Belle of Bellville Ch. 11-12

"May I have my keys back, Mister Jacob?" she said as she held out the palm of her hand.

"Yea, of course," he said.

But then, instead of dropping her keys into her hand, he took her hand in a firm hold and pulled her along. She was left with the choice to either follow or be dragged!

"This is unnecessary, Mister Jacob!" she protested as she kept pace with him.

"At first I didn't much appreciate it, Bella, but I reckon I'm startin' to like you addressin' me with Jacob, although I can still do without the 'Mister'," he said as he gave her confused face a sidelong look. "Ain't no woman ever said my name the way you did last night."

She went instantly beet-red in the face. The added benefit to him was, she was struck speechless—and that's exactly what he was going for. He also knew she was too much of a lady to show her temper in public and, with more people out and about, she returned to her polite manner and smile, and bid passersby good morning as he touched his hat. By the time she found her tongue again, they'd already made it to a small café in the same shopping complex.

"You are acting boorish!" she hissed beneath her breath.

He ignored her...again.

They entered the cozy establishment, and he immediately sought out a table for them by the window. Still holding on to her hand as if he were afraid she'd bolt, he led her to their table without delay. Although she was adept at walking on high heels and could move quicker than most women wearing them, she couldn't outrun a six foot plus cowboy in cowboy boots.

He pulled out a chair for her and only released her hand when she was seated. Then he took a seat across her while ignoring the blasts of blue ice coming from her side as she glared at him, wholly disenchanted about his behavior. Not that he noticed, as calm as he was as he removed his hat and set it on the table. He simply took up the menu and sat back before perusing it with all the calm in the world!

"You said I can have my keys back."

"Yup."

"May I have them back now?"

"You don't need them now," he said, undisturbed, while continuing to peruse the menu.

"I don't care if I don't need them now. I want them now," she ground out as angry as she possibly could without raising her voice. "And why are you studying the menu? You only wanted "Arbuckle", remember?"

Her testy tone had him raise his head a little to peer across the table at her fuming little face. He knew she hadn't a clue how breathtaking and tempting she looked with fire in those sapphire-blue eyes and her cheeks flushed the way they get when they'd just had sex. Unfortunately, she had to drop those attractive eyes when a pretty blonde waitress appeared at their table in a burgundy uniform with a cute white frilly apron.

He felt genuinely deprived!

"Oh, howdy, Jake!" the waitress greeted.

Isabella was irked. Did the man sleep with every pretty woman in Bellville?? She wondered what was this woman's "place and time" with him in the past. She looked a little young, though, even for an insatiable lover like Jacob, so theirs must've been a recent break-up.

"Howdy, Reese," he said in return.

Then she looked at the pretty lady sitting with Jake. "Howdy!" she said. "I don't believe I've seen you around these parts before. I'm Reese Ingle, a friend of Jake's brother, James."

Hearing that, Isabella looked up and blinked big eyes. "Oh, hello." Then her smile was back when she heard that Reese was James' friend, not one of Jacob Barrington's exes. "I'm Isabella, Mr. John Barrington's—"

"—I'll have an Arbuckle, black, and a piece of apple pie with whipped cream, Reese," Jacob said, drawing a scathing look from his table partner. "She'll have a cup of tea with lemon and a bagel with cream cheese."

Reese noted the order and then smiled kindly to them both. "Isabella. Now there's a name you don't hear much in Bellville." She smiled and winked at the pretty lady. "Very nice to meet ya, Isabella," she said before she looked at Jacob. "How's James doin', Jake?" she asked.

"He's fine."

"Oh." Reese's pretty face dropped. "Has he...?"

"Nope."

She perked up and smiled. "I think I'll give him a call. He hasn't called me in weeks, and I'm wonderin' if he's upset with me." She looked at Jake but he merely smiled in return. "I see. I'll see if I can get that call in today."

"Sounds like a good idea."

She smiled before she turned and left to see their order.

The moment she was gone, Isabella's smile vanished and she shot forward to glare at Jacob's far-too-relaxed looking face. "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me, Mister Jacob? I won't have you treat me like a simpleminded—"

"—Floosie?" He popped eyebrows as he watched her narrow her angry eyes before she slowly sat back but remained stiffly upright in her seat. "I know you're not."

