Chapter 23

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

B elle checked and then double-checked for her ID and the paperwork she needed to show the judge in Tallahassee. She sighed as she sank onto the bed, because darkness still breathed over Jackson Hole, and she could imagine the biting sting the air would sink into her lungs the moment she stepped outside.

“Lord,” she whispered. “Please let the Agatha at the shelter in Tallahassee be the woman I’ve been looking for.”

It seemed fitting that her first case back in missing person’s had taken her all over the place, and the latest word was that the woman she’d feared dead had actually left everything she owned—literally everything—and skipped town of her own free will. And she’d been living two thousand miles away, in Tallahassee.

How she’d even gotten there, Belle couldn’t fathom. There had to be something strong driving her, and Belle’s heart hurt that Rhonda had been in such fear as to leave behind photos of her children, all of her identification, her marriage certificate though her husband had died a couple of years ago, and simply left.

Vanished.

Belle had vanished ten months ago, at least in the eyes of anyone who’d known her. Admittedly, that wasn’t very many people. Probably more felines than actual human beings. The thought made her smile, and while Belle hadn’t gotten any cats since her return from the casino money laundering scheme, she had returned to Jackson Hole.

Ben had asked her where she’d like to be placed, and she’d immediately chosen missing persons. She wanted to find the one who’d been lost, who’d wandered astray, who needed someone to come looking just for them.

Oh, she had stories about her time undercover, but Belle had lived it once, then re-lived it when she wrote her reports, and was now going through it all again for a third time as prosecutors for the Wyoming District Attorney’s office prepared for the trial against Stanley Ford, Gregorio Mazetti, and the Buffalo Casino Company—which was just a front for money laundering.

The casino was closed now. The company had declared bankruptcy. The Italian mob family had hired really good lawyers. Belle had come back to Jackson, and she’d only been here for three weeks.

Her to-do list, both at work and in her personal life, was still wildly out of control, and she dealt with the closest burning fire at all times.

“It’ll be warmer in Tallahassee than here,” she told herself, and that much was true. She didn’t have to travel a ton for her job, and she bent down and zipped up the top of her backpack.

She thought for half a second about texting Harry Young, but then an alarm went off on her phone, and Belle reached to silence it instead. Besides, she hadn’t texted with him for months now, and she could admit she’d looked at his social media from time to time.

Every post showed him in his funky T-shirts, holding his guitar, and either smiling or singing. He kept his fans up-to-date on the progress of his upcoming album, and if the public peeks into his personal life were to be believed, he was almost done.

While undercover, and to this day, she couldn’t even believe she had Harry’s number or could text him whenever she wanted. If only she was brave enough to let him know her undercover assignment had finished.

Part of her didn’t believe he’d be interested in her. Every time she let those thoughts enter her mind, she thought of that kiss at his cousin’s wedding. That had not been fake on any level, and Belle flipped her phone over and over in her palm, though she should be leaving for the airport.

Belle smiled just thinking of him, and she gave her guitar in the corner a cursory glance as she got to her feet. She put her pack over the handle of her carryon and headed outside the apartment Larry had found for her when everything had blown up at the casino and Belle had “been arrested” and brought back to Jackson Hole.

Outside, the early spring kicked against her lungs, and Belle cursed herself for not insisting on a garage. She made the drive to the airport as the sun started to lighten the land, but she still entered the building to only grays and whites in the sky. Of course, the Wyoming landscape was still waking up from the long winter. Trees had only been gray, beige, or white for months, and the leaves had just started to green up and bud in the past week.

She wasn’t a big traveler, and every time she came to the Jackson airport, she had to take a moment to get her bearings. She always felt a little too bulky, though she wasn’t wearing her Sherriff’s Department vest today. Her hair was likewise down, and Belle told herself to blend in. Find her gate, grab some coffee, and just relax.

You’re not working , she told herself as she watched a man move past her. She didn’t need to notice every little detail here, and Belle put her blinders on and started walking. She knew she worked too much, but she didn’t know how to cut back. Ben had told her to take a few weeks off before she dove back into her department work, but she didn’t know what to do with herself all day.

