The truth was, I wasn’t even sure why I’d transferred it from the storage shed to the property where I lived, except for the fact that Donna had said the contents would go up for auction in a couple of months. The car
. . . well, I hardly cared about the car, but it felt like I needed to figure out what to do with the money Ethan had obviously been hiding—at least from me. And this way, I had as much time as I needed to do that.
I’d considered calling Hank about the money. But if he knew, he’d have to do something in a professional capacity . . . perhaps I’d have to be interviewed at the police station, questioned. Would my story be splashed all over the news again? It made my stomach cramp to think of going through it all over, even now. And so I’d hesitated . . . putting off any decisions at all.
I heard the sound of the door opening down the hall and footsteps on the wooden floor and got a second mug out of the cabinet for Brant. I’d think about the money in the garage after this weekend. One weekend, one break from reality, and then I would figure something out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Brant
We spent that day riding together. I showed her places that had once been my favorite spots, and she showed me her favorites as well. Surprisingly, many were the same. We ate sandwiches on a blanket under a tree by the rushing stream and then made love under the blue autumn sky, the chill causing our skin to erupt in goosebumps, but too turned on to let the cold stop us.
She had no idea what she was doing to me. How could she, when I didn’t either? I’d never felt this way about a woman, like a teenager discovering the joys of sex for the first time, like a man who thought he’d known everything there was to know about the pleasures of the flesh, and was finding out that was far from true. Perhaps I was experiencing things through Isabelle’s eyes, and somehow her wide-eyed joy was infusing me too. Whatever it was, I was lost to it.
We ate dinner by candlelight in the dining room, me regaling her with stories of when I’d been a boy and all the trouble I’d gotten into. She’d laughed, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with humor, and I’d felt an unusual fluttering in my chest at the simple pleasure of making this woman laugh.
“Did you use to eat family dinners in here?” she asked around a bite of roasted chicken.
I finished chewing, remembering back. “Not often. On holidays. My mother wasn’t much of a cook.” A memory came to me then of running downstairs because the smoke alarm was going off. A black cloud had been billowing out of the oven and my mother had been dancing in front of it. Twirling. Spinning.
My father had rushed into the room and taken whatever was burning out of the oven as my mother laughed. I shook my head clear of the memory. My mother had sometimes been taken to strange behavior.
“What else was she like?” Belle asked, somewhat tentatively.
I played idly with my food. “She was a dreamer, who at times had her head in the clouds. But she was fun and enthusiastic and larger than life.”
Belle smiled warmly. “Funny. That’s how May described you when I first asked.”
A distant feeling of alarm rang through me and the fork slipped out of my fingers, clattering onto the plate. “Sorry,” I murmured. “Speaking of May, she called while you were in the shower. Dad’s doing well.”
Her eyes lingered on me for a moment as if trying to read my thoughts. I glanced away, taking a sip of wine. When I looked back at her, she smiled. “Good.”
That night we made love in the shower, in the bed, with our bodies and with our mouths. Belle’s tentative gaze reached mine as her lips closed over my shaft, and my heartbeat thundered in my chest, a plea repeating in my head: please don’t stop, please don’t stop. She was both innocent and wildly seductive, and I couldn’t get enough of her.
Let it be like this forever. You and me. We belong together.
As the clock struck midnight and Saturday turned to Sunday, I pulled Belle close, her satiny skin still dewy from our most recent activity. I felt her smile against my skin, her hand running lazily down my arm and back up again. Our weekend was down to a few lingering hours. Tomorrow I’d leave and go back to New York. She sighed and the sound was pure sweetness. She tilted her head and looked at me, and our gazes tangled. I opened my mouth to speak and she brought her fingers to my lips, a small smile dancing over hers. “Don’t even.”
I laughed and kissed her fingers, grabbing her hand in mine as our laughter dwindled, the gravity between us growing heavier. ”I won’t bring up marriage. For now anyway.” My lips tipped but didn’t hold. “But be with me, Belle. Be mine.” The words rolled off my tongue and lingered in the space between us.
Her fingers paused in their slow glide down my arm then resumed again. She leaned her chin on my chest and gazed up at me. She hadn’t said yes, but my heart lurched with hope. The idea itself didn’t seem to cause her hackles to rise and she wasn’t saying no. She sighed. “A commitment, Brant? How would it work exactly? You live in New York and I live in Kentucky—”
“We’ll figure it out.” My heart picked up speed, excitement overcoming me at the fact that she was posing questions at all. “We can go back and forth, or, I don’t know exactly, but we’ll come up with something. So much can be done remotely, Belle. At the very least, come with me to New York for the opening of my bar. Let me show you the city. You said you once wanted to see more of the world. I can show it to you. I’ll take you to see the Yankees play and to Broadway and to the best museums.” Anything seemed possible. Everything seemed possible.
My words faltered for a moment. I wanted so badly to convince her. “You’ll love staying at my penthouse, Belle. It has a chef’s kitchen and an incredible view of the city skyline.” I took a breath, trying to contain the exuberance in my tone. I wasn’t trying to scare her off, but God, I could picture the things I was telling her and the visions caused my heart to thump with want. Be with me. Just be with me. We’ll figure out all the details later.
“I only want to make you happy, Belle,” I said softly when she still didn’t respond. “You see that, don’t you?” I leaned down and brushed my lips over her forehead, breathing in her scent. “It wouldn’t be like your first relationship. I’m not like him.”
She breathed out, her warm breath gusting over my skin. “No . . . I know that.” She paused for a second and then laid her cheek on my chest. “I have to tell you something . . . or ask you, I don’t know. I’ve been struggling and—”
I sat up slightly, taking her chin between my fingers and turning her face back up to me so I could see her. “What is it?”
“That key, Brant, you were right. It was to a storage facility nearby. They changed their name and logo years ago, but it was still on some of the keys.” She shook her head slightly. “Anyway, I went there and discovered that my husband had a unit.”
I sat up a little more and she did as well, pulling the sheet up so it was covering her breasts. “Wait, what? He had a storage unit he never told you about?”
“Never.”