Melody was smiling and signing.
“What’s she saying?” Savage asked.
“She likes the fairy wings,” Chrissy said.
“Angel wings,” he corrected, gracing Melody with a kind smile. “Avenging angel.”
The artwork was spectacular. Bella had admired it the night before. A little vicious for her taste, but the colors and details were magnificent and the message telling.
“Leaving out the avenging part,” Chrissy said with a frown then stooped down to sign
angel wings
to Melody who signed back. “She says they’re pretty. Like you.”
Emma snorted.
Savage crooked an awkward smile.
Bella palmed her heart. Though he hadn’t said directly, she suspected kids made him uncomfortable. She’d sensed it at the library and again when going through Mike’s boxes. Photo after photo of happy kids. He’d frosted over every time she’d shown him one. Yet his manner and expression for Melody was beyond gentle.
“Anyone have a pad and pen?” he asked.
“I do,” Bella said. She always kept them handy to jot down story ideas. Dipping into her messenger bag, she moved toward Savage on noodly legs. She could scarcely breathe. Georgie was right. She had it bad. A jolt of desire zapped her senses when his fingers brushed hers. She stood there like an idiot, staring—like everyone else—as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head then drew something on the pad.
Seconds later, he tore off the paper, handed the pad and pen to Bella and the drawing to Melody.
Melody stared at the paper, beaming.
Bella itched to lean down for a peek.
Melody must have sensed her burning curiosity because she thrust her sketched treasure at Bella, signing:
Story
?
It was their thing. Melody loved to draw and she knew Bella made up stories, so sometimes she’d show Bella a picture and Bella would improvise. A spontaneous tale easily signed or acted out. Just now she was buzzing with wonder. Savage had gifted the little girl with an inked fairy that contrasted greatly with his persona and any of his other artwork—at least the art she’d seen. This sketch was adorably cartoonish and sweet. And it jogged her writer’s block! Her heart sang as a fractured fairy tale sprang to mind.
Our first collaboration
.
Carson, damn him, the thought of him loomed over her head like a dark cloud, ruining the moment by distracting Bella with a sense of urgency.
As if knowing her thoughts, Chrissy interceded, smiling at her daughter and telling her, “Later,” then nodding toward Savage.
Picking up on her mom’s meaning, Melody hugged the drawing to her heart then looked up and Savage and signed:
Thank you
.
Chrissy translated for Savage then answered his obvious but unspoken question by demonstrating how to sign:
You’re welcome
.
He mimicked the simple hand gesture and Bella fell head over heels over heart for—as Chrissy had called him—the hard-ass ex-cop with the big-ass chip on his shoulder.
She would have been giddy if not for her crisis.
She had to set Carson straight once and for all. He had to move on. Bella was in love with an avenging angel.
She glanced toward the sound of music. The band appearing before the Cougars. She swiped her sweaty palms down the rear of her jeans. “I have to go.”
Savage swung off his bike. “I’ll walk you over.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bella found Carson backstage.
She wanted to puke. She was that nervous. Not about ruining his dazzling to-do. But about digging deep and being brutally honest. Or maybe coldly blunt would work better. She had no experience with stubborn suitors. She’d never had an ugly break-up. Past relationships had either fizzled or ended quickly. Either way, parting had been mutual and friendly.
Carson was like a dog with a bone.
Bella was done being dogged.
“You’ve had this conversation with him before, right?” Savage said close to her ear.
Bella leaned in and even though she was practically shouting, she was certain no one, other than Savage heard. The decibel level of the performing group was off the charts. “I expressed myself in an honest and thoughtful way. That wasn’t easy for me. I didn’t talk tough, as Chrissy said, but I was clear about not loving him and wanting to end the relationship. He’s not listening to me.”
“Remember when you gave me hell? Channel that ferocity, Bella. He’ll get the message.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Call in reinforcements.” He palmed the small of her back. “Go get him, Tiger.”
She’d never thought of herself as fierce, but it pleased her that Savage did. It felt like a compliment. It boosted her confidence. She mentally chanted a new mantra—
I’m fierce
!—followed by a dozen of her mom’s clichés pertaining to strength and courage.
Bella excused herself as she squeezed past stagehands and sidestepped audio equipment. By the time she reached Carson—who was in deep discussion with Helen Lupine, the lead fiddler of the Country Cougars—she’d worked herself into righteous ball of fury. She tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned, clearly stunned by her presence. “Bella. What are you doing back here, honey? What… What happened to your forehead?” He frowned. “And your hands?”
“A biking mishap. It’s nothing. I’m fine. I need to speak with you.”
“You’re supposed to be out front.”
“So you can manipulate me in front of hundreds of people?” She looked past his business-clad body—who wore a suit and tie to an outdoor festival, for goodness sake?—to the stymied Cougar. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lupine, but I need to speak with Carson in private. I’m a huge fan, by the way,” she said before tugging her stubborn ex aside.
She glanced back as she led him down the steps. Savage had her in sight. She trusted he’d keep it that way as she led Carson toward a more secluded spot. It wasn’t quiet exactly, but at least she could hear herself think.
Before she could speak, he swept aside her bangs. “Did you see a doctor? Are there stitches?”
“No stitches.” She nudged aside his hand, unsettled by his concern.
Not a bad guy, just the wrong guy
, she reminded herself. For months Carson’s touch offered comfort and distraction. Now all she felt was numb. That she’d cooled to him so fast and so completely was further proof that their relationship had never been an affair of the heart. She’d used him and it shamed her. Then again he’d taken advantage of her vulnerable state, fully committed to wooing a woman his father would’ve approved of. A woman with a stellar reputation—respected and adored by most everyone in town. Just thinking about the calculated seduction made her blood boil. “Please don’t touch me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Carson asked. “You look as mad as a hornet.”