"Good. I suggest you keep that in mind," she said none-too-friendly, "for the next time you feel this insatiable need to go Neanderthal on me."

He didn't respond but instead seemed suddenly interested in the other customers in the café. She could scream.

He calmly took in the place while knowing damn well that Isabella was getting more and more upset with him with every passing second. But he wasn't looking just to be looking elsewhere since he'd rather gaze at Bella's pretty face 24/7. He was actually looking for someone...

Reese returned with their order and served them. Then she left their table with the obligatory "if you need anything else" and was once again gone. Only then did Jacob sit up in his chair. He ignored the sugar and cream but took up the cup, ignoring the cup's ear too, and sipped the hot brew.

"You know," Isabella began, "for a man who seemed hell-bent on dragging me from my car and forcing his company on me, you don't appear to be in any hurry to give an explanation why. So," she said as she looked disapprovingly at him, "why did you bring me here?"

He calmly sipped his coffee, dark long eyelashes down, and when he had his fill, he silently set his cup on its saucer and took up his fork to have a bite of his apple pie—but didn't even respond!

"Mister Jacob—!"

"—At the house and in front of the hands, I'll tolerate you addressing me with that stupid 'Mister' prefix. But when we're alone together, I expect you to just call me what everyone else does—"

"—Atilla?" she smoothly cut in.

He flickered up eyes as he cut himself a piece of that huge apple pie with whipped cream. "Jake. But Jacob is fine now, too." Then he smiled when color shot into her face, and he dropped his eyelashes and proceeded to enjoy his pie.

She made an exasperated sound and looked pointedly at his bent blond head. "I was under the assumption that you dragged me here because you wanted to talk."

"Why don't you have a bite of your bagel? I know how much you like'em."

She was surprised to hear that he knew she liked bagels with cream cheese! "I'm not hungry," she said stubbornly.

"Then have some tea."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Bella," he shook his head, "you look like you can raise a fight in an empty house."

"What?"

He straightened in his seat and looked at her with those annoying lazy eyes of his as he wiped his lips with a paper napkin. "Have a bite and some tea. It'll help make you less cranky."

"The reason why I'm cranky is because I'm not here out of my own free will!"

He popped eyebrows as she glared pointedly at him.

"Besides," she added, "I don't have a knife. I never have bagels with cream cheese without a knife and fork." Then she fanned fingers by her lips. "I don't appreciate the stickiness of cream cheese against my lips."

"I reckon you don't appreciate anythin' touching your lips—or any other part of your anatomy...most times," he said.

Her jaw dropped and then her hand dropped back into her lap as she stared, flabbergasted, at him from across the table. "And what's that supposed to mean??"

"What I can't figure out is, what did that fella do to you that's crippled you," he said, calm as day.

She frowned and averted her gaze, hands stiffly in her lap. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Only one man's hurt can make a woman shrink away from another man's touch."

She set her cup back on the saucer and lifted her eyebrows coolly now as she looked at him with her hands in her lap under the table. "Oh? So now you're a part-time psychologist as well?"

"I know women."

"I have no doubt you know more women than most men can boast in a single lifetime, but doesn't it take more than afternoon tussles in the hay in order to make such an assessment?"

He looked at her sarcastic face. "Who's Charles DeVille?"

His calm query instantly took the stormy winds out of her sails, and she went ashen in a nanosecond. She pressed a hand over her throat before she averted her gaze. "I don't want to talk about him."

"He's the one who's hurt you. He's the one you're runnin' from," he said.

"If you're so convinced about your conclusion, why ask?"

He merely looked at her.

"Anyway," she said with a hard frown as she dropped her gaze. "My private life is none of your business." Then she looked pointedly at him. "You know what? I believe this impromptu and forced-upon coffee break is over. I'd like my keys back so I can head back to the ranch!" She moved to get up, but then she froze.

Someone was walking up to their table with a confident gait. When she recognized his face, hers went instantly pale. She felt as if her entire world had begun to spin and she damned well knew she was close to a third fainting bout in just four days. But she didn't faint as she dropped down in her seat.

The tall, dark, and handsome man in a black dress shirt and black-specked gray trousers smiled back at her, his eyes hard and, although green, looked black when he saw she'd seen him.

"Hello, Isabella," Charles DeVille said as he slipped his hands into his pockets and came to stand by their table. "And who might this gentleman be?"

