Page 40 of Stitch & Steel
Something shifted in her eyes then.
She reached out and took the bouquet, fingers brushing mine.
“Let me just grab my jacket,” she whispered.
And just like that, I exhaled.
Eleven
BELLA
I was halfwaythrough curling my hair when my phone buzzed across the counter. Again.
KASEYflashed on the screen, for maybe the third time this week. I winced. I'd ignored the last two texts. And the last call.
With a sigh, I set the curling iron down and picked up.
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual, like I hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth.
“Girl,” Kasey’s voice fired back like a rocket, “I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. What the hell, Bella? You’ve been ghosting me.”
“I haven’t been ghosting. I’ve just been… adjusting,” I mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed, my sundress still laid out across it like a silent accusation.
“Adjusting to what? Cabin life? Mountain goats? It’s been three weeks and you’ve barely texted back more than an emoji. I was about to send a search party.”
I laughed under my breath. “I’m fine. Just been helping Gran and, you know, settling into the slower pace.”
She made a dramatic snort. “Slower pace my ass. Something’s going on. You don’t ghost unless you’re either spiraling or crushing. So which is it?”
I hesitated.
A beat passed. And then another.
“Well…” I started slowly. “There is someone.”
“HA! I knew it! I knew there was a man behind your mysterious silence. Spill.”
“It’s not like that. I mean… not exactly. It’s complicated.”
Kasey’s voice went dreamy. “Is he a rugged mountain man? A bearded lumberjack? A plaid-wearing, axe-swinging bear?”
“Try tatted-up biker,” I muttered.
Dead silence.
Then—“Wait. What?”
“His name’s Logan. He’s part of the local motorcycle club. He’s… a lot. Leather kutte. Arms like carved stone. Dark hair, darker eyes. Fixes everything he touches—Gran’s porch, my old car, the cabin security… my fuse box. And—maybe—my very frozen heart.”
I hadn’t meant to say that last part. But it slipped out. Truth has a way of doing that.
Kasey gasped. “OH. MY. GOD. You’re telling me you’re falling for a hot biker? In the mountains? Bella, are you writing a damn romance novel?”
I laughed, biting my lip.
“It’s not like I planned this,” I said softly. “It’s just… he’s kind. Protective. Doesn’t push. But the way he looks at me…”
“Like you’re the last good thing in the world?”
