Chapter 5 Bella #2
Matty laughed. “Damn, Baby Belle has an arm, too? I guess it runs in the family.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Everything stopped.
The teasing, the laughter, the easy Sunday-morning chaos—Bennett’s voice cut through it all, firm and threaded with something that hit me square in the chest.
“Her name is Bella,” he all but growled.
Still calm, quiet. But something in his tone vibrated down my spine so fast, my toes curled inside my boots. Holy fucking shit. Why did the sound of my name on his lips make me want to orgasm?
Heat bloomed low in my stomach, hot and sharp, and I hated—hated—that my body responded before my brain could catch up. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. Entirely predictable.
And completely impossible to hide.
My nerves crackled. I kept my attention glued to the cooler lid like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic, but there was no escaping the weight of everybody’s eyes flickering between Bennett and me.
Matty blinked rapidly. “Hey, we were just playing, Benny.”
“Ay, mi pana,” Diaz echoed, raising both hands as though defusing a bomb. “No more Baby Belle.”
And then, because apparently the universe was intent on making me spontaneously combust, Bennett looked at me.
And it wasn’t a casual glance either.
No, this was the kind of look that stripped a woman bare without a man ever touching her. One full of promises and wicked possibilities that he fully intended to deliver on if given the opportunity.
And I would let him.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, suddenly grateful I had tossed away the rest of my donut. Choking on an apple fritter in front of the guy who’d been starring in my X-rated dreams as of late wasn’t exactly on my list of New Year’s resolutions.
I heard myself make a sound somewhere between a squeak and a sigh. “Um, thanks,” I finally got out. Barely.
Jared pushed himself upright from Nessa’s lap, eyes narrowing. “Did I miss something?”
“Nope,” Nessa said with cheerfulness so sharp, it could cut glass. She clapped her hands together briskly, effectively slamming a lid on the moment. “Now that Benny-boy is all moved in, can we start talking about the next big day? Clarke and Soren’s wedding.”
Her tone was casual, but the quick flick of her eyes toward me said I’ve got you.
Bless her. The woman could defuse a bomb using nothing but enthusiasm and a glitter pen.
I exhaled, grateful for the save and desperately trying to remember how to function like a normal human while June launched seamlessly into a series of questions. “Yeah, are you thinking a big wedding? Something small and intimate? An elopement in Tuscany? Please say yes.”
“That’s up to Clarke,” Soren answered directly.
The chaos resumed.
And thank God for that because Bennett King had just looked at me like he wanted to ruin me, and I was one breath away from jumping him. Right here, right now.
Clarke curled deeper into Soren’s side, fidgeting with her ring.
“Honestly, I have no idea what I want. I already planned the wedding of the century when I was twenty-five and engaged to somebody I shouldn’t have been.
And now that I’m actually marrying the love of my life?
” She looked up at her fiancé, her smile wobbling. “I don’t really want any of that.”
Soren pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’ll do whatever makes you happy.”
Clarke’s eyes shimmered. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Tuscany,” June coughed into her mitten.
Nessa perked up like someone had just handed her a clipboard and a color palette. “Okay, so maybe we start with what you don’t want.”
“No ballroom,” Clarke said without missing a beat. “No church, no spotlight, and definitely no five-hundred-person guest list.”
“A woman who knows her boundaries,” Matty murmured approvingly.
“Absolutely no giant spectacle,” Nessa echoed, already tapping something into an app on her phone. “Got it. Do you want it in Rose City?”
Clarke worried her lip. “Probably. It just depends on whether we wait until after the season ends.”
Soren squeezed her shoulder, thumb brushing the edge of her scarf. “I don’t know how many venues will be cool with a ‘wait and see if we make the playoffs’ kind of promise.”
Pink snorted. “Not many. Unless you want to get married next to our bullpen. Super romantic, bro.”
Diaz raised his beer. “I can see it. Vows echoing under fluorescent lights, the faint scent of sunflower seeds—”
Clarke half-laughed, half-groaned. “This is why I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to do the big wedding thing again. I just want something . . . us. Something that feels like Soren and Clarke, not some social media stunt.”
A hush settled over the group. Not sad, just thoughtful.
Soren pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then that’s what we’ll find, blondie.”
“Hell, you guys could do it in the outdoor showers at Bed of Roses,” June offered with a smirk. “That’s where you met, after all.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Soren mused, ignoring Clarke’s sputter of scandal.
“I am not getting married in a shower stall,” Clarke protested, cheeks pink.
“Not the shower,” I said, warmth creeping into my voice. “Bed of Roses. On the lawn, beneath the twinkle lights. Like you said, it’s where you met, where everything changed. It’s romantic and intimate, and you know the owner, so she might give you a discount.”
