Belle of Bellville Ch. 05-06

"I would rather go personally so that I can acquaint myself with their selection." Then she smiled. "Now that you made me rich, I would also like to do a little personal shopping."

"Oh." He frowned as he looked at her. "Well, I'll see if I can rustle up a ranch hand to take you to town."

"No need. I'll drive out on my own."

"I don't know if I can agree to that," he said with a concerned frown. "Maybe you need to wait till Doc gets here and gives you the OK 'fore you drive the thirty five minutes to town."

"I'll be fine, sir. So," she quickly added to avoid more objections, "where can I find the pen and paper?"

"There's some over there on my desk. Take any pen you want."

"Thank you, sir." She nodded and stepped to his desk, watching as he lifted the arm and needle of the turntable and put it on a spinning vinyl record.

She noticed a roller index and she saw a blank index card. It was perfect for the advertisement she planned to put up at the Postal Plus or the grocers' advertisement board. She took it and quickly slipped it into her pocket before she reached for a pen when her hand froze midair as her smile faded when she heard what song came out of the hidden speakers...

Lynn Anderson's "Rose Garden". Her mother's favorite song.

Tears immediately welled up in her eyes.

"Isabella?"

She looked up to find that John Barrington had come to her side. She had no idea just how much time had passed but it had to be substantial enough that it gave him time to come stand beside her. To her surprise, she saw tears in his eyes, too. Then she quickly fingered her tears away and sniffled.

"My apologies, Mr. Barrington," she said before she quickly took a pen and reached for a piece of paper but suddenly felt his hand gently take hers. She snapped big teary eyes up to meet his shimmering blue eyes as he took the pen and set it down on the desk before he gently pulled her to him.

"It's been a long, long time, but...will you do me the honor and dance with me?"

"D-Dance?"

"Please," he asked quietly. "A simple two-step. Do you know it?"

"Yes."

He arched an eyebrow with a happily surprised smile.

She laughed softly. "My mother taught me to dance since I could walk." Then she rolled teary eyes. "Among many other dance styles, the Texas two-step was one of her favorites, which, I'll confess, I couldn't appreciate then as I do now."

"Interesting lady. Hope to meet her someday," he said as he gazed into her eyes, but then he saw pain flash there and he immediately took her hand as she laid her hand on the upper part of his arm—just as a lady should do in a two-step. He smiled appreciatively. "She taught you well."

"Thank you."

He led her into a gentle two-step and smiled when she followed his lead with skilled steps. They danced to her mother's favorite song in his study until they were both smiling, even laughing, before she made an elegant outside turn, making her circle skirt fan out around her slender legs to nearly mid-thigh.

It took him by surprise. "Didn't see that comin'," he said with a chuckle.

"That makes two of us, Pa."

They both quickly looked to the door where they found Jacob leaning a broad shoulder against the doorframe; arms crossed. He had the most deceptively lazy look on his face that it was almost...cold.

"Jacob! What're you doin' back at the house this early?" John Barrington said with a smile as his hands dropped from Isabella.

"Got word that Bella here needed her keys."

"Yea. She needs to go into town."

"Does she now?" Jacob asked.

"Ah, um, yes." She cleared her throat. "I need some personal things and I'd like to familiarize myself with the selection offered at Ginny's Grocers."

"You sure you're up to it, Isabella?" John Barrington asked. "The offer to have a ranch hand drive you still stands."

She smiled. "I'll be fine, sir."

"Pa's right to be worried, considerin' you'd fainted just yesterday. You shouldn't be drivin', just to be on the safe side," Jacob said and drew their attention back to him as he pushed from doorframe and motioned with his head. "Let's go."

She looked at him as if he'd just offered her a fistful of worms!

"I'm quite capable of driving myself, Mister Jacob."

"Naw. My son's right, Isabella," John Barrington said, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be drivin' until Doc says it's okay. I'd feel a helluva lot better if Jacob drove you to town."

"I really don't want to impose. I know he's a very busy—"

"—It's gettin' late, Bella. The sooner we get goin', the sooner we're back. 'Sides, I need to put in a new order for feed for the longhorns. We're runnin' low," he said as he looked at his father.

"Okay, Jacob." Then he looked at Isabella. "Don't worry, Isabella, Jacob is an excellent driver. You'll be in good hands."

