by Liz Isaacson
“Thanks, Calvin.” Belle hung up. The minutes blurred into hours, and still Jace hadn’t called. Belle toyed with the idea of calling him herself, but she didn’t trust herself not to demand that he tell her what he’d decided about working with her on the reno.
She didn’t want to hear him say he couldn’t. The silence meant she could still hope that he would decide to work with her on the ranch.
After she arrived at home, she made herself a BLT salad and went down the hall to her bedroom to eat. The house seemed to swallow her. Overlarge for just one person, Belle felt safest in her bedroom.
She’d just started to doze when her phone rang. Jace’s name on her screen made anticipation skip into adrenaline.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s about time you called. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” As soon as her sentence ended, she realized what she’d said.
“You have, have you?” He chuckled. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”
“Not like that,” she hurried to add, though if she were being honest, there was a little fantasizing about him mixed in with the desperation and worry that he’d choose to assign Landon to the reno.
“Like what then?”
“Are you going to work with me or not?”
“Well, when you ask like that, I’m not so sure.”
“Jace.”
“Belle.”
“You’re a stubborn man.”
“And you’re fun to tease.”
“I was asleep, you know.”
“Asleep?” Disbelief tainted his voice. “Belle, it’s seven-thirty.”
“I know what time it is.”
“Will we need to go to dinner before four o’clock to get the early-bird special?” He laughed, this time a full laugh she didn’t recognize.
“They wouldn’t let your baby face in,” she said.
“But we can go to dinner, right?”
“Tonight? I already ate.” Her brain ran on overdrive, trying to figure out what he was asking.
“How ‘bout tomorrow, then?”
“Jace, are you gonna work with me or assign Landon to the reno?”
“You’ll have to wait until dinner tomorrow to find out.”
“Jace.”
“I’ll swing by your office at three-thirty. Or will that be too late? Want to make sure I get you home in enough time to get your beauty rest.”
“I don’t need beauty rest,” she snapped.
“You’re right about that, sunshine.”
Belle’s brain tripped. She couldn’t think. Nothing came out of her mouth. “Are you calling me pretty?”
“I probably would’ve used beautiful. But pretty works.”
“Sunshine?” Her mind had just caught up to that part of what he’d said.
“Belle, I have to go. My brother just walked in.” He hung up before she could say another word. She took the phone from her ear and stared at it as the call disconnected. What in the world was going on?
6
Jace paced in his living room. His empty living room. He had no idea where Tom was and he said, “Please forgive me for lyin’,” as he spun on his heel and headed back the way he’d come.
He had no idea where the words he’d spoken had come from. Had he really invited Belle to dinner? Called her beautiful? Given her a pet name?
He groaned, flopped onto the couch, and ran his hands over his face. He’d just wanted to let her know that he’d decided to play point on the renovation. Number one, he didn’t have a whole lot to do in the winter. Number two, well, every number after one was filled with the fact that he liked Belle.
There, he’d admitted it. He liked Belle Edmunds. He liked her smile. He liked the sound of her voice over the phone. He liked the sweet perfume she wore.
Another guttural noise tore from his mouth. He couldn’t believe he was even considering another relationship. After Wendy, well, he didn’t think he’d ever want another woman in his life. He wrestled with what he wanted for the rest of the evening, most of the night, and all the way through breakfast.
And he still didn’t know.
He left the ranch in the capable hands of Landon—who lounged in the large room with a dozen other cowboys, watching episode after episode of some sitcom—and drove into town. This time when he parked in front of Belle’s building, he felt no tightening in his chest. No shortness of breath. Nothing.
He still didn’t quite understand why he’d reacted the way he had. At three-thirty, he texted her, and a few minutes later, she emerged from the building. He watched her strut toward him, her long skirt almost dragging on the sidewalk. She looked sophisticated wearing all black, with that bright yellow purse draped over her forearm. Jace glanced down at his jeans and leather jacket. She outclassed him in every sense of the word.
She flashed a smile and climbed into the truck. “Where are we going to dinner?”
“Only the buffet gives senior citizen discounts.”
“Better be prepared to get carded.”
“You really think I have a baby face?”
She stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Long enough for him to maneuver through the lot to the exit. Long enough for him to turn into traffic. Long enough to make him squirm.
“Nah, I guess not.”
“Sorry I called you pretty.” His fingers clenched. “I mean—”
“You’re sorry you called me pretty?”
“I just mean—”
She waited for him to go on, but he had no idea what to say. “Landon has too much to do on the ranch. I’ll be working with you.”
The sun didn’t stand a chance next to her beaming face. “That’s great.”
They arrived at the buffet and Jace offered Belle his arm as they started toward the entrance. Thankfully, she took it. The mere weight of her arm in his made his blood flow faster. He held open the door with one hand and slipped his fingers into hers.
Her eyes locked with his, and he squeezed her hand before releasing it. In that single breath, he’d seen what he needed to.
Sure, Jace liked Belle.
And she liked him too.