Chapter Twelve

She was speechless. Dumbstruck. Terrified. She swore she was caught in the middle of a horrible nightmare and she wished she could wake up. But she knew she was already awake and...that this was real.

He was actually here, in Bellville, in the café. Oh god...he found her.

She's always known that he eventually would if she remained in one place too long. But she'd only been in Bellville for five days total! How in the hell did he find her so quickly?

She watched his gaze go from excited on her, then cold as he looked at Jacob. The latter was sitting back in his seat, arm casually over the back support, smiling up at him.

"Wh-What are you doing here?" she was able to get through her strangled throat.

"Why, I came for you, of course, Petite."

"No." She shook her head. "No. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have—"

"—No, Isabella," he cut in. "You shouldn't have." His smile vanished as he watched her eyes grow rounder. Then he smiled again. "But it's okay. I've found you and that's all that matters. All is forgiven."

She seriously doubted that.

"I've decided to escort you home and to your ailing father. He's dying to see you."

"Those are poorly chosen words, Charles—"

"—I asked you who this gentleman is and you have yet to answer me."

Then Jacob spoke up. "If you wanna know who I am, just ask me straight," he said calmly. "I'm sittin' right here and I ain't deaf. Don't need anyone speakin' for me."

Charles moved his hard green eyes to the blond cowboy's handsome face. He was nearly spitting with jealousy, seeing his Isabella with such a good-looking man. It was killing him inside but you wouldn't know it from looking at him.

"Do you know who I am, sir?" Charles asked the cocky cowboy.

"Charles DeVille."

Charles' eyebrows popped in surprise, taken aback. Then he looked at Isabella who had her eyes down. "You've told this cowboy about us, Izzy."

"Don't call me that," she said with a barely audible whisper. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes hard in their sockets. "Don't ever call me that again, Charles."

He merely smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I apologize," he said without contrition. "So, you've told this cowboy about us?"

"There is no 'us'. And I thought I heard you'd gotten married. What are you doing here? You should be with your wife!"

"That's old news. Didn't work out. So I'm without a wife, sad to say." He shook his head. "And I've already answered you—I've come here for you. Now that you've had your fun dallying about the country, you ought to come with me. I'm taking you out of this godforsaken place and back to your lovely home and your father's side where you belong."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Really?" Charles said with a deceptively polite smile. Then he moved forward to take her wrist but in the next instant, his path was blocked. A broad-shouldered, six foot plus cowboy with the friendliest smile and hardest blue eyes this side of the Mason-Dixon was standing in between him and Izzy.

"You heard the lady. She ain't goin' anywhere with you."

Charles' smile vanished as he slowly straightened and glared at the taller man in front of him. Everything inside him lit in rage, and his first instinct was to lash out physically. Then his gaze dropped to the holstered gun on his hip before it slowly rose to meet cold blue eyes.

"Step out of my way, sir. This is between Miss Beaumont-Boucher and me."

Isabella nearly winced when she heard Charles give her full name. Now Jacob's going to think she's a liar as well as a fraud!

"I just made it between you and me," Jacob said with a cold smile.

"Isabella," Charles said without taking his eyes off the cowboy, "tell your friend to stand down. I know he thinks he's doing you a favor, coming to your rescue like some gunslinger hero from the wild, wild west," then he looked passed the blond man to her, "but you know as well as I that he's only making matters worse."

"What? You've got your brains in your back pocket?" Jacob said with that irritating smile. "This ain't Connecticut, Yankee. Look around you. This is Bellville, Texas. Around these parts, you don't go digging up more snakes than you can kill if you're half as smart as you think you are. Now as I see it, the lady don't wanna go with you, so how about you turn tail and mosey on back under the rock you'd crawled out from under and leave well enough alone."

Isabella was stunned that so many words came out of a usually one-word Jacob Barrington.

Charles had paused and even looked a little alarmed. He finally became aware of his surroundings and that it had gotten dead silent in the café. He turned his head to look over one shoulder and then turned to look over the other. He saw all patrons there were staring rigidly at him. They weren't looking as friendly as they had when he entered. He'd been warned that the Barringtons were Bellville's VIP family. He knew he couldn't win this, what with all those 'Bellvillians' packing guns and eager to protect one of their own—especially a Barrington.

