Surprisingly, Mitch met Belle’s gaze head-on, apparently not anywhere near as intimidated by her fierce frown as her employees were. “It means that you have a tendency to throw yourself into everything you do without caring about how it impacts you.”
“Wait,” Belle said, finally managing to lift her hand. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“Well, it is. Or it can be.” Mitch paused. “When you’re so busy taking on all the responsibility for the world, who takes care of you? Who makes sure that you don’t overdo things?”
Belle bit her tongue. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but she also needed to work with him. “I have people in my life who make sure I don’t go too far.”
Or they tried to. Usually, Rory had the best luck reining Belle in, but even she didn’t always succeed. Jasmine had given up trying except for the odd gently worded suggestion when Belle was really pushing it. Ariel wasn’t around to see how she chose to live her life, but every once in a while, Belle would answer her phone to find her other older sister on the line. Most often, the conversation began with a big sigh, then a comment on how Rory was worried about her and had asked Ariel to call.
“Well, I think you’ve probably done enough for today,” Mitch said. “The lower half of the wall is pretty much all gone.”
Belle turned to look at it, a bit surprised to see that he was right. And though she wasn’t all that keen on calling it a day already, she was pretty sure she couldn’t lift the hammer for another swing. “Do I need to clean this up?”
“Nope. We’ll be cleaning it all up at the end of the day, but how about we grab a bite to eat?”
“Are you kidding?” Belle asked. “I’m a mess.”
“So am I. That’s why we’ll find a food cart somewhere nearby.”
Belle couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten from a food cart, but she was hungry enough to consider it right then. Normally keeping busy meant she didn’t have much time to eat, but the physical activity had used up whatever energy her breakfast had given her, and she needed something more.
“Okay. Food cart fare it is.”
Mitch gave her a smile of what looked like approval. “Sounds good. Let’s get out of here.”
As they walked toward the entrance, Belle pulled off the gloves and safety glasses. At the door, Mitch took them from her. “If you want, you can keep the hard hat and bring it with you any time you come to visit the site. That way you have it even if I’m not here.”
Belle took the hat off and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing at the dampness present around her roots. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was even up to food cart dining standards. “Ugh. Sweat head.”
Mitch laughed as he held the door open for her. Thankfully, there was a breeze that lifted strands of her hair, helping it to not stick to her head. Still, she was pretty sure she was looking more than a little worse for wear. She went to her car and unlocked it to put the hard hat inside.
“Do you want to just ride in my truck?” Mitch asked. “We aren’t going too far away, so I can bring you back to your car afterward.”
Belle hesitated then grabbed her purse from where she’d tucked it under the edge of the passenger side front seat. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure going with Mitch was a good idea, so if this time together went awry, she was going to blame it on hunger.
She stepped back from the car and closed the door. “Sure. That works.”
“Great. I’m parked just down here.” Mitch pointed to a large truck with the business logo on the side.
Belle wondered if there would actually be room for her in the vehicle. She knew that when she was on a job, her car tended to overflow with all the things she needed. All the extra, just-in-case items that she brought with her to a wedding. Some might say it was excessive, but all it took was having one thing that someone had forgotten, whether it was hairspray or tissues or pens for the guestbook, that reinforced that having it all on hand was a good plan.
When Mitch opened the door, she saw that at least the front seat was free from debris. She reached for the handle above the door and used it to pull herself up into the high truck. After Mitch closed the door, Belle glanced over her shoulder. Not surprising, there was a bit more junk on the seat behind them, but still not as much as she had thought there would be.
“Are you okay with a hotdog or should we look for a different type of food truck?” Mitch asked as he settled behind the wheel of the truck.
He pulled off his hard hat and ran his hand through his hair before grabbing a ball cap that was sitting on the dash and settling it on his head. He reached over to put the hard hat on the back seat. When he turned back around, he had another ball cap in his hand. “Would you like one?”
Belle eyed the hat with what she was sure looked a bit like disdain—because it was. She had never worn one in her life, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to start now. Instead, she flipped down the visor and peered at her reflection in the mirror. And conceded defeat.
With a sigh, she held out her hand, and when Mitch gave her the cap, Belle hoped she sounded sincere when she said, “Thank you.”
“Say it like you mean it, Princess,” Mitch said, laughter in his voice.
