by Lori Foster
If she wanted him to stay, she had a funny way of showing it. “For now.”
Into the phone, she said, “I have you down for Thursday the second. Yes, of course. It’s my pleasure.” Absently she disconnected the call and put the phone on the desk.
Still with papers in hand, she said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s busy today.”
“No problem.” He lingered a second more, then leaned in through the doorway. “Plenty of time for us to get acquainted.”
“Oh...okay.” Her smile brightened several watts. “Yes, I’d like that.”
His gaze moved over her face, and he felt himself smiling too. Amazing. “Thank you, Charlotte.”
Her brows lifted. “For what?”
“The cookies. The company. Befriending my dog.” And for making me lighthearted enough to smile. “A dozen things.” He gave her a look she couldn’t misinterpret. “I’d go into it more, but the guys are waiting for me.”
Happiness seemed a part of her, especially here in this moment. “You are very welcome,” she said with soft sincerity, then added with her own meaning, “Anytime.”
* * *
ROS RETURNED FROM the store with premade sandwiches for lunch. Though Charlotte was invited to join in, she stayed busy with work, bustling around the offices from one room to the next, eating half a sandwich and some chips on the go.
Not for a single second was she unaware of Mitch, but she did her best not to ogle him—or to acknowledge when he seemed to ogle her.
No man had ever taken such personal notice of her.
She was both flattered and thrown off guard.
A jerk like Bernie she could handle. But a man like Mitch?
Fanning her face, she detoured into the storage area for more file folders. Unfortunately, Mitch consumed her thoughts.
It was odd to see someone so big and capable, with such obvious strength, and yet...shades of vulnerability surrounded him. He’d probably deny that—he was enough like Brodie and Jack that she instinctively knew he’d rebel against admitting a weakness.
“Busy again?”
Spinning around, she found him standing there in the doorway, watching her. With his presence alone, he got her heart thumping.
Trying for a light laugh, she said, “Work is never done it seems.”
“Or,” he countered softly, “you take your responsibilities very seriously.”
“Of course.”
His mouth curled as if she’d given the expected answer...and it pleased him. “I thought you’d join us for lunch.”
“I wanted to.” That admission had her flushing. “I mean...”
“I wanted you to,” he said, before she could take it back or give it different meaning. “Are you ever not working?”
When she faltered, he stepped away from the door and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Thinking he got the wrong impression, she nodded fast, realized what she was doing, and made herself be still. “I have free time every now and then.”
“Good to know, because I feel like we got interrupted before. By Bernie, I mean.”
“Bernie is an idiot.”
Humor glittered in his eyes. “Agreed.” He looked over his shoulder toward the hallway, then back to her. “See you soon, then?”
Again, she nodded, but followed it up with, “Yes. Definitely.”
He returned to the others, and she dropped back against a file cabinet. She needed to get a handle on her over-the-top reaction to him. To call it embarrassing would be an understatement.
As she passed back out to the hall, she heard Ros inviting him to dinner.
And she heard him finding reasons to refuse. Funny that he wanted to see her, but not the others. Funny—and also wrong. Maybe, if she handled things the right way, she could help him to be more at ease with them.
Things were probably moving a little too fast. He’d expected one thing, and had gotten something altogether different.
From what they’d learned already, she knew Mitch was a survivor, but a cautious one—when caution was unnecessary, even unwanted, with his family.
And yes, with her.
Damn it, in many ways meeting him reminded her that she too was an outsider. No, that wasn’t the right word. In every way that mattered, the Crews family had made her part of their inner circle. She didn’t share their blood, but she shared their lives.
She could show Mitch the way, explain to him how remarkable and warm this family—his family—could be.
Though she hesitated to intrude, she knew the others would willingly include her.
A few minutes later, Brodie found her standing there, staring into space and eavesdropping. With a dry grin he caught her arm and urged her back into the storage area.
Voice low, he asked, “You’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well.” He eyed her. “There’s that bit with me being an ass?”
God, he was such a big, lovable oaf. “Yeah, there’s that—but it’s not a big deal. Just you being you.”
His expression softened to tenderness. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
She peered at the door, decided no one could hear them, and blew out a breath. “I was embarrassed, but more by my dumb reaction.” She ended up smiling too. “Ros gave me hell.”
“No kidding?” Propping one boulder shoulder on the wall, Brodie guessed, “For being a wimp?”
Slapping a hand over her mouth barely stifled her laugh. She had been a wimp, and Ros didn’t mind telling her so—especially since it was so unlike her.
Struggling to keep her humor under wraps, she whispered, “She basically told me to gather my gumption and quit hiding.”
