by Liz Isaacson
Her chest squeezed, but she smiled and caught hold of the bravery she needed to tell him what she’d been practicing. “Jace, I’m not planning on hurting you again.”
“I know.” He stroked his hands up and down her back, his mouth positioned just above her ear.
“So I know this has to end well—for both of us. If you need more time—at any time—or I do, we should give each other that.”
“Of course.”
“So it’s a deal?” She leaned back, because she couldn’t actually step away what with the way he held onto her so tightly.
His eyes shone with adoration; deep dark pools of desire. “Sure, Belle. It’s a deal.”
She sighed against his chest and held on, memorizing this moment so she could recall it when she needed something perfect to get her through a tough time. After several minutes, she cleared her throat. “So I did actually order pizza.”
He relinquished his vice-grip on her body, but slid his hand down to hers. “What kind?”
“If it doesn’t meet your standards, you’re welcome to leave.”
He froze and stared at her for one, two, three heartbeats before his booming laugh filled her house. “Wow, I can’t believe I said that to you.”
She smiled. “I deserved it at the time.” She flipped open the pizza box. “Meat lovers.”
He gazed at her, and Belle stared back. “You really do know me.”
“I really do. Which is why I need you here on Saturday morning at eight to get my stuff moved.” She pushed him playfully. “I know you’ll be up at the crack of dawn, so don’t pretend like eight is early.” She pointed to the paper plates so he’d get something to eat.
“Is Landon comin’ to help?”
“Yep, and my friend’s husband, Carter. Ashley will help me get this place cleaned and closed up for the summer. We’re putting sheets on the furniture and stuff.” She took a slice of pizza and pulled a bagged salad out of the fridge while he glanced around.
“It shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “I assume most of this stuff stays here.”
“I have a storage unit.”
He groaned, and she laughed. “Oh, brother. A big, strong cowboy like you can’t handle a storage unit?”
“What you got in there?”
“Antique furniture.” She grinned at the horrified look on his face. “And after you get me all set up in my new place, you can take me to lunch.”
He cracked the top on a can of soda as he sat on her couch. “I don’t see how I’m benefitting from any of this.”
She sat next to him and set her plate on the table. She carefully took his and placed it next to hers. Then she pressed into him and kissed him like she’d never kissed a man before. She liked the taste of him in her mouth, liked the way he held her carefully like he could break her with his bare hands.
“All right,” he whispered into her mouth. “I get it. Can I kiss you like this in your new place?”
“Anywhere you want, cowboy.”
He growled—a sexy, deep sound that ignited a fire in Belle’s belly—and kissed her again.
Jace shook Carter North’s hand. He knew the carpenter from odd jobs around the ranch. Carter had even shown Jace the best way to rung a fence so the snows wouldn’t deteriorate the line. Jace had taught all his cowboys, and the ranch’s fences stayed in good repair much longer.
On Thursday, when Jace had been at Belle’s, he hadn’t seen a single box. But when she opened the door on Saturday morning, the foyer held about a dozen taped and labeled boxes. He appreciated her organization and wanted to kiss her hello. But with Carter there and Carlos backing up the moving truck, Jace kept his hands to himself.
“Thanks for coming.” Belle beamed at him, a glint in her eye that said she wanted to kiss him too. “We’re just loading up here before heading over to the storage unit. Then we’ll go to my new place.”
“This is it?” Jace swept the boxes.
“I have a few more things in the garage. We should start there; that’s where the big stuff is.”
Carter obediently moved through the living room and kitchen to the garage exit. Jace heard the rumble of the door as it opened and swooped into Belle’s personal space. “Mornin’.” He gathered her close, pressing his lips to hers in that kiss he wanted. When she didn’t react as enthusiastically as she had on Thursday, he asked, “You okay?”
“Just nervous,” she whispered against his chest. She held him tighter than normal, and Jace wanted to erase all of her worries, all of her fears.
“Why?” he asked.
“New place.” She shrugged one shoulder as she stepped back a couple of inches. “Feels…grown-up.”
He scanned her face, trying to find the real problem, but he couldn’t. “You like your new place?”
“Yeah, I looked at about a half-dozen houses. This one’s nice.”
“Worried about the neighborhood?” Gold Valley didn’t have a high crime rate, but some of the neighborhoods had been around for decades and were a little run-down.
She removed herself from his embrace completely and went into the kitchen, rubbing her arms as if cold. “The neighborhood’s fine.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, Jace, okay? Just nervous.”
“Okay.” A twinge of hurt bolted through him, like a muscle spasm or a suddenly twisted ankle. He turned and stepped out of the house to find Carter and Carlos hauling a mattress up the ramp and into the truck. He joined them, getting the dresser and stationary bike loaded up. They made short work of the boxes and Belle climbed into the front of the moving truck with Carlos to direct him to the storage unit.
Only a ten-foot by ten-foot space, the three men—and Belle, who didn’t just stand by and watch—got the dining set, the side tables that Belle said she’d bought in San Francisco, various home décor items, and several more pieces onto the truck.
