Then she’d found out he’d left her and the kids penniless. He’d been bleeding the company dry, embezzling funds for the past three years. There was nothing left—even the house had three liens on it. Jessica had accused Belle of spending all her dad’s money, and Belle hadn’t bothered to explain the situation. She didn’t want to sully Jessica’s memory of her father.
Homeless, penniless, and bankrupt, Belle had moved her family to Pinewood Springs. It had been the best decision she’d made. Except for her long hours at work, she’d tried to make a normal home for her son and daughter. Her daughter hadn’t dealt with her father’s death very well, and she’d been acting out by drinking and ignoring her curfew. In the last year, Belle had fought with her daughter more than she had with anyone else in her whole life. She was at her wits’ end with Emily. Belle really didn’t know what to do.
She drained her wine glass. Being with Banger reminded her how good it could feel to be with someone attractive and sexy, but she’d have to dispel those thoughts. Her life was too busy, and she had to put her daughter back on track. She didn’t have time for dating, and the last thing she had time for was to fall in love. No damn way was she going to let that happen.
She washed out her glass, turned off the lights, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
* * *
Around two o’clock the following day, a loud rumble rolled to the back of the diner, and Belle looked up from a pot of bubbling beef stew just as Banger walked in. Her face flushed and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her when she saw him scoot his long, denim-clad legs into a booth. His blond hair was secured in a ponytail, and a glint bounced off the earring in his left ear. He wore a black T-shirt and from where she stood, she saw the bulge of his bicep. Not thick and ripped like he worked out, just tight and defined as though he was used to manual labor. Blue, red, black, green, and yellow ink twisted on his tanned skin as he moved his arms. When they’d gone out the previous night, Banger had worn long sleeves, so she hadn’t noticed any tattoos. Watching him as he sat, the menu in his large hands, Belle held her breath in anticipation. She wanted to see his tats up close, trace them with her tongue as he explained what they meant.
Stop it! Right. Now.
Something searing hot splashed on her hand. Belle looked down and noticed the beef stew was boiling rapidly. Cursing under her breath, she turned the flame to low, hoping she hadn’t burned the house special. And all because she couldn’t keep her eyes off Banger. How stupid and juvenile was that? After all, she was a thirty-eight-year-old mother of two, hardly a young twenty-something looking for a boyfriend. She shook her head—she was acting ridiculous.
As Belle took out the homemade rolls for the stew, Ruthie came into the kitchen, her hand on her hip, her deep-set brown eyes twinkling. “Go on and take your break. Jerome can cover. You got a customer who wants to talk to you.”
Belle’s mouth went dry and shivers trembled up her spine. “Who?” she asked, even though she knew it was Banger. She was stalling for time so her body would calm down.
“Banger. Now go on and get.” Ruthie blew on a spoon of beef stew before she took a taste. “Damn, this is good. They’ll be lining up for it tonight.”
Belle smiled weakly then rushed to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t have flour all over her. She swiped on another layer of apricot lipstick and a smear of clear gloss, took a deep breath, and willed herself to stop shaking. She walked out toward his table.
“Hey there,” she greeted him, her voice much more confident than she felt.
A huge smile cracked Banger’s face, and she liked how his eyes lit up when he scanned hers. “Hiya, beautiful.” He straightened against the seat and gestured for her to sit down.
She sat opposite him, their gazes locked together, neither saying anything. Belle cleared her throat. “So I must be doing something right if you’re coming back so soon for another meal.” Her laugh sounded forced and too high. Damn. Get a grip. He’s just a man. A gorgeous, sexy, intriguing man. Stop!
“You’re doing a lot of things right.” His gaze dropped down to her chest then back to her face, and he winked at her.
Uncomfortable, she pulled out a napkin from the dispenser and began wiping the table. “You’ll have to try the beef stew and homemade rolls. I’m not bragging, but they came out great.” She kept wiping the table.
His warm hand stopped her frenzied movement, and her gaze shot up to his. “Pretty sure the table is more than clean.”
She laughed, even though the butterflies in her stomach were twirling around. “I guess you’re right.” Belle leaned back stiffly against the seat, his hand still covering hers. It was nice to feel the strong warmth; it made her feel safe and comforted. What the hell is wrong with you? So he’s holding your hand. Big deal. “Were you in the neighborhood?” she asked.