“I won’t hold you up,” Dad replied. “You kids have fun. Bellamy, I’ll see you when you get home.”
Tate held the door open for me, and we made our escape, stepping out onto the porch. Dad watched from behind the screen door while we walked to the car, and I waved as we pulled off in the direction of downtown.
“Holy crap,” Tate said, exhaling with relief once we’d made it up the street. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that nervous picking a girl up for a date. I was afraid I would say something stupid and make your dad hate me.”
Glancing over, I took in his navy blue shirt and carefully combed hair. Deep waves undulated through the strands, which glimmered in the light of the street lamp shining through the driver’s side window.
“Tate, you’ve met my dad before,” I reminded him. “Besides, I happen to know that you dated a lot of girls when you were still in school.”
He slouched a bit in the driver’s seat, more relaxed now that we were alone. It made me feel more comfortable, too. It had been silly to be nervous about going on a date with a guy I had already started to get to know. We’d spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks. The only difference now was that we’d put a label on this night, referring to it as an actual date.
“Yeah, well, I never liked those girls the way I like you,” he said. “And with my reputation, I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t trust you within a mile of me.”
We had arrived at the theater, and Tate smoothly pulled his car into a space close to the front. I reached out and placed a hand on his leg, drawing his attention to me.
“Your past is behind you,” I insisted. “I’m not going to hold it against you, and neither will my dad. He trusts me to make good choices, and I consider giving you a chance to be one of my better decisions.”
He leaned closer to me over the center console, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “Thank you for that. I know I don’t deserve—”
I cut him off with a quick kiss. “Stop that.”
“Mmm,” he mumbled against my lips. “Stop what?”
“Being so hard on yourself,” I clarified. “I like you for who you are now, and that’s all that matters.”
He kissed me back, and then pulled away with a nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop doing that.”
“Good,” I said, reaching for my car door. “We better hurry if we want to hit the concession stand. M&Ms are a must, right?”
He laughed, leaving the car on his side while I did the same on mine. “Definitely.”
Reaching for my hand when I rounded the car to his side, he twined his fingers through mine and guided me through the parking lot toward the theater.
The person working the ticket counter stared, slack-jawed, at Tate when we approached, but he pretended not to notice while buying our tickets. The same thing happened in the concession line—the people working—as well as those standing in line—gaped at him without even trying to hide it. A few even whispered behind their hands, and I heard his name drop from a few mouths. Word would spread fast that Tate Baldwin had come out of hiding.
Noticing the tightness pulling at the corners of his mouth and clenched jaw, I reached out to help him by grabbing our sodas while he took up the popcorn and candy.
“Are you okay?” I whispered. “We can leave if you want.”
Pausing on our way toward the podium and the person checking tickets, he turned to face me. “I’m fine. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no one here but you and me.”
I smiled, encouraged by that. It had occurred to me to ask him if we could go someplace more private, but I hadn’t wanted him to think it was because I didn’t want to be seen with him. This was a huge step for him, going on a date for the first time in two years, plus allowing himself to be in a very public place with his face on full display.
Squaring my shoulders and lifting my head, I walked beside him to the theater playing our movie. I’d never been prouder to be with someone in my life. I felt honored that he would let me be part of his transition from the shadows and out into the light. I held no delusions that he was doing it for me—this was something Tate needed to do for himself.
We decided to sit in one of the upper rows, as Tate claimed being too close to the screen was hard on his sensitive eyes. He’d taken his glasses off after driving us here, but kept them hooked in the neckline of his shirt—he’d need them to see the screen. As we ascended the steps to the seats we’d spotted in the last row, we spotted Lincoln sitting with a big group of kids from school. He had one arm around the girl sitting to his right, but the other rested close to his body, cradled in a sling.
Someone spotted us and began nudging Lincoln to point us out. He scowled when we made eye contact, but I looked away, concentrating on not tripping up the steps. By the time we reached our seats, the entire group had grown aware of our presence. They were whispering among themselves while staring at us with undisguised curiosity. A few snickers passed between them, but Tate either didn’t hear them or was really good at pretending he couldn’t.
The previews started not long after we sat, and I was relieved for the surround sound and darkened room offering some relief from all the scrutiny. Was this what it was like to be one of the ‘in’ crowd? People talking about your every move? Speculating about your actions? Treating you like a stranger once you left the inner circle?
I supposed it really couldn’t be as great as it seemed. For once, I was grateful to be a nobody. Except, if I was going to date Tate Baldwin, I wouldn’t be a nobody for long. The talk about me would shift from speculation over whether I was crazy like my dad, to how I ended up with the rich hermit from the top of the hill. I wasn’t certain if the change would prove to be any better.
Once the movie began, I focused on it and forgot about everything else. It was a comedy, which had been a good choice because it erased a lot of the tension surrounding our arrival at the theater. By the end, I realized I’d heard Tate laugh out loud more times than I ever had, and that made the date a success no matter what else might have happened.
By the time we left the theater and began our walk back to the car, it was ten-thirty.