Then he looked at the tall blond cowboy in front of him. He smiled and the smile was returned. "You must be Jacob Barrington," he said, but the cowboy didn't respond. "I've done my homework, as well, as you can hear. But at the moment, it appears you have the advantage, Mr. Barrington."

If the Barrington boy was surprised that he knew who he was, he didn't show it.

"Reckon I do."

"Look, sir," Charles said with a deep breath before he smiled, "I don't want any trouble. I'm here as a favor to Isabella's gravely ill father. Now be the gentleman I know your mother raised you to be, step aside, and we'll be on our way."

The mirth on Jacob's face was wiped clean and his blue eyes became shards of ice as he stepped to the darker man in front of him, seeing him arch arrogant eyebrows back. "Now I know I don't know you from Adam's off ox, but the way I see it, you don't look as if you can ride and chew at the same time. So I'm gonna make it real clear for you," he began as he stared tightly into the other man's eyes. "She ain't goin' anywhere with you."

Charles' smile faded as he stared determinedly into twin shards of blue ice. "You're making a big mistake, Mr. Barrington. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Jacob smiled calmly. "Likewise."

After a few more moments of a stare-down match, Charles finally turned his attention on Isabella who raised her gaze defiantly to him. "See you soon, Izzy," he said, chuckling when he saw her stiffen. Then he turned and calmly exited the café, and the patrons there resumed their socializing as if nothing had happened.

Jacob calmly seated himself as Isabella watched his face closely.

She dropped her gaze and watched as her fingers nervously picked on one another. "He's a dangerous man, Jacob," she said quietly, and raised her gaze to see him looking at her.

"Meanin'?"

She stared at him for a few moments. She wanted to tell him that she needed to leave Bellville as quickly as possible, but she felt he would just try and stop her. Then she shook her head and finally picked up her tea cup. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop her fingers from shaking, something she saw Jacob's sharp gaze pick up on.

"I just don't want anyone hurt because of me—"

"—Drink up, Bella. We've gotta be headin' back to the ranch."

She frowned, curiously. "Why?"

He merely stared at her.

She finally nodded, knowing he was right. She was a sitting duck out in public—and so was he. She knew Charles didn't come alone and it was just be a matter of time before his goons would show up and try to take Jacob down. Then a slow frown appeared on her brow before she raised her gaze and looked at his calm face as he finished the last bite of pie.

"You knew he was in town," she stated.

"Yup," he said as he took a paper napkin and wiped his mouth.

She set her cup down. "You knew he'd be in this café this morning." Then she frowned. "That's why you came to town. That's why you dragged me here."

He raised lazily lidded eyes and looked at her. "It ain't the only reason but, yea, I knew he'd be here this morning and I reckon I wanted him to see you ain't alone."

"How long have you known about him?"

"Since you called out his name when you passed out in the kitchen."

Her jaw nearly dropped. "And...when were you going to tell me?"

"You ain't exactly come clean with me, Isabella Beaumont-Boucher."

She stiffened and had the decency to blush to the roots of her hair. "You've known all along what my true name is."

"Yea." He shrugged. "Wasn't all too hard findin' out, though. Internet and all that."

She shook her head. "I should've known..." Then she raised her head and looked at him. "I don't believe he was intimidated enough to take your advice and leave Bellville," she said with a frown. "Not that you're not imposing, mind you, but he's a man obsessed. I believe I should just leave—"

"—First off, I didn't give advice," he told her firmly as he looked at her. "Second, like I said, he ain't got enough sense to spit downwind. He's only brought three men." He shook his head as if that were really stupid. "Third, you ain't goin' nowhere now he's in town."

"You don't understand, Jacob," she said earnestly. "These aren't ordinary men. They're hired professionals."

He studied the fear in her eyes for a moment, and then motioned with his head. "Come on," he said as he rose from his seat and fished out a wallet from his back pocket. "We best get goin'."

She nodded as she quietly rose to her feet as well. Then she watched as he tossed a few bills onto the table, returned his wallet to his back pocket, and took up his hat and set it on his head before he walked toward the exit, leaving her to follow. Once outside, though, he waited for her to come beside him before he placed a hand in the small of her back and had her walk beside him. Strangely, that gesture instantly comforted her.