So clearly the sincerity hadn’t been as apparent as she’d hoped it would be. And Princess? Other guys had tried the nickname out on her before, and she’d been quick to set them straight. Why she wasn’t doing the same with Mitch, she had no idea. Maybe she just didn’t want to upset the person who was in charge of helping her out.
But if he wanted a princess, she’d give him a princess.
“My lifestyle doesn’t support the use of ball caps,” Belle informed him, interjecting just a bit of a haughty lilt into her voice. It was a tone she and her sisters had often used with each other growing up, each of them attempting to out-princess the others. It was always a toss-up if it would be her or Ariel who would win.
“Then I would suggest you change your lifestyle. Everyone should have a reason to wear a ball cap.” Mitch pulled away from the curb. “So, hot dogs or nah?”
“Well, I guess if I’ve incorporated ball caps into my life now,” Belle said as she pulled on the cap, “I’ll just dive all the way in and go for a hotdog.”
“That’s how to do it, Princess. We’ll have you down here with all us commoners in no time.” Mitch gave her a quick grin before turning onto Main Street.
Belle hoped that he didn’t really think she considered herself above him or anyone else. The fact that she’d showed up to get sweaty and dirty should have shown him that.
“Do you want to get out and find a place to sit while we eat?” Mitch asked as he pulled into a metered parking spot.
There were food trucks and carts along the street and sidewalks, as well as several benches and other places to sit. She had been by the area when it had been far busier, but they were there a little past the usual lunchtime rush. “We can sit here, I guess.”
And hope that no one who knew her recognized her in her current state. The ballcap would no doubt help hide her identity. Mitch jumped out and came around to open the door while she adjusted the cap on her head. Once she had slid out of the truck onto the sidewalk, Mitch closed the door and then headed to the parking meter.
After he’d taken care of that, they walked down the sidewalk, pausing by each food truck to discuss whether their food offering was what they wanted. In the end, Belle decided to indulge herself, so she ordered a hotdog and poutine. After the work she’d done that morning, she figured it was allowed.
With Mitch carrying their food and Belle with a drink in each hand, they walked to a nearby bench and sat down. Mitch set the food down on the bench between them, then asked, “Do you mind if I say grace for the food?”
“No. Of course not,” Belle said and then bowed her head as he said a quick prayer for their food. As she listened to him pray, Belle felt a keen sense of rightness. That the decision she’d made to go with Mitch and his family business was a good one.
Once he’d finished praying, Mitch picked up his drink and took a sip through the straw. Belle lifted hers for a drink as well, resisting the urge to suck back the whole thing. Suddenly, something to drink seemed even more important than something to eat—even if it was French fries and white cheese curds smothered in gravy.
Once her thirst had been satisfied, Belle picked up the container with the poutine and took a bite, just barely able to keep from moaning her appreciation of the flavors. She needed to indulge more often. Or maybe not.
“Taste okay?” Mitch asked. “They claim their poutine is the best, but you know…sometimes it’s a matter of taste.”
“It’s really good. I don’t eat it often so when I do indulge, I’m glad it’s tasty.”
“Belle?”
The voice sent chills chased by fear down her spine. Belle froze, not turning to see who it was since she already knew. She wondered if she could just get away with ignoring him. When she glanced at Mitch, she found him watching her with an expectant look on his face.
“Belle.” His voice held an edge of annoyance at her lack of reaction
As anxiety caused a knot to form in her stomach, Belle looked over to find Andre Moreau standing just feet away from her, looking as handsome as ever in a slate gray suit. His hair was grayer than she remembered, but it was still professionally styled. She took shallow breaths as she tried to maintain her composure. It had been over a year since she’d last seen him, which certainly wasn’t long enough.
“My dear, I didn’t think I’d run into you here. Eating this type of food.” She heard the derision in his tone and saw it on his face. “Maybe you should be keeping better company.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the food or the company,” Belle told him, struggling to keep other words from spilling out along with those.
Mitch got to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m Mitchell Callaghan. And you are?”
For a moment, Belle thought Andre would ignore Mitch’s hand, but then he reached out and gave it a quick shake. “Andre Moreau. Belle’s significant other.”
That brought Belle to her feet. “My ex. We haven’t been together for five years, Andre. And that’s never going to change.”
“That’s because you’re operating under the delusion that you’re better off without me.” Andre’s gaze drifted from her head down to her feet. “I’ve definitely seen you looking better.”
