her legs around his back, wiggled against his erection. “I’ve never done it in a whirlpool.”

  Joe smiled. “We’ll get to that, but first… What’s with the grocery list?”

  “The what? Oh. You mean my list of ideal qualities.”

  “For?”

  “Prince Charming.”

  He thought back on what she’d said. “You asked someone for Prince Charming?”

  Her pretty face flushed red. “Yes. Although, I used the term Dream Partner. An artist who could augment my stories with powerful illustrations. Someone who clicked with me professionally and, um, personally. Hence including magical kisser on my list of ideal qualities.

  “It’s embarrassing,” she went on, “because I realize now that it was selfish. I should have applied for something far more impossible. Like world peace or a disease-free nation. But what’s done is done and I’m not about to swap out this dream-come-true.”

  Bella’s words pinged back and forth inside his head as a queer feeling flowed through his body. “Hold up. You applied for the impossible?’

  She burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. “Please don’t make me share the mortifying details.”

  He gave her a squeeze.

  She grunted. “Fine. Just…don’t laugh.” Easing back, she squared her shoulders as if bracing for censure. “I was searching the internet for a dream publisher and ran across a matchmaking site. Impossible Dream dot-com.”

  “Making magic since 1956.”

  She blinked then mirrored his stunned expression. “You know of it?”

  “I applied to it.” Holy shit.

  “You applied for an impossible dream?”

  “I was drunk.”

  “Still! I can’t believe… This is… Wow. What did you apply for?”

  The tips of his ears burne
d. “God help me it’s…sappy. And talk about selfish.”

  “What was your impossible dream, Joe?”

  Her blue eyes sparkled with wonder. Or hell, maybe it was the effect of champagne. Either way, her sense of awe was infectious. He thought back on the words he’d typed into that data sheet more than a month before. “To vanquish the darkness that had seeped into my soul, hardening my heart, and twisting my perspective. To cleanse my conscience. To turn back time.”

  “Along the lines of world peace. Go, you.”

  Joe thumbed suds from Bella’s cheeks. “A week later, I received a reply directing me to the Nowhere Public Library. I went in looking for self-help books and stumbled on to you and your story hour.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “Holy something.”

  “I received a reply directing me to you. Specifically. Although they couldn’t verify magical kisser.” She traced a finger over his mouth. “You confirmed that quality in your studio. The night I wiped out on my bicycle.”

  “So that’s why you asked me to kiss you. Not because you thought you were frigid.”

  “Actually, that worry did factor in a bit. Thank you for obliterating that notion.”

  He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “My pleasure.”

  “I don’t know if it was serendipity, destiny, ID-dot-com or a combination of all three,” Bella said, “I just know we were meant to be.”

  Joe raised a brow. “Love moves in mysterious ways?”

  She smiled. “That’s what my mom always said. All I know is that my dream came true. Did yours?”

  He kissed her cheek, nipped her earlobe. “Part of it. Enough to make a difference. You’ve given me hope, Bella.”

  Sighing, she dropped her head back, allowing him access to her neck.

  He licked the slender column of her throat, nipped her chin, palmed her breast.

  She gasped then shifted, cradled the back of his neck and kissed him with slow and searing passion.

  Joe’s insides fired up and—damn—melted the last of his shielded heart. Done in by a fan-frigging-tastic kiss.