So she ended up back at the office, and she’d picked up a single case out of sheer luck. Sometimes, she thought she should’ve taken Ben’s advice and simply taken some time off. “You are,” she told herself.

After she appeared before the judge and checked the shelter, Belle was continuing to Destin, Florida for a few days of beach-relaxation time.

She’d be thirty later this year, and something about the number had her questioning everything. “Yeah,” she muttered as she spotted a coffee kiosk ahead. “Probably because you have a two-bedroom rental and a guitar to show for the first three decades of your life.”

Not even a cat anymore.

Oh, and that unrealized dream of plucking and crooning her way into the hearts of millions across the globe. Harry now crowded into her brain, elbowing other thoughts out of the way.

But she would not use him. She absolutely would not. She knew what that felt like, and she wouldn’t knowingly do it to another human being, especially one as sweet and kind as Harry Young. He’d probably be upset she hadn’t texted him the moment she could’ve been herself again.

Before she’d gone undercover, she’d joked about his and Adam’s plain names and how they were meant for each other. He’d told her things about how he didn’t like to fly, how his confidence ebbed and flowed, and how much he missed his family in Coral Canyon.

Belle had taken everything he’d told her and stuffed it into her heart. So, no, she wouldn’t be asking him for contacts in the country music industry or anywhere else. Her sound was far too grunge for that anyway, and she’d stopped playing the guitar about seven years ago on top of that.

She went through the line, got her coffee, and found her gate with plenty of time to spare. That’s another thing you’ve done in thirty years , she told herself. You’re always on time.

Like that was the top desirable trait a person could develop, or that it took three decades to perfect. She scoffed at herself, because Belle knew her life was stale, stale, stale, despite the undercover assignment.

She kept her blinders on as she stared out the window of the airport and sipped her coffee. Ever the responsible one, she stopped about halfway through so she wouldn’t be too hopped up when the plane took off, and so she wouldn’t have to use the bathroom four times on the way to Florida.

People moved about her, but she didn’t pay attention to them. She cleared her email, answering the most important ones. She even managed to ignore the conversations around her until there were none.

In fact, everything surrounding her felt like it had disappeared. Just dropped off. The noise, the activity, all of it.

Belle’s skin prickled a warning at her, and she finally looked up from her phone. Sure enough, she was the only passenger still waiting in several rows of chairs, and her heartbeat leapt up and banged in the back of her throat. “Did I miss my plane?”

Or worse, had they closed the airport, and she hadn’t heard the announcement? Was there a threat?

Her pulse raced; her police training kicked in.

She looked right and saw other people down the way, most of them looking her direction. Or past her. “Strange,” she murmured. Number one, Jackson Hole got a lot of celebrities, so famous-people-sightings weren’t all that rare here. And she certainly wasn’t anyone to look at.

She turned left and quickly flinched back when someone asked, “Are any of these seats taken, ma’am?” in a strong, Southern accent.

Belle blinked and looked up at the man in a long, black coat, black trousers, with a hint of a blue dress shirt showing through the open front of his jacket.

Oh, butterflies and biscuits. She knew that face.

Adam Harmon.

And that meant Harry Young had to be close by. Very close by.

Belle’s heartbeat ran wild now, cheering as it went through her veins. She wasn’t even sure why. She hadn’t seen Harry in person in almost a year, and she hadn’t texted with him in months. Still, she managed to say, “No, sir.”

Adam rewarded her with a warm, wide smile and turned to look over his shoulder. He gestured to someone and as he stepped out of the way, the glorious sight of Harry Young filled Belle’s vision.

Her tongue felt like someone had put hot glue on it, then dumped a load of sawdust. Thankfully, her eyelids still knew how to blink, and her lungs still inflated and deflated with air as she breathed in and out.

Harry glanced at Adam and said, “Thanks, brother. If you could just give me a few minutes.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Adam said, ever the professional, and he went back the way Harry had come. Belle looked around, realizing he’d somehow set up an entire perimeter around her—and she hadn’t even noticed. Her gaze flew back to Harry’s, where it locked into place.