She seriously doubted that.

"Yes," she said. "Right." Then she nodded and walked away from the desk toward Jacob whose eyes followed her every move. "I'll need to fetch my sweater," she said in passing as she exited the door, but he didn't say anything as he turned and followed her out.

Neither noticed the way John Barrington's eyes had shifted from his son to the pretty Louisiana lady and back, nor how a slow and cunning smile spread across his lips. "Hm. Interestin'," he said before he turned and put the needle on the vinyl again and played the song again, chuckling when he heard Elena's outraged cry in the hallway...

**~*~**

Chapter 6

Since climbing into Jacob Barrington's truck—and it was necessary to actually climb to get in that tank—she'd been silent. She was cross with him for interfering with her plans to leave Barrington Ranch that day. Very cross.

As the trip proceeded in silence, however, her temper ebbed. Desperation began to set in when she realized she'd have to have a change of plans.

"How am I supposed to pull off putting up an advertisement at the Postal Plus with Jacob Barrington breathing over my shoulder?" she thought silently, biting her lip as she sat on the passenger's side of the...bench...in his ginormous white pickup truck. "This is so frustrating."

Then she turned her head and looked at the handsome cowboy beside her. He was now wearing his dark brown cowboy hat again with his eyes glued on the road ahead. He didn't look all too happy with this arrangement, either, and that was surprising since he all but foisted his big body into the decision making!

On the other hand, didn't that obnoxious cowboy want her to leave Barrington Ranch from the get-go? Perhaps he'd be willing to help her in that endeavor. They'd both get what they eventually wanted, right?

She decided to feel him out; to see what mood he was in.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know," she said. "All I wanted were my keys back. I feel just fine and I could've driven the Rover to town myself."

"City."

She frowned. "What?"

"Bellville's a city."

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment. "Your father called it a town, too."

"He knows it's a city. You don't."

Okay. So maybe now wasn't the time to enlist his help. His curt tone surprised her and she looked flabbergasted at his hard profile. What was wrong with him?

"So...," she began, "before I forget again, um, I'd appreciate it if you could return my keys to me." She paused. "Preferably before Doctor Bennett comes by to check in on me? Now would be even better if you have them on you."

He didn't respond. He didn't even look her way. As a matter of fact, he made it pretty clear that he wasn't in a talking mood since they left the ranch! Perhaps he was upset that he had to drive her into town—into the city—and perhaps that was the reason for his brooding silence?

Well, no more excuses! That was just unfair!

She cleared her throat and flipped a hand as she casually shrugged. "I mean, I know how busy you are at the ranch, and I'm quite capable of driving without the threat of another incident. I mean, I have driven out to the ranch yesterday, right? So in light of that, I don't believe there was any need for you to accompany me to t—the city. And there's a working telephone at the house, so you could have just as well called in the reorder for cow food."

"Cattle feed," he corrected as he kept his attention on the road ahead of them.

She frowned curiously as she looked at him.

"Are you all right, Mister Jacob?"

"The name's Jake."

"And I've already told you, I prefer to address you as Mister Jacob—"

"—Yea." He turned his cool gaze on her big curious eyes. "At the house. We ain't at the house, are we?"

She blinked nervous eyes before she couldn't hold his gaze and dropped her eyelashes as she fumbled with a corner of her sweater. "I'd rather not break with form if it's all the same to you."

"It ain't," he said curtly. "It ain't form here in southeast Texas. We ain't as formal as folks in Louisiana, and you ain't in Louisiana anymore."

She arched an eyebrow. "Fine," she said a little testily. "I'll address you less formally when in public, but when at the ranch, I'll hold true to decorum required of paid staff—which is universal." She made a mental note to avoid, whenever and wherever possible, to address him informally. She didn't want to get all too familiar with him.

"And at my place."

She briefly stiffened in her seat. "Well, you don't have to be afraid that will ever happen again," she said a little quieter.

"Never said I was afraid. You're welcome to come by any time you like."

"Yes, I'm certain you wouldn't mind that."

"No. I wouldn't."

"Well, I would," she said. "I'm here for cooking and cleaning, not for entertaining the son of my employer. And I never intend to become just another notch on a philandering man's bedpost, so you'll never have to be afraid—" She paused. "You'll never need to expect a visit from me. Ever."

