Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(90)

“Is it going to frighten me?” Jack asked back.

“Probably,” Belle answered honestly.

He looked at her and smiled. “Tell me about your Dad.”

So, she did.

* * * * *

Belle sat in the Jag as Jack drove them to The Point.

They’d showered at her place (as in, together, which she’d never done with a man and it was nice). But she didn’t have extra supplies of makeup and stuff for her hair (and he didn’t have anything), so he had to take her to The Point then back into town once she’d gotten ready for her day’s work.

Alone he’d walked across St. Ives to collect his car, leaving Belle at the cottage with orders not to leave the house even if she saw his car in front of it. He would, he informed her, escort her through the cameramen.

He drove back, parked in front of her house and collected her at the door.

Even though the street was narrow, her steps were right on it and it was about a ten foot walk, as he said he’d do, Jack escorted her to the passenger side, closing the door after she’d settled in.

Then he drove them out of St. Ives.

Belle watched the scenery and wondered what life had in store for her now that she’d taken this, what she considered the ultimate risk.

Then she decided not to wonder about it.

Whatever would happen, would happen.

This was so not Belle Abbot, it wasn’t funny.

But she had enough to worry about, what with a baby on the way and ghosts to send to heaven.

She’d worry about it later.

“Can we do that again?” she asked Jack.

“What, my love?”

“Stay at the cottage, just you and me?”

His reply was instantaneous. “Absolutely.”

“You’ll need to bring some clothes,” she told him and when he didn’t reply, she added, “and the dogs.”

She heard his chuckle and looked out the window toward the sea.

And Belle Abbot, worrier extraordinaire, felt at peace.

Chapter Fifteen

All Right

Jack

Later that evening, Jack drove Belle back to The Point.

She’d called him that afternoon to inform him that they could not, again, spend another highly enjoyable evening alone together in her quiet cottage. A cottage which was simple, inviting and subtly feminine all of which, Jack thought, was very Belle. A cottage where he found almost instantly he was completely at ease.

Instead, Belle was under strict orders from Lila to come home that evening.

They had, in the overwhelming fullness of their reconciliation, forgotten to call home, not that it even once crossed Jack’s mind. He was not used to being accountable to anyone for his whereabouts.

Also, as said reconciliation had been intense and thoroughly engrossing, they hadn’t heard Belle’s phone ringing in her bag or Jack’s which was muted by his clothing.

Therefore Lila and Rachel had spent the evening wondering where they were and not liking being engaged in this activity.

This was what they learned upon arrival at The Point that morning.

Lila, followed by Rachel then, far more slowly (because she was likely only lending moral support or being polite) followed by his mother, confronted them in the hallway when they walked through the front doors.

It had been short and to the point.

“Belle Ursula Abbot,” Lila said in a severe voice, addressing her like she was ten years old and Belle’s hand went to her mouth.

“Holy heck,” Belle muttered under her hand, her eyes adorably huge with guilt then she took her hand away and breathed, “I forgot to call.”

“That you did,” Lila declared then stomped away.

“We’ve been worried sick,” Rachel added then she stomped away.

Belle and Jack looked to Joy.

“I told them not to worry,” Joy said casually.

Jack and Belle made no reply.

When they didn’t, Joy smiled and asked, “Did you two have a nice evening?”

“We were also having a nice morning,” Jack returned.

“That’s lovely,” Joy’s smile deepened, “Have you eaten? Do I need to call Elaine?”

Jack assured his mother they’d eaten and she’d given them another smile and wandered away.

Now they were on their way to The Point at Lila’s command.

In other words, they were in trouble and being punished.

Jack found it entirely unacceptable that he was a thirty-eight year old man escorting his thirty-five year old pregnant girlfriend home because they’d spent the night having unbelievably great sex and forgot to call thus they pissed off her grandmother.

He was not used to doing anything other than what he damn well pleased.

He’d been doing exactly what he damn well pleased for over twenty years.

And what would have pleased him was to pack a bag, load up his dogs and spend the f**king night at the cottage with Belle who he’d make absolutely certain was na**d the vast majority of the time.

However Belle felt it necessary to perform this act of contrition.

He found this odd, he didn’t like it but he’d speak to her about it later.

At that moment, he had another mountain to climb.

“Belle,” he called and he felt rather than saw her eyes turn to him from their study of the landscape.