Not incidentally, Gram had blown her stack when she saw it.
“You must do something about this!” she demanded of Jack, waving the paper in the air when she arrived at the Saturday breakfast table where Jack and Belle had long since eaten. Rachel had just joined them and Yasmin and Joy had been with them for the last ten minutes.
“What do you propose I do, Lila?” Jack asked calmly.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Fix it!” Gram retorted hotly.
“Gram –” Belle started.
Gram cut her off while throwing the paper down and seating herself at the table, “Bellerina, you’re pregnant. You already have enough stress and strain to deal with without this in your face every morning, noon and night.”
“I know I’m pregnant, Gram, but I’m also used to this. It’ll die down, trust me,” Belle replied.
“When?” Gram shot back.
“Soon,” Belle told her.
“Jeez, Mom, take a chill pill. I think it’s sweet,” Mom recklessly informed them, ignored Gram’s eyes nearly popping out of her head and turned to Yasmin adding chattily, “I like the kissing picture best. In the car. But the one where Jack and Belle are talking and he’s got his hands on her face is nice too.”
“Rachel Leonora Abbot!” Gram shouted.
“What?” Mom asked.
“Have you lost your mind?” Gram yelled.
“Quit yelling at the breakfast table. I haven’t lost my mind.” Then Mom turned to Jack and she smiled. “Looks like you’re a good kisser.” Belle’s breath caught in her throat mainly because her heart had lodged there and Mom, not done, turned to Belle. “That’s lucky for you, honeypot.”
“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle breathed in horror.
“I think the stress and strain your grandmother is talking about, poppet, begins and ends at the breakfast table,” Jack murmured dryly and Belle’s eyes flew to him.
He was gazing at her with an expression on his face that said he didn’t know whether to laugh or yell and Belle couldn’t have helped it if she tried (which she didn’t), she burst into uncontrollable giggles.
When she stopped giggling, she wiped her eyes and saw Jack watching her, a look on his face so tender it was nearly raw. She felt her entire system shut down as she stared back with what she knew was unconcealed wonder.
“Jack, you get top prize for the day,” Mom butted into their very public moment. “Bellerina doesn’t giggle much so when she does, it’s a gift.” Belle turned her head to look at her mother and saw Rachel had a look on her face that was tender too and it was directed at Jack. “Thank you,” she said softly to finish.
It appeared then that Jack and Rachel were having a moment but it was the look on Gram’s face that caught Belle’s attention.
She was looking pleased with herself.
It was then Belle knew Gram was working a scheme. She just didn’t know what it was and she also didn’t like it. Her grandmother’s schemes were always harebrained and half-witted and, when they bumbled clumsily to fruition, usually heralded the time for them to move to a new town.
Belle didn’t have time to question her grandmother. It was time for Jack to take her to work.
Which he did.
And the media frenzy was reaching its zenith, Belle knew this by experience.
There were more of them when they surrounded Jack’s car thus Jack did not leave her in the shop.
He took her there, let her in, left her there (locking up behind him) and went to get her a decaf caramel latte (after he asked her preference). He brought back her coffee and one for him. Then he sat on the sales counter, sipping his coffee while she prepared to open. When she opened the store, he got off the counter and mingled and chatted (more like charmed) her many, many, many customers like this was not only his job but his calling.
Not to mention Belinda, her twenty-year old, starry-eyed shop assistant who Belle was certain was going to throw herself bodily at Jack’s feet and declare her undying love for him when he told them at lunchtime he was going to go out and buy them a sandwich.
When the door closed on Jack as he went to get their lunch, Belinda stared at it but asked Belle, “Can I have his baby too?”
“No,” Belle answered instantly.
“I wouldn’t share either, luvie,” a woman stated, standing across the store and staring at the door as well.
It was then, out the windows of her shop, that Belle saw the man.
He had dark brown hair, a rugged but handsome face and a tall, muscled body.
He was watching her through the windows and, normally, this would give her the creeps but there was something kindly in his expression that didn’t alarm Belle in the slightest.
After he’d caught her attention, he gave her a small smile, turned and walked away, giving her the impression it was just a chance moment of eye contact.
She put him out of her mind and got on with her day.
Jack had spent the day in St. Ives in her shop or with her when she was in her workshop, alternately talking on his phone or talking to Belinda and her customers, and then he took her home.
She escaped him the first moment she could, running to her room and changing into her Fat Day Jeans. She was going to have to buy new jeans soon, she’d already begun to design her maternity wardrobe and had even made a few pieces. She took the rug and went out to the sea, trying to understand her behaviour, Jack’s behaviour and wondering about her future.
Because this Jack, who seemed a permanent fixture (the multiple personalities had totally disappeared), was the Jack who slipped into her heart that night four months ago in a way she thought he’d never leave.
And this would mean she’d been wrong when she’d accused him of using her as a prize in a competition with his brother.
And that would mean that she’d thrown their night in his face, a night to her that was so magical she thanked her lucky stars for it. A night about which, at the time, she thought he’d felt the same thing.
Which would mean what she’d done was beyond rude. It was insulting and even unforgiveable.
But she couldn’t ignore the conversation she’d heard Joy and Yasmin having. And she couldn’t ignore the behaviour of Jack and Miles in the stables which proved true their obnoxious rivalry. And lastly she couldn’t ignore the way Jack himself had treated her when he was one of the different Jacks.
And she knew better not to proceed with caution.
She’d been hurt before, again and again (and again) in ways many women (luckily) never endured.
Belle knew the pain of a betrayal of trust hurt far worse than a fist slammed into your cheekbone or an arm twisting yours excruciatingly painfully up your back.
Therefore she knew better than to let anyone have that opportunity again.
On this thought, either her mind was so engrossed or the sound of the sea swallowed all other noises, because she missed the auditory warning of someone approaching and felt movement right at her back.
Before she knew what was happening, Jack settled behind her as she saw his legs surround her body, bent at the knees.
Then his arms slid around her at her waist and he pulled her back into his chest.
Belle’s body went still at both the memory of when he held her this way before and the beauty of being held that way now.
His mouth came to her ear and he whispered, “I see you out here and wonder what’s in your mind, poppet.”
“I come out here to clear my mind,” she told him honestly.