He arched an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "Philanderin'?"

She cleared her throat again. "Yes. It means—"

"—I know what it means," he said. "Sounds like Elena's been gossipin' again."

"Well, they say where there's smoke, there's fire, and a warned person counts for two, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm more appreciative of Elena's "gossip" than you are." She cleared her throat and looked out her window, feeling the color creep into her cheeks. How on god's green Earth did they get on this difficult subject? "So, again, do you have my keys on you?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Didn't work.

"This Charles must've hurt you somethin' bad."

She stared silently at his profile until he turned his head and looked at her. She felt color rise in her cheeks before she dropped eyelashes and shrugged. "That's inconsequential to the topic at hand—"

"—Yea. Made you so shy that a man's touch is as welcome as an outhouse breeze."

She felt her body go so stiff it gave her physical discomfort. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't understand your Texas-talk—"

"—Oh, you darn well know what I'm sayin', Bella."

She cleared her throat and arched a snooty eyebrow. "About those keys—"

"—Even now," he continued, "even on this wide bench, you're sittin' as far away as you possibly can without fallin' out the door, as afraid as you are to touch me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she defended hotly. "Even if I sat in the center of this-this enormous seat, I still wouldn't touch any part of you."

"That's exactly what I said."

"You know very well I didn't mean I wouldn't touch you—"

"—Would you?"

She looked cross at him despite her bright blush, and saw him smile that arrogant smile of his. "I meant, even if I were to sit right smack in the center of this bench, there would still be a gap of at least half a foot or more between us. So the chances of our bodies touching in any way are next to nil."

"I asked you a question, Bella. Would you touch me?"

"That's an inappropriate question to ask the paid housekeeper and cook, and as the son of my employer, your question borders on sexual harassment so I'll pretend I didn't hear you," she said.

"I didn't mean sexual."

"Mister Jacob!"

"Jake."

"Ohhh...no." She shook her head, wagging a finger in the air. "When you talk like that, you're Mister Jacob."

He arched an eyebrow. "So you can keep me at a distance?"

"To remind you of clearly defined stations and personal boundaries," she gave back.

"Yea," he said with a handsome smile—however cynical, "to keep your distance. But it ain't gonna work, Bella."

She was so stunned by how his smile changed his face that it took a few seconds more for his words to sink in. He had a spectacular smile with strong white teeth that made creases appear in his cheek and jaw. She could see why even his older brother's ex-fiancée couldn't resist him.

When his words finally sank in, she frowned. "What's not going to work?"

"How 'bout we try somethin'," he suggested without answering.

"And what would that be? Returning my keys to me without me having to repeat the request three times?" she said with a cool look.

"Touch me."

She blinked big eyes. "I'd rather not."

"Nuthin' personal. Just my arm or hand."

"Why would I?"

"To prove you're not scared of me."

"I'm not afraid of you! I just don't go around touching men as if they're some strange new thing." She crossed her arms and looked stubbornly out the window.

"But that's how you see us, don't you? Like strange things—things that scare you."

"This discussion is over."

He looked at her before he turned his attention on the road. Just when she thought he'd given up, he steered the pickup to the side of the road and parked it, but he left the engine running.

She swept surprised eyes around before she looked at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

He half turned in this seat as he looked at her, watching her color alternate between pale and fiery red. He could see that her anxiety level had gone sky-high already. Her eyelashes were flickering almost nonstop and her chest rose and fell with increasingly shallow breaths.

"Calm down, Bella. No one's gonna hurt you." Then he caught and held her gaze before he slowly lifted his gloved hand and held it out to her. "Just take my hand."

She nearly cringed. Her hands came up against her chest as if protecting them from a venomous snake bite and she began nervously lacing her fingers. "This is ridiculous! There's no need for me to touch you—"

"—Take my hand."

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" He arched a dark blond eyebrow.

"Because I'd rather not." Her lips tugged into a single line as she all but glared at him. "We need to be going. Doctor Bennett is due to come by in a few hours and if we don't resume our trip to the city now, we'll be late—"

"—We're gonna sit here 'til you're outta excuses and take my hand even if it takes all day." He looked in earnest at her. "Take my hand, Bella. It's gloved. There ain't gonna be any skin on skin. Take my hand."

"You're being ridiculous and inappropriate!"