Harry grinned at her and said, “It’s really you.” He indicated the seat right beside her. “Can I?”

“Yes,” she choked out, sure this wasn’t happening. She also couldn’t look away from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Going home,” he said. “Well, going back to Nashville.” He reached over and took her hand in his. His skin radiated warmth, and his touch felt so welcome and so open. She almost started crying at the human, personal touch, something she hadn’t had in such a long time.

Her fingers felt like lumps of ice compared to his, but she warmed as he continued to smile at her. “What about you?”

“Florida,” grated through her throat. “I have a case there.” His eyebrows went up, and Belle managed to align her fingers in his. “And—I mean, then I’m going on vacation, actually.” She rolled her head to stretch her neck. “Apparently, I need to de-stress.”

Harry grinned at her, and he seemed so at-ease. Questions streamed through her, but she didn’t want to start throwing them at him too soon or too fast.

“Florida?” he asked. “You have a case in Florida? Did you change jobs?”

She shook her head, glad her hair was down today. “A case here has led there.”

“Ah, got it.” Harry looked out the window in front of them and exhaled slowly. He didn’t immediately head into the next conversation topic, and Belle’s mind had gone horribly blank.

After only a few seconds—which felt like an hour—he turned back to her. “I can’t—can I come to Florida with you? For your vacation. Where are you going?”

“Destin,” ghosted out of her mouth. It might as well have been a yes, please come with me, Harry!

His smile filled the whole airport with light, and Belle’s gaze dropped to his mouth. She’d only gotten to kiss him that one time, and it was nowhere near enough.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, looking away from her. “I can pay my own way.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was worried about,” Belle said dryly. She felt more like herself than she had in months, and that sure felt…nice.

Harry chuckled and squeezed her hand. “My flight’s about to take off. But I really do need to hear you say, ‘Yes, Harry, come to Destin, and I’ll text you all the details of my vacation there,’ before I ask Adam to arrange it all for me.”

“No sense in making more work for the man if it’s not necessary.”

“Precisely.” Harry looked at her again, something open and vulnerable on his face, riding in his eyes. “I’m finished with the album.”

“You are?” Belle reached over and ran her fingertips down the side of his face. “Then why are you going back to Nashville?”

His smile slipped, only shining halfway on his face now. That was somehow as glorious as the full thing, and Belle had the sudden and painful realization of how deep her loneliness had become.

“Tying up loose ends,” he said. “Packing the apartment. Adam and I will move up here in a couple of weeks.” He sat up and pulled his hand back to his own lap. “I told myself that if it was you, that it meant something. That I shouldn’t just walk on by. That I should say something.”

Belle wasn’t sure what that meant, so she just watched him. When he didn’t continue, she said, “So say something.”

He chuckled and ducked his head, that big cowboy hat covering his handsome face as he did. “Well, Miss Belle, at the risk of getting rejected in person instead of over a video date or a text, I guess I’ll just say this….”

Harry looked up, that intensity in his eyes that Belle had seen in some of his videos and posts. “I’m—I want to see you. Maybe it’s our year.”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t wait to be back in Coral Canyon. Bought myself a house and everything.”

“That’s great, Harry,” she said, and her pulse pirouetted through her body.

“I know it’s not Jackson, but I’ll be retired, and I have a car. And seeing you here…I’d love to go to dinner with you and start to really get to know you.” He swallowed, and Belle found that the most surprising thing he’d said or done.

Not that he’d cleared the area around her without her noticing, though that had been quite the feat. Not that she’d run into him here, in a public airport. Not that he’d asked her out again, though that still astonished her greatly .

But that he seemed nervous to do it.

He was the great Harry Young, the rarest talent on the guitar in this generation, the world-famous country music star, the man with a voice of honeyed gold.

She was nobody, and that fact alone kept her from immediately agreeing to go to dinner with him.

But she did say, “I’d love it if you’d come to Destin, Harry, and I’ll text you all the details of my vacation there.”