“I’m heading into the valley.” Jace shrugged into his coat as he passed Landon’s desk.
“Again?”
A sigh escaped his lips though Jace tried to hold it in. “Yeah. Apparently, my opinion on the carpet is necessary.” Belle had insisted he accompany her on every shopping trip, preview every paint color, authorize every purchase. The first week it had been cute, enjoyable even.
Now, as the end of the second week approached, driving into town felt like a chore. But he did have an inexplicable urge to see Belle, hold her hand—which she’d let him do several times as they wandered through huge warehouses full of furnishings—and breathe in her calming scent.
He didn’t dare do much more than twine his fingers with hers. He didn’t put his arm around her. He didn’t walk her to the door. He didn’t ask her out beyond their work excursions. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Some invisible force held him back, pushed against his desire to start a new relationship.
He knew what that force was. Wendy Suman. The woman had ruined him, and Jace didn’t trust himself to make smart decisions when it came to dating. The fact that he wanted to get to know Belle also unsettled him. He’d known her for years and had never once looked at her the way he was now. In fact, he’d never even gotten along all that great with her. Everything in his world felt upside down, and he was still trying to figure out how to move forward.
Belle met him on the curb—she always did—or at a specified location. He hadn’t told her he didn’t want to come back up to her office, but she had a sixth sense about such things.
“Morning,” she said as she adjusted her seat belt.
“Mornin’.”
“So I’ve found three carpets I think would work.” She glanced at him, and she seemed nervous.
“Okay.” He turned onto the street and enjoyed the frozen-over river out his window. A strong sense of no
stalgia engulfed him, reminding him of how much he loved Montana, even in the thick of January.
Jace whistled to himself as they drove, as Belle directed him toward the warehouse where he’d spent yesterday afternoon. At least it was heated. “Couldn’t we have looked at these yesterday?”
Belle looked at him as she slid out of the truck, her eyes wide and round. “Am I taking you from your work on the ranch?”
“Yep.” He rounded the truck and hooked his arm through hers. “But it’s okay. You’re not the worst company I’ve had today.”
“Oh, that’s so comforting. I know the kind of riffraff you hang out with.”
“Landon is riffraff? What does that make you? And who says riffraff?” He laughed, enjoying the feeling all the way down to his cowboy boots. He hadn’t laughed in a really long time. Truly laughed at something he found funny.
In truth, he hadn’t lived in a really long time. “Thanks for inviting me,” he said. “I do want to see the carpets.”
“You do not.” Her pace increased, but Jace had long legs too.
“I do. It’s better than submitting paperwork for paychecks.”
“You seemed kind of upset.”
“Not upset.” He opened the door and she entered in front of him. He sidled up next to her, but kept his hands to himself. “Just…do you bring all your clients to pick out every aspect of their project?”
She didn’t, and she didn’t even have to say anything for him to know. He could read it on her face. “Why you askin’ me to come along all the time?”
She swallowed, took several more steps. “Look, you’re my first client since—” Her lips pressed together and her already-fair complexion turned almost transparent.
“Since what?”
“Since nothing.” She glanced around and seized upon the first person she saw—a janitor, from the looks of him. She made a beeline for him, leaving Jace wondering what she didn’t want him to know.
He wouldn’t get her to tell him, he knew that. The woman was determined if nothing else. So the next two hours became hyper-focused on carpets, and pilling, and fibers, and other things Jace didn’t know and didn’t care about.
When Belle asked him to lunch, surprise shot through Jace. He wasn’t sure why. He’d seen the edge in her eyes. But still, he didn’t see himself as someone who would interest a woman like Belle. He wanted to ask her what she saw in him, but they’d just started getting along.
And he did need to eat.
“Sure, lunch sounds great.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “You payin’?”
“You’d make a lady pay?”
He glanced around. “Don’t see a lady.”
Her outraged gasp made him laugh again. When he quieted, he said, “I just see a beautiful woman. I guess I can pay for her.”
A flush rose in Belle’s cheeks, and she slipped her hand into his. Nothing more needed to be said.
Belle had no idea what she was doing. Did this strange banter count as flirting? She wasn’t quite sure what else to do with Jace. With her previous boyfriend, their connection had been about the ocean, and gourmet coffees, and the client they both wanted to please. Casual dinners had become romantic quickly, and Belle could see the same thing happening with Jace.
If only she’d let it. Something inside her held her back from fully flirting with him. He obviously found her attractive, and they hadn’t been fighting as much. She liked the strength of his fingers between hers, and found herself fantasizing about doing more than just holding hands. At the same time, she wasn’t sure beginning a relationship with him was wise. He seemed…broken in a lot of ways, yet completely whole in others.
Having his fiancé leave him on their wedding day had to have shattered him and she didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish. Not again. No, she was determined to go slow with every man, really learn more about them—and herself—before getting serious. After all, Belle had run the rat race of dating and breaking up enough times to be weary of it. Weary of her own shortcomings. Weary of dealing with conflicting feelings and trying to figure out when to reveal what information.