It was only nine-thirty when he pulled up along the curb in the part of town called Monkeytown. Jace wasn’t sure how the different neighborhoods had earned their nicknames, but everyone in Gold Valley knew them. The homes here had been around long enough to have tall, mature trees. Belle had two standing watch over her front yard.
The driveway and sidewalks had been cleared of snow, and the single garage door lifted easily. Someone had recently painted the house a neutral gray, making the gleaming white shutters stand out. With still a couple feet of snow on the ground, he couldn’t tell the condition of the lawn, but he suspected someone took care of it. The house had that feel about it.
He followed Belle through the front door while Carter and Carlos started getting out the ramp on the truck. Everything inside had been redone. There wasn’t a stitch of carpet and the walls were a blank slate for someone like Belle. The living room, kitchen, and dining nook shared the space, with a hall branching toward the left.
“Two bedrooms,” Belle said, the first thing she’d said directly to him since telling him she was nervous. “Do you like it?”
All at once, Jace knew the root of her anxiety. “Of course I like it. It’s bright and everything looks new.” He thought of his newly remodeled place. He hadn’t thought he’d like the white cupboards and laminate wood floors. But he did. And new paint and carpet in the living room and bedrooms seemed like a small change that made a huge difference. Even his loft seemed brighter with a fresh coat of eggshell-colored paint and bright blue curtains adorning the window.
He glanced through the big windows that overlooked the backyard. “Backyard’s fenced. You could get yourself a dog.” He smiled at her, but she scrunched up her nose.
“A dog?”
“Sure. One of those little ones. Shipoo or something.”
She stared at him for a moment past comfortable, then laughed and laughed. The sound of it infused his soul, and Jace knew he was in real danger of falling all the way in love with Belle. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her hair, hold her close, skim her skin with his lips.
“I c
an’t believe you know breeds like shipoo. Don’t ranchers have border collies and Labrador retrievers?”
“Sure.” Tom had a Labrador retriever, and though Jace wanted a dog, he felt guilty leaving it all day while he worked. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know about other breeds.” He took a breath and released it. “This is a great place, Belle. I think you’ll like it here. And it’s a lot closer to your office.”
“Farther from the ranch, though.” She dropped her gaze to the ground as an explosion of happiness burst in Jace’s chest.
“We have cars,” he said.
She beamed at him, and closed the space between them. She tucked her arm in his. “What if I got a cat?”
“A cat?” Pure horror snaked through him. “I don’t know about that, Belle…. Cats might be a deal-breaker.”
She narrowed her eyes. “A deal-breaker?”
“For me. I don’t know if I can be with someone who prefers cats over dogs.” He said it as seriously as he could, enjoying the confusion on her face and fear in her eyes. “I’m kidding, sunshine. You want a cat, get a cat.”
“But you don’t like cats.”
“I prefer dogs. Cats are fine.”
“Fine means not fine.”
“Only to women.” Jace threw her a wink as he opened the front door. “Now let’s get this thing unloaded and the house set up so we can go eat. I skipped breakfast and I’m starving.”
“Jace.” The childlike quality of her voice stopped him.
“Hmm?” He faced her as the doorway framed them.
“Thank you.” She stretched upon her tiptoes and kissed him. This time he felt the passion and power in her touch that he’d experienced previously.
“Happy to help,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse. “Movin’s hard.”
Belle ducked her head and fiddled with her fingers. “Not just that,” she said. “Thanks for pushing me to find a place of my own.”
His chest tightened; an alarm began whining in the back of his head. “I didn’t do that. Never even mentioned it.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said, finally lifting her gaze to his. “So thank you.” She stepped out of the house and bounced over to the other two men. She gave them both a quick squeeze and started directing them where to put the items they’d last loaded.
Jace’s lungs tangled with his intestines. He hadn’t said a word to Belle about finding her own place. Not even one time. He didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t want to be responsible for her nervousness, her unhappiness, if she didn’t like where she lived. He didn’t want her doing things just to please him, because that made her feel unauthentic. Like she wasn’t being the Belle Edmunds she was, but the Belle Edmunds she thought he wanted her to be.
No, Jace didn’t like that she’d found a place of her own because of him. Not one little bit.
13
“Thanks, guys.” Belle’s emotions lingered so close to the surface, her voice stuck in her throat and she couldn’t say much more. Carter and Carlos climbed into the now-empty moving truck and rumbled off down the street.
Jace remained inside, unloading boxes. She stood in the driveway, her arms clenched across her chest, and looked around her new neighborhood. The houses on this street seemed well cared for. The driveways were clear, the trees tall, the homes in good repair.
You’ll be happy here, she told herself. She’d felt it the first time she’d looked at this place. Knew she could be happy here—if she’d let herself. Truth was, she wasn’t sure she could support herself in Gold Valley. She worked for the design conglomerate, because she got a small percentage of their profits whether she had her own clients or not.
But she really wanted to branch out on her own. She had plans for the second bedroom. Plans to make it an office where she could design for her own clients. But in order to do that, she’d have to quit at the firm. She couldn’t ethically take their clients and make them hers. And she couldn’t quit until she finished the jobs she’d contracted. Horseshoe Home, Rimrod Lodge, and the Flathead Lake contracts still had months of work to be completed.
