Day 25 :
Acton
2,206 Miles To Go
Blake Richards, but you can still call me Grinder
“What the fuck do we do?” Nova asks from his seat at the dining table.
“We can’t leave her here,” Bats states. I let out a loud huff as I fill the coffee carafe. “What?” he demands.
I turn off the faucet and cross to the coffee pot at the end of the counter. “Seems to me that in the month we’ve known her, once Belle’s made a decision, that’s that.”
“So I’m supposed to be okay letting her go when I didn’t do anything wrong?” Nova argues, still hurting from the sting of last night. I don’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, you’re damn right I’d be fighting to keep Belle.
“You tried talking to her?”
“You know I did.”
“And you?” I ask Bats.
Bats sighs, running a hand through his thickening beard as he tries to figure this out. While he reminds me of the guys on those backwoods reality shows about loggers or miners, it’s a pretty damn good look on him. Not that I’d ever try it.
“Could barely get a word out,” Bats admits. “She didn’t want to hear it. She’s convinced Kayden was cheating on her.”
Fuck. Just . . . Fuck. After learning about her and Bryce . . .
Nova doesn’t deserve this. He wasn’t at fault in the least. Anyone who sees the way he looks at Belle can tell he doesn’t have eyes for any other girl but her. It’s pretty easy to understand why too. Which is why I know what I need to do.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say, getting stunned expressions in response. “She won’t talk to either of you, which leaves me. If I can get her to listen to me, then I might be able to convince her of the truth.” Nova is stunned that I’d even suggest it. When I turn toward Bats, he seems pleased. “It’s what you’ve been suggesting, after all. Since Big Bear. Clear the air between us.”
Nova’s gaze bounces between the two of us. “Seriously? We’re going to trust him to convince Belle to stay?” he asks Bats.
“Yep,” Bats says with a satisfied grin. “Question is, how are you going to convince her to even open her door, Grinder?”
I grin and Nova swears under his breath. “I have an idea,” I tell them. “I’m going to need a few minutes, though. Can you two pop over to the camp store for some breakfast items? Maybe some pancake mix and bacon?”
Bats narrows his eyes at me. “What are you thinking?”
“That I need breakfast. Pancakes sound good,” I answer. “But in regard to Belle, probably something crazy that’s going to get me cussed out regardless whether it works or not.”
Bats looks at the open bag of grounds next to the coffee maker, putting two and two together. “Coffee, huh?” Bats asks, the corner of his lip twitching. Most likely annoyed he hadn’t thought of it first.
I shrug, leaning back against the counter. My pulse is picking up, because once I have the coffee, what the hell do I even say? “Gotta have an opening,” I respond. “I made Belle a promise. I’m going to keep it.” Even if I’ll never see her again, I don’t add.
Bats nods in agreement, then stands from his chair, pulling Nova up with him. “We’ll be outside when you’re done.” He grabs his wallet from his pack by the couch and pushes Nova ahead of him as they leave the cabin.
Once they’re gone, I return to making the coffee. I scoop out the right amount of grounds this time from the fresh pouch Autumn sent me. Closing the lid, I go in search of two mugs from the cabinets, placing them on the counter by the machine. Without any staples in the cupboards, I snag some powdered creamer and sugar packets from Bats’ pack, adding them to the mugs while I wait for the machine to finish.
The silence in the cabin is deafening as I try not to focus on how I have to get this next part just right. I’ve done presentations in front of a hundred people, but for some reason, I’m terrified to talk to one. No, terrified to talk to this one.
Through the door to her room, Belle’s phone rings. Her muffled voice answers it. At least she’s talking to someone. Maybe that’ll make it easier for her to talk to me.
The machine finishes brewing and I lift the pot to fill the two mugs, leaving enough for Bats and Nova. Picking up one of the mugs, I take a deep breath and turn toward Belle’s closed door. “Now or never,” I tell myself as I turn toward her door.
Belle’s voice gets clearer as I approach. “I can get a ride into LA. An Uber. A bus. Anything . . .”
Fuck. Am I too late? I wonder as my pulse skyrockets. I knock on the door.
“Can you book a ticket for me?” Belle asks.
I knock on the door again, hoping to stop the conversation before it can get any further.
“Even if I wanted to continue, there’s two weeks of food waiting for me at the next stop.”
Damn it. Of course she’s ignoring me. I knock louder.
“I can’t even begin to carry that much weight. So, yeah. That’s . . .”
I knock harder, damn near pounding on the door. I have to stop that call, but if I barge in there, I’m fucked.