“Well, we still have an hour and a half before you have to be home,” Tate said, draping one arm across my shoulders. “Which means we have plenty of time for your surprise.”
I frowned. “Surprise? I thought we were going to Charlene’s after.”
“Trust me,” he said with a grin that told me he was up to something. “You want this surprise.”
I gave him a wary glance from the corner of my eye. “It better be good. I’m giving up apple pie for it.”
He laughed as we arrived back at the car. “It’s better than Charlene’s apple pie. Oh,” he added once we were inside. “You have to wear this.”
My eyes widened when he held up what looked like a black blindfold. “Kinky.”
Laughing, he handed it to me. “Nah, that’s more of a fifth date thing. This is just so you can’t see where we’re going and guess the surprise before I’m ready to show you.”
I relented and put on the blindfold, wondering what Tate had up his sleeve. The car ride seemed to take forever, each turn of the car making me antsy about where we were headed. To make matters worse, Tate fell silent during the drive, leaving only the radio filling in the silence.
By the time we came to a stop, my clenched hands were shaking in my lap.
“Keep that on,” Tate urged me as I reached up to remove the blindfold.
Groaning, I dropped my hands back into my lap and waited. I heard the sound of Tate leaving his side of the car and the jingle of his keys as he came around to get me. My vision still impaired, I allowed him to help me from the car, and then guide me forward with his hands on my shoulders. The ground beneath my feet wasn’t concrete, nor was it gravel. Dirt, I realized, which eventually gave way to grass, and then more dirt. Where the heck were we?
Finally, we stopped and Tate turned me in the direction of
whatever it was I was supposed to be seeing. There was another pause that seemed to stretch on forever, and I was two seconds away from snatching off the blindfold. But then, Tate’s hands gently pulled it away from my eyes.
We stood in the middle of the fairgrounds, with the majority of the rides and booths broken down, their pieces being loaded onto massive trucks to be hauled away. However, looming several feet over us, the Ferris wheel still stood, its light casting a white glow over us.
Mouth hanging open, I turned to Tate. “What is this?”
He shrugged, gesturing toward the gray-haired man in coveralls standing in the control booth of the ride. “Well, I came down here last night before they closed down and talked to my guy Rick over there. He drives a hard bargain, but I eventually got him to let me pay to keep the Ferris wheel up after everything shut down.”
I grinned, glancing back up at the empty Ferris wheel. “You remembered.”
Nodding, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I felt bad about not coming after you suggested it, so I wanted to make it up to you. You did say this was your favorite thing, so… here we go. It’s all ours as long as we want.”
Taking my hand, he gave me a little tug, reminding me I needed to make my feet move if I wanted to actually get on the thing. Rick came out of his booth, giving me a smile as he opened the gate to let us in.
“You were right, young man,” he said to Tate. “She is a looker.”
Glancing at Tate, I found him giving me a sheepish smile and shrug. “I told Rick I had to have the Ferris wheel tonight, because I had a date with the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”
My grin was so wide I was surprised it didn’t tear my face in half. Taking Tate’s hand, I followed him to the car, which was open and waiting for us. He stood back and gestured for me to get in first, and then followed. Rick made sure we were buckled in before closing the compartment and checking to make sure everything was secure.
“I’ll let you get some time at the top,” Rick called as he walked back to his booth. “Scream for help if the boy gets fresh, Miss!”
Laughing, I turned to glance at Tate. “You heard the man.”
Holding both hands up, he smirked. “Best behavior, hands to myself.”
After another moment of waiting, the wheel creaked and groaned, then we were moving, floating forward and up. I gripped the rail laid across our laps and stared out over the field looming below us, then farther out at Wellhollow Springs, the streetlamps and traffic lights causing it to glow in the distance.
“I can see why you like this,” he said as we continued, up and up. “It’s nice.”
I nodded. “I always thought it was amazing. I like feeling as if I’m closer to the stars.”
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry about what happened at the theater. All the staring and whispers. I expected it, but I didn’t think about how you might feel about so many people gaping at us. I’ll understand if you don’t want to go out with me again after that.”
“Are you insane?” I asked. “You rented a Ferris wheel for me. Why wouldn’t I want to go out with you again?”
He shrugged, avoiding my gaze to glance up. “I’m aware of what dating someone like me could mean for you. It won’t be easy, and the last thing I want is for you to be hurt.”
Placing my hand over his on the rail, I spread my fingers out until each of mine lay on top of each of his. “Most of them are curious about you, not me. I’m not the kind of person people notice, Tate.”
Turning his head, he met my gaze. “Are you really that unaware of how beautiful you are? Bell, people notice you. Even though I didn’t want to the first time we met, I noticed you. And it’s not just because you’re physically pretty… you have this glow that comes from the inside. The kind of person you are shows through.”
I could feel my mouth going dry, my throat seizing again, and a feeling like the start of tears pricking my eyes. I cleared my throat and blinked, trying not to lose my cool. No guy had ever talked to me the way Tate did, and as good as it felt, it also left me unsettled.
