“You’re undercover, though, pretending to be in the pageant.”
She set her mug down a little firmer than necessary and her coffee sloshed over the edge. Her eyes were fire as she looked at him while sopping up the spill with her paper napkin.
“I’m not pretending to be anything, Holden. I’m in the pageant, a bona fide contestant.”
“You mean to tell me you’re going to take the scholarship if you win?”
She snorted, then giggled, then burst out into a belly laugh. “Holden, you are hilarious. Do you really think there’s any chance of me winning this competition? Have you even looked at the other women who are close to my age? They’ve been doing this far longer and have the system down.” She wiped her eyes with her hands. He’d made her cry, all right. To him, she was the clear winner in any competition.
“It’s a fair question.”
“It is. And if I won, I’d pass the scholarship on to my runner-up. But I have no reason to think I’m even in the top three. Gio used to say that by the end of day one it was pretty clear who the top five were. Trust me—it’s not me.”
“Who do you think it is, then?”
She tilted her head. “Marcie, because she’s been around and has all the right answers, Delilah because she’s Delilah, Leigh because even though she’s odd, she’s always on-brand, and maybe Becky. Do you know what’s going on with her?”
He nodded. “Spencer said she’s broken her ankle. It twisted when she was shoved down the backstage stairs. She’s out of the pageant.”
“Okay, so someone else is number four. And five could be any of the competitors, but definitely not me. The pageants haven’t had a debut contestant final in the last ten years.”
“You got this from Gio?”
She nodded. “Yes. Frankly, I have enough to write an exposé of the pageant industry in Mustang Valley, maybe even Arizona, from all that Gio’s told me. But I can only corroborate it with her mother. It’s not enough. And for the record? I think Leigh’s a shoo-in to win. She’s a little over-the-top with her positive-thinking preaching, but I sense she has a heart of gold. She has the enthusiasm needed to win.” Bella’s candor and total unselfconsciousness tugged at something deep in his chest. A small part of the glacier that was otherwise known as his heart broke away. He couldn’t hold back what he knew had to be a silly grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Aww, nothing. Just thinking about how glaciers calve icebergs.”
“Some the size of small continents lately.” She alluded to climate change, but like a true reporter didn’t reveal how she felt about it. Which made him respect, and like her even more.
Like or lust?
He definitely was attracted to Bella—insanely so. But for the first time in forever, he was also impressed by a woman’s sense of honor, integrity. Nothing like his ex.
“Now you’re frowning, Holden.” He liked how his name sounded on her lips. Crisp but a loving roll to it.
“I’m thinking I may owe you an apology.”
“Why is that? Are you done?” She nodded at hi
s empty plate, then carried it to the sink when he raised his hands.
“Thanks.” He grabbed their mugs and glasses and set them on the counter. “Breakfast was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulled out latex gloves and he took them from her.
“I’ll clean up. You cooked—you’re done.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“Please.” He didn’t budge, didn’t let his gaze drift to where the tank top bared her shoulder and the lone angel drawn on it. An angel the size of a tiny fairy rested on her skin, its pink wings and hair unmistakably feminine.
“Fine. But tell me why you’re so against reporters while you clean up.”
She was so close, her scent teasing him as it had last night. Washing dishes was going to be his most difficult task to date on this case.
At least it kept his hands busy, and off Bella.