“More like a whole nest of hornets. I thought you were a nice man.”
“I am a nice man.”
“Nice men walk away from a relationship—gracefully, I might add—when a nice woman—me, in this instance—says she’s no longer interested. Which I did. At length once, and briefly during subsequent discussions.”
Tough talk
. “I don’t love you, Carson. Right now, I don’t even like you.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“I’m making perfect sense!” Bella balled her fists at her side so as not to punch him. She’d never punched anyone in her life, but Carson was testing her limits. “I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to marry you. I’m pretty sure, no, no, definitely sure that I made that clear! Yet you arranged an extravagant show. You intended to propose to me on stage, over a microphone, in front of hundreds of people. Friends, acquaintances, strangers. You thought if you put me on the spot I wouldn’t have the guts or insensitivity to say, no.”
“Why would you say, no?”
Bella threw up her hands with a strangled scream.
I’m fierce! I’m fierce! I’m fierce!
“I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, Bella Mooney.”
“So you keep saying.”
“We’re good together.”
“No, we’re not.”
“We could be good together.”
“Wrong.”
He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Bella stiffened.
She’d been here before. In Carson’s arms. She’d been in his bed. They’d been a couple. He still thought they were a couple. He was set to propose. Of course he believed he had every right to touch her like a lover. Only they hadn’t been intimate in weeks and Bella did not want to be touched.
“You’ve been out of sorts since your mother’s death,” he said when she struggled to break free. “You’re frustrated with your writing. Worried about your job. Worried about your dad. You don’t have to be. You have me.”
“Except she doesn’t want you.” Savage appeared out of nowhere—ominous shades and bad-ass-itude in place. “Let her go.”
Although his tone and expression were calm, in that moment, Bella knew she’d fallen for a man capable of great violence. That made sense. Undercover cop. Of course he’d carried a gun. Maybe he’d even had to use it. Surely, he’d been in more than a few tussles and he didn’t look like a man who lost a fight. The question was: How great was his restraint?
Desperate to defuse the tense situation, Bella slipped out of Carson’s grip and backed into Savage, positioning herself between both men.
Carson hitched back his jacket and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “Who are you?”
“Joe Savage.”
“My neighbor,” Bella clarified.
Carson narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Likewise.”
“You took advantage of Mr. Mooney.”
“Matter of perspective.”
“They worked that out,” Bella said. “I told you—”
“Why are you here?” Carson asked Savage.
“I’m with Bella.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Savage said while finessing her to his side, “I’m with Bella.”
She flushed head to toe.
Okay. That was exciting and romantic and, hoo-boy, super awkward
.
Carson gaped at Bella, angled his head. “You’re seeing this guy?”
“She’s moving in with me,” Savage said, saving Bella from answering and knocking her for a loop.
Carson stared, speechless. A rarity.
“Look, Anderson. When Bella learned of this unwanted proposal, she could have taken off and left you twisting in the wind. Instead, she rushed over to save you from making an ass of yourself. If I were you, I’d catch the Cougars before they go on, back out of this ego-fueled display, and save face.”
Jaw clenched, Carson flicked his gaze to Bella. “You’ll regret this. Him. I can’t promise I’ll be waiting whenever you work out whatever this is in your system.”
Bella suppressed a frustrated sigh and forced a smile. Pride was forcing him to back off, but it also negated a graceful, and speedy, exit. “I hope we can still be friends, Carson.”
“Sure.” He slid a menacing look at Savage. “That doesn’t extend to you and me.”
“Naturally.”
Carson stalked toward the backstage mania.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of the showdown, Bella gripped Savage’s arm as her knees wobbled and her stomach churned. It was the first time two men had fought over her and there was nothing sexy about it. Not to mention, the adrenaline that had pumped through her blood when she’d given Carson hell whooshed from her body the moment he walked away.
She wasn’t feeling so fierce now.
Savage cupped the back of her neck and placed a kiss to her bandaged forehead. “Way to go, Tiger.”
Too bad she ruined the affectionate gesture by breaking off and hurling into the bushes.
* * *
Joe had looked into the eyes of murders, thieves, rapists, and ten-thousand varieties of asshole. Carson Anderson didn’t intimidate Joe. Nor did he think the man would ever physically hurt Bella, but he couldn’t be sure. People sometimes acted out of character when pushed to the extreme.
Best case scenario, the guy would sulk for a while then lick his wounds and accept defeat. Joe chose not to dwell on the worst scenario. The last thing he needed was to borrow trouble. Still, he didn’t like the guy. When he’d seen him touch Bella, Joe liked him even less.
Jealousy flared. Fury burned. Memories influenced his imagination, tempting the beast locked within. The rage lingered even after Anderson left. He’d walked away, but he hadn’t given up. That also rattled Joe’s chains. He struggled with disproportionate anger, determined to shield Bella from that hell. Then she’d puked in the bushes and, damn, if his world didn’t right.
Pulling her hair from her face, Joe passed her his bandana. “Nerves?”
“I guess. Yes. I’m not good with confrontation.”
“You did fine.”
Still hunched over she pressed the folded cloth to her mouth. “First I bled on this—”
“Actually, this is a fresh one.”
“And now…ick.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Joe pulled a roll of mints out of his pocket. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
When she straightened, he asked, “Feel better?”