“You gonna stand out in the cold all day?” Jace called from her front door.
She took one last look around before heading up the sidewalk. “Let’s go to lunch,” she said.
He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Still lots to do in there. I don’t mind staying to help.”
“We got the bed set up, and the furniture in place. It’s just clothes and dishes and décor. I can do it later.”
Or not, Belle thought. She just wanted to relax for a few minutes. “I thought you said you were hungry.”
“Yeah, let me grab my keys.” He ducked back into the house, and a wave of gratitude for him washed over her. Those emotions broke the surface, and tears pricked her eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She wiped her face quickly and looked up at him. “Just…grateful for you.” A smile broke onto her face though she still felt like crying.
Jace’s concern melted into something else. She loved the softness he carried when he let himself unwind. Though he was big, and strong, and tough, he possessed a beautiful compassionate heart, a soft touch, and a truckload of passion.
He tucked her into his side. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Pancakes?” she suggested.
He groaned, which elicited a giggle from Belle. “Kidding. How about that Italian restaurant? Migliano’s? I haven’t been there in ages.”
“Are they open for lunch?” Jace asked. “I thought they were just open for dinner.”
“No, I think they’re open for lunch on the weekends.”
“Let’s try it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and didn’t relinquish the hold on her body as they moved down the sidewalk to his truck. As Belle buckled her seatbelt and watched Jace stride around the front of the vehicle, she was struck with the realization that she’d done the right thing. A peaceful, happy feeling flowed through her from top to bottom and left to right. She couldn’t help smiling, though those pesky tears pressed so close to the surface. But she didn’t care. It was okay to cry because she’d done the right thing.
Belle’s chest lifted with the quick intake of breath. Everything lately made her so emotional. The simple act of putting her own decorations on her own walls—well, her rented walls—brought her supreme satisfaction. She hadn’t realized how trapped she felt inside her parent’s house.
She enjoyed church with Jace—especially the part where he came back to her house and made her a late lunch. After that, he pulled her close to him on the couch and kissed her soundly. She definitely enjoyed that part.
She’d spent a couple of days out at the ranch early in the week. The painting in the last cowboy cabins was going well, and should be finished by the end of next week. The carpets and curtains had been installed in half of the cabins, with the remaining structures expected to be finished from top to bottom five weeks from now, right on schedule.
She spent Wednesday at the Rimrod Lodge, where all the measurements had been taken, and double-checked, and recorded. She’d spent Thursday entering the orders for the new tiles that mimicked hardwood, the carpet, and the wallpaper. She loved the design Tilly had chosen, and Belle couldn’t wait to see it in the guest rooms. The artwork would be ordered in a month or so when the rooms were mostly done, as would the new light fixtures.
After dialing Tilly and getting no answer, Belle left a message. “I’ll stop by on Monday morning—after check-out, of course—to confirm the furnishings for the front lobby. I think you’re going to love them.”
Then she tossed her purse over her shoulder and picked up the lunch she’d packed for herself and headed out to her car for the long drive to Flathead Lake. She’d booked a room at the Hotel and Spa—as well as a facial and a full pedicure. She often stayed as a guest in the hotels she’d been hired to redesign, and for the first time since she’d booked the job, excitement danced through her at the idea of driving to Flathead Lake
.
She sang along to the radio as she crossed the Native American reservation and continued north around the tip of the lake to the hotel. The owner knew she was coming, as evidenced by her overly friendly greeting at check-in and the local, gourmet chocolates on the desk in her room.
She took in the details of the standard guest room. Worn carpet in a bland shade of brown that would have to be replaced. She understood why a darker color had been chosen, but she also envisioned a brighter, more welcoming room with carpet the color of oatmeal. In fact, she’d just seen a dark-flecked cereal-colored carpet in her catalog a couple of days ago. It would be perfect here.
The wallpaper felt like sandpaper, and her fingers itched to pull it back and see what was hidden beneath. Maybe she could texturize and paint the walls a soft blue, or maybe gray, or perhaps peach. Depending on the shape of the sub-wall, anything was possible. If it turned out that painting couldn’t be done, she could at least update the wallpaper to something from the last decade.
The sofa had seen better days and the light fixtures functioned, but neither added aesthetic value to the room. And guests noticed things like that. She lifted the cushion on the couch to find a sleeper sofa, but she knew she could do better.
The desk, bureau, wardrobe, and television were standard. She wouldn’t touch them unless they needed repair. Well, maybe she’d put in new smart TVs. Something that could connect to a phone or a computer or a camera.
“And charging ports,” she murmured as she pulled her phone out and couldn’t find anywhere to plug it in.
Little things made all the difference. Belle knew this, had lived and breathed it for five years in Sacramento. She changed out of her work shoes and into a comfy pair of boots. If she had to drive two hours to her remodel, she might as well check out the local attractions.
Outside, the early April wind chafed her face, but it wasn’t as bitter and biting as it had been a month ago. She wandered past the town hall building, which stood three stories tall and boasted a library on the third floor. The fire station sat next door, with a park beside that.