They’d been incredibly compatible in bed.
“Tell me again about your ex. Why you hate reporters and have never changed your mind about them.”
He set down his cutlery, sipped through the straw for a moment. When his gaze met hers, she noticed the fine lines at the edges of his eyes. Her fingers itched to smooth them. “You tell me, Bella. You’re the one who’s putting her life at stake to get the answers you want to avenge your best friend’s death. A death, I might add, that was the result of her choices over the years.”
“That’s cold. No one chooses to be sick with an eating disorder or any other mental illness.”
“You chose to write about it.” He took a long swig of his soda. “Tell me you’ll write anything other than what you’ve already decided will be the story.”
Indignation rushed over her, and she was grateful for the semi-fancy restaurant or she’d recook his fish right here, with a votive added in for pleasure. “I do not prewrite my stories. That’s the epitome of the worst kind of reporter. It’s not reporting—it’s creative writing.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve never embellished story details to get a better headline?” His derision scraped against the trust she had felt building toward him.
“No, I haven’t. Sure, the Mustang Valley Gabber isn’t the Wall Street Journal, but our, my work ethic and personal ethics have stayed the same.”
“Yet you want to ask me what I know about Selina Barnes Colton.” His lack of empathy was chilling. What had triggered him?
“Of course I do, if you know her or anything about what’s going on with Payne Colton. You can see why I would, don’t you? It could be foul play that landed him in a coma. How do we know it wasn’t Selina behind it?”
“We don’t. But I’ve found the press to be a bit rabid over a man who’s been good to his community his entire life.”
“Many wealthy people’s companies have given lots of money to charity.”
“Answer me this, Bella. If you found out that I knew the story behind Selina but couldn’t tell you about it, what would you do? Would you try to force it out of me?”
“I’d do my journalistic duty to get the information from you, yes. You can’t blame me for trying to do my job!”
“I can if it compromises an active investigation.”
His resolute expression struck a chord with her. What had she been thinking, going to bed with him last night? She didn’t know him. Maybe Spencer vouched for him, and Jarvis thought he was a good guy, but the side she was seeing now wasn’t the man she’d thought she’d known.
How can you really know someone after only a few days?
“I need to use the restroom. Excuse me.” Before he stood up and tried to tell her he needed to follow her, as part of his protection role, she darted into the hall behind the bar, where the rooms were located.
Bella couldn’t believe it but she had to get away from Holden before he saw what his words did to her. This wasn’t like her, to get emotional over something a man said to her. She’d had a rough start in life, and she was thirty-one, not some adolescent being chastised by her first-ever boss. Still, Holden’s words had stung, burrowed under her thick skin and found what she valued most.
Her passion for finding the truth and writing it into a succinct report.
After she splashed some cold water on her face and gave herself time to calm down, she headed toward the dining area. Laughter spilled from a room farther back in the café and she saw a big sign with gilded letters that welcomed a baby shower party.
Standing by the sign were Marlowe and Ainsley Colton, her distant cousins. She couldn’t stop from staring. Marlowe’s stomach was huge, and Bella vaguely remembered that she heard she was pregnant and engaged. But that had been months ago and Marlowe appeared near the end of her pregnancy, or maybe she was having multiples. Each of the women wore springy dresses and sandals—Ainsley’s were high spikes while Marlowe’s were lower and chunkier, offering her more support—and were laughing, their heads close together. A tight pang of exactly how alone she was when it came to the Coltons made her wish she knew them better. Why had her parents disengaged from the family? And why did Aunt Amelia keep up the same type of emotional walls that made Bella, Jarvis and Spencer the estranged cousins?
As if her presence drew their attention, they both looked over, spotted her and turned toward her at the same time. Panic gripped Bella but she found herself walking toward them, smiling.
“Bella! It’s so nice to see you.” Ainsley spoke first, and Bella couldn’t help but notice how all three of them were petite.
“Yes, it’s been so long.” Marlowe’s soft smile showed none of the malice she’d remembered as a kid, from when they’d be at a Colton reunion on Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch. No one had ever played with her or her brothers. Bella had used the time at the picnics to wander through the immense home, imagining she was a princess and it was her private castle. It had always been her, Spencer and Jarvis. Which had served them all well, and she loved her brothers with all her heart. But it would be nice to know more family.
“We were so sorry to hear about your friend Gio.” Marlowe never lacked for grace. As the current CEO of Colton Oil, she was a consummate diplomat. But her sincerity felt genuine.
“You knew?” She let out a nervous laugh. “Of course you did, it’s Mustang Valley, after all.”
“I wanted to go to the funeral, to support you, but I never really knew Gio and it seemed the wrong time to reconnect with you.” Ainsley’s eyes were moist. Was she that concerned about Bella’s loss?
“That’s nice of you to say that.” An unexpected and unusual shyness enveloped her. Maybe the events of the last few days were finally catching up with her. Deciding to run for Ms. Mustang Valley, meeting Holden, getting attacked, surviving the explosion—how had her life become an action movie instead of the usual steady one she’d built to support
her writing routine?