All heads pivoted to face June.
“I might be willing to negotiate,” she said.
Clarke’s face softened. “Bed of Roses,” she repeated. “Small, private. Us.” She tilted her head back to meet Soren’s gaze and gave him a soft, gooey look. “What do you think?”
He gripped her chin between two fingers. “I think I want to marry you in the place we fell in love.”
Cheers erupted when he dipped his head, planting a quick but hot kiss on her lips. Nessa squealed, and Jared almost spilled his beer. The decision settled over the group like a warm blanket, soft and certain.
“Damn, it’s going to be hard to top that,” my brother mused after the celebratory chaos died down. “I’ve always wanted to get married on a boat at sea.”
“Why?” Soren asked.
“Because that way nobody could leave early. They’ll literally have to stay until we dock.”
“Aw, babe.” Nessa twirled a finger through his hair and tugged. “I love you, but we are not getting married on a boat. That sounds like the start to a Dateline episode.”
June snorted. “Okay, well, mine would be somewhere warm, preferably against the backdrop of a castle.”
“Let me guess,” Clarke said. “Tuscany?”
“How did you guess?”
Matty ran a hand through his curls. “I want something quick and easy. Like the courthouse or a trip to Vegas.”
Diaz arched a brow. “Or a backyard wedding on your land?”
Matty shrugged. “So long as Mo is there.”
A collective groan rose from the group.
Matty’s black-and-tan dachshund was infamous across our town, as well as several unhinged corners of the internet.
Seven pounds of snarling devotion, fiercely loyal to Matty and openly hostile to literally everyone else.
There were entire Reddit threads dedicated to the theory that she was a demon summoned from hell, and honestly, having met her, I wasn’t convinced they were wrong.
“Right,” June said dryly. “Because nothing says romance like your demon dog trying to bite the officiant.”
Matty only beamed. “She’s spirited.”
“She’s possessed,” Pink grumbled under his breath.
Bennett turned to me.
“What about you, Bella?” he asked, voice gentle but direct in a way that made my pulse trip.
Pink groaned, sitting up straighter. “No, do not ask her that unless you want a dissertation. Belles has been planning her wedding since she was, like, ten.”
Heat rushed up my neck. “I have not.”
“Seriously.” Pink groaned dramatically. “She has a list on her phone.”
I snapped my head toward him. “And what’s wrong with that?”
He held up his hands. “Nothing wrong with it. I’m just stating the facts. You have lists for everything—a detailed ranking of restaurants based on location, price, and spice scale, hypothetical names for goats you plan on owning—”
“Don’t you dare bring Vincent van Goat into this.”
Clarke bounced eagerly. “Forget your brother, Bella. I want to hear about your dream wedding.”
I shrank a little into my chair. “I don’t know—”
“Please,” Bennett said, low and steady. “I want to hear it, too.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Well, if I get married, I want to do it in the woods. With mismatched chairs and pillows—cozy and intimate, like an outdoor living room. Oh, and I want to have a brunch reception. You know, pancakes, pastries, mimosas. And dancing, but not like . . . formal. Just people moving around however they want.”
I stopped there, suddenly hyperaware of how earnest I sounded. God, why did vulnerability feel like standing naked in public?
Jared cleared his throat loudly, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of attention. “Are you sure we can’t get married on a boat, angel?” he asked Nessa, waggling his brows dramatically.
She flicked his forehead. “Positive. I am not getting trapped on a floating crime scene.”
While the rest of them launched into a passionate debate about the merits of boat weddings, I sat back in my chair, grateful the spotlight had shifted off my painfully earnest woodland brunch fantasy.
“There’s one problem with your dream wedding, Arabella.”
I hadn’t even heard him approach—an impressive feat considering Bennett King was built like a walking oak tree—but when I glanced over my shoulder, he was standing right behind me, towering over my lawn chair like he’d been there the whole time.
“And what’s that?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “French toast is better than pancakes.”
I huffed a soft laugh. “Bold claim for someone who’s objectively wrong.”
His smile deepened. “You might have to prove it to me one day.”
My pulse tripped.
“You, um, never said what your dream wedding would be,” I told him.
He looked out toward the group, where Pink was now arguing passionately about boat safety statistics, then back at me. His expression was thoughtful, almost shy.
It was refreshing to see him like that, quiet and uncertain. That bashful side of him did more to me than any cocky grin ever could.
“I’ve never given it much thought,” he said honestly.
My heart dipped, just a little.
And just when I thought the butterflies had finally settled, he went and said something I knew I’d be thinking about for weeks to come. After I added it to yet another list in my phone’s Notes app, the one titled Things Bennett King Has Said/Done That Ruined Me.
“But your idea sounds pretty perfect to me.”