Old familiar feelings surged to the surface, threatening to drown all the confidence and self-assurance she’d struggled to embrace since realizing she had to leave Andre or lose herself forever. Emotions wove a tight fist around her lungs, making it hard to formulate a response.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with how she looks,” Mitch said, his tone hard. “It reveals more about you that you would say such a thing to a woman. And if she says she has moved on from you, I would suggest you move on from her.”
Andre’s features tightened in a familiar expression of anger. Belle had seen it far too often during their time together, and she hated that just five minutes in his presence had fear and anxiety coming to life within her once again.
“She’ll never be yours,” Andre mocked. “You might think she will be, but you’d be wrong.”
When Mitch took a step in Andre’s direction, Belle reached out to grab onto Mitch’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”
Andre smirked at them then spun around and walked away.
Mitch turned and placed a hand on her back, putting himself between her and Andre’s retreating form. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Belle lifted a hand and stepped away from Mitch. “Apologies to your significant other for not correcting Andre’s assumption.”
“Don’t worry about that. I don’t have a significant other at the moment.”
Belle sank down on the bench again and picked up her drink. Her mouth had gone completely dry from the encounter, and her appetite had fled.
As if realizing that, Mitch began to pack up their meal. “Why don’t we head back to the building?”
Belle nodded, needing to get back to her car so she could head home. She was grateful that Mitch didn’t press the issue as he drove them back. It was only when he had parked the truck but made no move to get out that he said something.
“Are you safe?” he asked.
“What?”
“Is that guy dangerous?”
“Not physically. Or at least he hasn’t been toward me. I haven’t seen him in over a year.” She paused. “He does send or deliver flowers to the boutique every single week though.”
“Would what happened today escalate things?”
“I don’t know,” Belle said as she stared out the front windshield of the truck. “I’m not sure he really wants me back—at least not as his girlfriend. I think he just wants to remind me that he’s still out there. Pretty sure he hasn’t been without a girlfriend for these past few years. That isn’t how he works. He needs someone to keep under his thumb, and since I left, I’m sure he’s found someone else.”
“How long were you with him?” Mitch asked.
Belle looked down at her hands, clenching them together in her lap, aware that her answer would make her appear weak. “Too long. I stayed much longer than I should have, but he’d managed to convince me that I was better off with him.” Her stomach knotted. “And I believed him.”
There was silence for a few minutes before Mitch spoke again. “I’m glad you found the strength to get away from him. And even though I don’t know what exactly he said to you while you were together, I can tell you that none of it was true. And none of what he said earlier today was true either.”
Belle heard the ring of truth in Mitch’s voice, and the knot in her stomach loosened a bit. She just wished she could travel back in time and tell her nineteen-year-old self to not be entranced by the thirty-year-old man who showered her with flowers and compliments and all the romantic things that women generally long for. Things that she’d thought she wanted. He had swept her off her feet, promising her things that made her feel loved and cherished. Important. He had reeled her in as surely as a fisherman reels in a big catch.
“I need to go,” Belle said as she reached for the door handle.
Mitch’s hand on her arm stopped her, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “If it turns out that Moreau does get back in contact with you or tries to threaten you in any way, make sure you call the police.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, seeing concern on his face once again. “I don’t think he’ll bother me, but if it comes to that, I’ll contact them.”
He squeezed her arm gently then let go. “Take care of yourself, Princess. Call me if you need to talk or if you need anything. And you’re welcome to come to the building at any time, just be sure to bring your hard hat.”
“I will. Thanks for lunch.” She gave him a quick smile before opening the door and sliding out of the truck to the sidewalk.
Before Mitch could say anything further, she closed the truck door and headed for her car. She didn’t hesitate to get behind the wheel and pull away from the curb. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, she tried to focus on the traffic even as her thoughts remained on the encounter with Andre.
Looking back, she still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to fall for his tricks. For his mind games. It was like she had more of her mother in her than she’d realized. It had taken far too long, but when she’d finally come to her senses, she had resolved to never again fall for pretty words and romantic gestures. The number that Andre had done on her had helped to build the walls she now reinforced on a daily basis.
And even though she found Mitch Callaghan interesting, he wasn’t the man for her. In fact, there was no man for her. She had her life organized in such a way that she didn’t need anyone else to be a part of it in order for her to feel complete.