"That's cuz you're scared o' me."

"Nooo..." she lagged the word. "It's because it's unnecessary. When it's necessary, I won't hesitate. Now please put your hand down."

"It's necessary now."

"I disagree."

His wrist finally went limp but he didn't pull his hand back. "Tell ya what," he began and watched as she arched an eyebrow. "Tell me if your shoulder, thigh, and knee are touchin' the door."

She glared at his calm handsome face before she turned her head and looked down to her right. Much to her surprise, her shoulder, her hip, her thigh, and her knee were pressed against the door. She quickly swept her knees away and just as quickly tugged her skirt down—that hadn't crept up at all—over her knees.

"See what I mean?" he said, and he actually chuckled, too; infuriating her. "I won't say it's far, but I'd have to grease the wagon twice just to come over to you."

"What?"

"There's enough space between our bodies to seat two extra people."

She looked away with high-red cheeks. "I have to keep a professional distance. It's the proper thing to do."

"But only with me."

She snapped her head around and tried to give him a snooty look, but her big eyes were too wounded and too expressive to pull it off. "Don't flatter yourself, Mister Jacob—"

"—Just Jake. No "mister". No Jacob. Just Jake. And believe me, it ain't flatterin' that a pretty lady's too timid to warm the spot beside me."

She clamped her jaw shut as she looked out of her window again. "Can we go now?"

"Funny thing, though, you didn't seem to mind my pa touchin' your hand and your back."

"We were dancing," she said as she looked cross at him. "You have to touch your dance partner to do the Texas two-step."

"I know."

"Of course you do," she said as she looked out her window. "From what I've heard, you've "danced" the two-step more than any other man can boast."

"I ain't ever claimed to be a saint, Bella, and each and every one of them had their place and time, but that don't mean I've been paintin' the town red every minute of every day."

She turned her head and gave him a cool look. "Don't you mean paint the city red?"

"Take my hand, Bella," he said as he stared at her.

She glared at him as her delicate jaw went rigid. Then, with hard-blinking eyes, she quickly grabbed his gloved fingers with the idea to immediately release him. "See? Happy now—?" But the rest of what she wanted to say stuck in her throat when his fingers immediately curled around hers and she discovered she couldn't pull free.

She quickly looked at him with eyes round as saucers, and she realized her jaw had dropped. Then her lips closed when he continued to stare into her eyes while easily holding on to her fingers. She knew he was looking for her reaction; whether she'd faint or something embarrassing like that, but she did none of that. She just stared at him, a little insecure, a little surprised, and more than just a little apprehensive.

"There," he finally said with a hushed tone. "That wasn't all too bad was it?"

She swallowed and dropped her eyelashes as she shook her head twice. "No." She felt him release her and she quickly retracted her hand. She fought the desire to rub the sensation his touch left behind. Instead, she directed her attention out the window and chose to play with her hair in a subtle attempt to stop that tingling feeling.

He watched her delicate profile before his gaze roamed down to observe how her slender fingers shook as they quietly stroked and played with her thick raven curls; how her index finger shook as it gently wrapped a curl around it before she slipped it free and repeated the act.

Then he put the pickup truck in "R" and backed out before he shifted again and drove off toward town with his gaze directed ahead of them again. They finished the rest of the trip in silence; both in deep thought and thinking about the same subject, only from completely different perspectives.

**~*~**

They arrived in the heart of Bellville in less than fifteen minutes after that uncomfortable and unnecessary stop.

When he parked on the courthouse square, on Holland Street, she was out of his truck even before he finished pulling out his key. She knew it was rude to do what she did, but she had enough of Jacob Barrington. Besides, she didn't want him asking all kinds of questions—or getting bossy again.

She felt his eyes were on her as she closed the door. Then she walked briskly to the covered walk and out of the sun before she headed for the newly opened Postal Plus in the row of shops that looked as if they came straight out of the Wild, Wild, West.

She had arrived a week earlier before discovering the Barrington Ranch advertisement. She was in search of employment and had opened a postal box at the Postal Plus and also sent a letter to Gordon Shaw, Esquire, the attorney who held and handled her trust. She was in dire need of funds, and had requested some money to be sent to this mailing address posthaste. She could trust him since he was bound by client-attorney privilege, so she felt it was safe enough to let him know her whereabouts.