“Lincoln noticed you, too,” he pointed out. “You guys dated, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far. We went on a date, and only one of us had a good time.”
Tate’s grip on the rail tightened and his jaw ticked. “He didn’t… hurt you… did he?”
Shaking my head, I moved my fingers back and forth over his in a soothing gesture, trying to reel him in before he jumped to conclusions. “No, he didn’t. We went to dinner and a movie, and he spent most of the night talking about himself and trying to feel me up. I’d driven myself, so after the movie was over, I left him standing in the parking lot and took myself home. He’s been trying to get me to give him another chance, but I’m not interested.”
Tate nodded once, a bit of tension still stiffening his shoulders and neck. “Good. Lincoln doesn’t handle rejection well, and girls who say no to him… well, let’s just say they don’t all make a clean getaway like you did.”
An acrid taste crept into my mouth at the implications of what Tate was saying. I’d known Lincoln was bad news, but I hadn’t realized how bad. My face must have clued Tate in on the direction of my thoughts, because he suddenly touched my shoulder.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just don’t like the idea of Lincoln anywhere near you.”
“Well, he never really got that close. Anyway, I’m not with him, I’m with you. I want to be with you, and I don’t care about people staring or whispering. I’m used to it, remember?”
His mouth curved into a little smile, and he nodded. “You amaze me sometimes, you know.”
Leaning against him, I trailed my hand up his arm to his shoulder, urging him toward me. “Well, I am pretty amazing.”
His hand moved across this rail, and then dropped to my thigh. Gripping my hip, he pulled me closer until our lips brushed.
“I’m going to call Rick and tell him you’re being fresh,” I murmured.
“You started it,” he mumbled, taking my mouth with short, openmouthed kisses.
“Tate?” I whispered, tangling my fingers in his hair.
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed against my mouth, but pulled me even closer, wrapping an arm around me. Our seat swayed, but I’d never felt safer. Obeying my command, he kissed me again, this time long and deep. Above us, the moon loomed bright, the stars twinkling like diamonds. Never had any moment felt more perfect.
Carefully balancing the wooden tray I carried with one hand, I knocked on the door to Tate’s bedroom. For a moment, I worried he hadn’t heard it, but, eventually, his weakened voice called out to me from the other side.
“Come in.”
I pushed the door open, and then went back to a two-handed grip on the tray. The lights were off and the curtains closed, so it took a moment for me to adjust to the dark. I found him in bed, lying propped up on several pillows with his eyes closed.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice at a low whisper.
Max had informed me when I’d arrived that Tate was fighting off a migraine, thus my lowered voice and the dimmed lights.
Opening his eyes, he looked up as I approached the bed, laying the tray on his nightstand. “Hey, you. What are you doing up here?”
“Hilda was going to bring you lunch, but I volunteered. The kids are busy eating, so I thought I’d come up here to see how you’re doing.”
Glancing at the tray, he didn’t seem very interested in lunch. The eye on the deformed side of his face drooped, the eyelid lowered over it more than usual. He was exhausted.
“I won’t stay long,” I said.
“Come here,” he mumbled, reaching out one arm.
I stepped up to his bedside, letting him grab my arm and pull me down until I was sitting on the mattress. Giving me another tug, he urged me to lie down, pulling my head against his chest.
“Don’t go yet,” he
said. “Tell me what else you’ve found about Camila Vasquez. Anything good?”
I nodded, the fabric of his T-shirt soft against my cheek. “Yes, but you don’t need to worry about that right now.”
“I need something to distract me from the feeling of a jackhammer chipping away at my skull,” he answered dryly. “Tell me.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Last night, I Googled Camila. There wasn’t much to see—not even a Facebook page or Instagram account. With her being an FBI agent, I guess that makes sense.”
Tate shrugged. “Probably didn’t have much time for social media.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “There’s more. She lived in Virginia, but she grew up in Fayehill.”
“Isn’t that just up the road?”
“Yep. About a five-hour drive from here. There was a story about her online from the Fayehill Chronicle about her death. Turns out, we were right. She was in Wellhollow on a case—but the article didn’t say what the case might be. But then, the article mentioned her family, which included a sister who had died just a few short months before her.”
He wrinkled his brow and frowned. “Okay, that can’t be a coincidence.”
“Nope,” I agreed. “So, I looked up the name—Isabella Vasquez, and guess what I found?”
“The nightgown ghost?” he ventured.
“Precisely,” I confirmed. “Turns out she hung herself in her apartment, which was right here in town.”
“Do you think that’s the case Camila was investigating?” he asked. “Doesn’t make sense. Someone hangs themselves, that seems like a pretty cut-and-dry case.”
“That’s where I’m getting stuck,” I admitted. “I think if we can find out what Camila was investigating, it might point us in the right direction. I mean, maybe someone did something to Isabella that made her want to kill herself.”
“How do we figure out what case she was working on?” Tate murmured. “It’s not like we can just call the FBI and ask.”
“Maybe she worked with the local police on her case,” I offered. “Isn’t that what cops do? Call in the feds when something big happens?”
Bellamy and the Brute Page 19