After all, she didn’t really want Jace to know she didn’t have much money. While she could probably afford lunch at the pancake house, it would definitely hit her budget for other things. At least until the commission came in for the Horseshoe Home account.
She’d already determined to save almost all of it. She was done living it up every time she got a paycheck and then pinching pennies between jobs.
“You alive over there?” Jace’s question startled her out of her thoughts. “We’ve been sitting here for five minutes.”
She glanced at him and then out the windshield. “This isn’t the pancake house.”
“It’s lunchtime.”
“You’ve never had breakfast for lunch?”
“Why would someone do that?”
“It’s popular. In Sacramento, there are entire eateries that serve breakfast all day long.”
“Eateries?” A chuckle rode in his voice. “And I don’t normally do something just because it’s popular.”
“Are you even human? Have you never wanted pancakes for dinner?”
“No, I can honestly say I’ve never craved pancakes for dinner. In fact, I don’t even like pancakes for breakfast.”
“Now I know you’re not human.” She unbuckled and reached for the door handle. “It’s un-American not to like pancakes.”
“Not much of a bacon fan either,” he called as she slid to the ground.
She turned and gaped at him. “I think we should stop talking. Next thing you say might be something completely insane like ‘I hate chocolate.’”
Jace opened his mouth, said, “I only like certain kinds of chocolate,” and then laughter came out. The sound made her heart tremor with anticipation, with sheer desire. She wanted to hear that laugh everyday. She needed to hear it everyday.
She stumbled backward, closed the door, and smoothed down her hair. Her plan to have him come to town and participate in things she normally did herself seemed to have worked. He came when she called, and he seemed to have a good time with her as they wandered through warehouses and pored over paint chips.
She’d always known that he’d figure out that she didn’t usually involve her clients this way. She’d done it partly to spend time with him, but a bigger part of her couldn’t make a decision. She didn’t want to make a mistake on his project. She couldn’t afford to fail.
Her chest rumbled with anxiety as she stepped through the frozen parking lot. So much of her self-worth was tied up in being a good interior designer. When she’d lost her job in Sacramento, she’d lost her confidence too. She didn’t know how to make decisions for a project, because she didn’t want to choose the wrong item.
Inside the diner, she ordered the biggest stack of pancakes and an additional side of bacon and enjoyed the horrified look on Jace’s face. He ordered a boring club sandwich with French fries. Total lunch food.
She gave him an exaggerated sigh and handed her menu to the waitress. “You can make a turkey sandwich at home.”
“I learned to make pancakes when I was seven years old.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “And you just paid—well, I just paid—eight bucks for four of them. Seems unbelievable.” He flashed her a smile that made her insides liquefy. She returned it and quickly dropped her gaze to the table.
“Why don’t you like pancakes?”
Jace shifted in his seat and reached for the artificial sugar packets in the center of the table. He pinched a couple between his fingers and played with them. “For a while there, we ate pancakes for every meal. It was all I knew how to make.”
Belle frowned, his mannerisms screaming a warning. “You made them?”
“After my mom left, there wasn’t anyone else to cook.” He cleared his throat. “Then Tom suggested we try borrowing a cookbook, so we did that. We gradually got better at cooking.”
Belle’s he
art sped. She’d known Jace and Tom didn’t live with their mother, but she hadn’t known why. “Your mom…she left?”
Jace’s dark eyes met Belle’s, and she saw all the way into his soul. “Up and left one day. Hardest thing I’ve ever been through. Well, until—” He clamped his lips together.
“Until Wendy.” Belle reached for the sugar packets too, the pressure in her chest just tight enough to be uncomfortable.
“Mom came back a couple of summers ago, when my dad fell and broke his hip. It’s been a slow process, but I figured out how to forgive her.”
Belle abandoned the packets and found him watching her openly again. “You did?”
“Tom’s had a harder time. She dropped us at school one day and never came to pick us up.”
Belle didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” couldn’t adequately convey her horror at what he must’ve felt, what he must’ve gone through. And Wendy leaving him had hurt even more.
“How are things going with forgiving Wendy?” She barely gave air to the question, but she had to ask it.
Jace’s eyes stormed, his jaw tightened, and Belle had her answer. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.” She took a deep breath and pushed it out. “You’re better than me. Someone betrayed me in Sacramento, and I haven’t forgiven them.” She glanced away as she realized something else. “Haven’t even tried.”
An image of Beau flashed through her mind. Tall, blond, surfer-boy muscles—and one of the most talented designers in California. He’d been at the company for five years before Belle arrived, and he still had the corner office she’d coveted.
Jace’s warm fingers danced over hers. “Forgiveness is a hard thing.”
“Is it?” She hated the press of tears lingering just beneath the surface. “You’ve done it.”
“It took a long time.” He tightened his hold on her hand. “Who do you need to forgive?”
Pure panic—and a lot of it—passed through her bloodstream. “I—no one.”