I exhale when Belle growls loud enough to wake the neighbors, as stomping footsteps draw closer. I have just enough time to straighten up and hold out the mug of coffee before the door is flung open. The brown-haired vixen glares at me with anger in her eyes and I almost forget what I was going to say.
“What?” Belle demands. Her eyes drop to the coffee, and my eyes drop too. Shit. All she has on is a T-shirt and panties. And I’m pretty certain she’s not wearing a bra. My mouth goes dry at the sight of the woman in front of me. I jerk my eyes back up moments before hers raise to meet mine, confusion clouding her face. “Grinder?”
I plaster on my warmest, most sincere smile as I hold out my other hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Blake.”
Belle stands there stunned, her gaze drifts down to the coffee in my hand, then snaps back up to meet mine again. She lowers her phone and stares at me in disbelief before realization hits her. “How much did you hear?”
I lower my hand and fidget with the mug, but I don’t break eye contact. This might be the last time any of us look into those sky blue eyes, and I’m suddenly questioning why any of us thought letting me talk to her was a good idea. “Just the last bit. Something about an Uber or a bus to LA. Going somewhere, princess?”
Belle opens her mouth to answer. It hangs open for a moment before she closes it and crosses her arms across her chest. “Why are you here, Grinder? And is that coffee?”
I grin. “Yep. The best damn coffee you’ve tasted. As promised.”
“We called off the damn bet, and I really want to be left alone right now.” I give her a look that says, you damn well know why I’m here. She groans, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “Whatever. If I drink this, will you leave me alone to finish my call with Rachel?”
“Just try the coffee,” I tell her, holding the mug out in offering. “But we both know your problem isn’t with Rachel.”
She sighs like I’m being impossible. “It’s not with you either. But it’s starting to.”
I smirk that self-important smile of mine. Yeah, I know I do it. It pisses people off, but it works great at poker tables and business meetings. “Take a sip first.”
She lets out another long sigh, but reaches for the cup. My breathing stills as she raises it to her lips and takes a deep sip. She moans as she savors the taste. Listening to the beautiful sound causes something to stir deep inside. I wouldn’t mind making her moan like that under different circumstances.
“Holy shit, that’s good,” she admits. “What’s in it?”
“Sit and I’ll tell you. I’d like to drink mine too.” Belle shrugs, but takes another sip as she follows me to the dining table, sitting across from me in the chair closest to her room. I take a long sip from my own mug. “Cream and three sugars. Good call.”
I don’t miss the annoyance lacing her tone when she replies, “I know. Now, are you going to answer my question? Or can I go climb into the shower while I figure out what the fuck I’m going to do?”
“Arabica from Brazil,” I say, holding up a finger, then tick off the next two. “Beans with a vanilla flavor from Mexico. Caramel flavored beans from Colombia. It should taste like a caramel macchiato.”
She takes another sip, savoring the brew. When she swallows, her shoulders loosen a touch, like the coffee is taking the tension with it. “Where do you get a blend like that?”
“Well, Carlos owns the plantation in Brazil, Miguel the one in Mexico, and Arturo the one in Colombia.”
“Wait . . . You know the farmers? The actual farmers who grew these beans?”
“Father took me down to meet them the summer after my freshman year at Syracuse.”
She leans back, studying me as I sip from my cup. A dozen questions seem to be bouncing around that pretty head of hers. “The morning after the hot springs, I heard Bats accuse you of trying to hustle me. Why? Who the hell are you . . . Blake?”
I suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I fiddle with my mug. I’d anticipated her question, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to answer it. I push out my hang-ups with it. Or at least, enough of them. Some things . . . no, she is more important than my comfort. “You know my rule about talking about home . . .”
Belle lets out an aggravated huff. “Really? You’re going to pull that shit right now?”
I hold up a placating hand. She waves for me to continue, but she’s getting more annoyed by the minute. Not that I blame her. I need to get to the point. And I need to make it a good one.
“So you know I don’t like talking about this. But you deserve the truth.” This gets her attention. Or rather, it gets me a suspicious look with less annoyance. Good. “My family owns and operates Richards and Sons, a coffee roasting business on the East Coast. We sell from Maine to Georgia, and we’ll be expanding into the Great Lakes region next year.”
Belle stares at me in frozen disbelief. This is why I don’t tell women what my family does. I know the string of questions about to come out of her mouth. It’s the same every time.
Can I get free coffee? Sure. Stephen’s Market does samples on the weekend.