In a tone far too sweet for a guy like Brodie, he asked, “Were you hiding, hon?”
“Maybe. For a few minutes.” Putting her shoulders back, she said, “Not anymore.” Especially not after Mitch made his interest plain. “Now I’m just busy.”
Guilt put a frown on his face. “You shouldn’t be too busy to visit.”
If only that were true. She’d picked up what she could to free up time for Brodie and Jack. If she told him that, he’d really feel bad. “Mitch isn’t going anywhere, right? I’m sure I’ll see him again soon. For today though, let me do what I do best, okay?”
“Keep the business running?”
Already on her way out, she tossed a smile at Brodie. “Exactly.” This time she didn’t glance in the break room at Mitch as she hurried along the hall to the inner office.
But heaven help her, she felt his gaze—and she was pretty sure it moved all over her.
* * *
OVER THE NEXT few days, Mitch made up his mind to go at his own pace. It’d be better, easier, to move slowly—for him, and for them. They needed time to get to know him, to understand his intentions, to know he wasn’t trying to use them.
And he needed time to trust the whirlwind acceptance.
Having a junkie for a mom had made him cautious, especially when her chosen boyfriend took pleasure in trying to break him—and she hadn’t cared. Or at least, hadn’t cared enough to change things. That had set the standard for his life, and he’d made his way by not trusting anyone—yet now he’d met the most insanely trusting people ever.
He almost felt like he had to protect them—because they didn’t seem to be protecting themselves. At the very least, they should have put him on a month-long probationary period.
Instead, they’d opened their arms and were doing their damnedest to open their homes.
Crazy, that’s what it was.
He didn’t need cozy family dinners. He didn’t need hugs—not that Ros ever listened to his objections—and he didn’t need sympathy.
He didn’t need anything, wouldn’t ask for anything—except acknowledgment.
Time. Opportunity.
Eventually, yeah, he’d love to join them as family.
For now, he took pleasure in getting to know them better—especially when that meant getting to know Charlotte more too.
His brothers shared facets of their lives, which included a lot of anecdotes about Charlotte, all of it nice.
He also answered a million questions.
Funny thing though, the questions were all superficial. Made them easier to answer, sure, but also kept a cloud of unknowns shrouding them.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t had enough opportunity to visit with Charlotte. Oh, she greeted him when he came by, and her smiles were friendly whenever he could pin her down. She offered him coffee and food, she doted on Brute.
But she was being cautious.
For her benefit or his?
No way to know—yet. So for now, while he got better acquainted with his brothers, he didn’t push it.
Even though he liked having her near. In an uncomfortable, and surprisingly pleasant way, she stirred long-dormant emotions, feelings he’d forgotten and now wanted to refuse.
When he put his head down for the night, it was Charlotte and that stirring touch of hers, the curve of her luscious mouth and her soft blue eyes that consumed his thoughts.
She kept him in a fever.
He had a feeling she was adjusting to things too. Did the strength of the attraction throw her for a loop? It wasn’t his nature to pressure a woman, but soon, very soon, he’d see where he stood with her.
Earlier today Brodie and Jack had worked, so it was late afternoon, nearing suppertime when he arrived at Mustang Transport. He anticipated at least seeing Charlotte, even if just in passing, but the brothers had just gotten there themselves, and they compared Mustangs. Brodie’s was red, Jack’s yellow and his black. Restoring cars was something they had in common, sort of a natural talent to make an older classic shine like new.
Talk of cars led to the name of the business—which now made sense to him—and they explained details on the transportation business, which he had to admit, sounded fascinating.
Today alone, Brodie had driven to Corbin, Kentucky, and back again, which meant seven hours on the road at least, traffic pending, just to grab some weird little art sculpture for his employer. If it weren’t for this meeting, would he and Mary have spent the night? Seemed likely.
At the very least, there wouldn’t have been such a rush.
“You know, I understand if you guys need to put me under a microscope for a while. But on busy days like this, a breather would be fine.”
Baffled, Brodie frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“This. Running home from a job just to grab a few minutes to chat.” He shook his head. “After all that driving, you have to be beat. I’m not in a rush—”
“Well, we are,” Jack said. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
That attitude left him shaking his head. “We can visit another day.”
“First off,” Brodie interrupted, “I’d kick Jack’s ass if he suggested I got tired just from a little driving—”
“He’d try,” Jack amended, unconcerned, as he checked an incoming text.
“—because my job does not leave me beat.” Pressing a fist to his chest, Brodie added, “I’m in prime physical condition, I’ll have you know.”
Still reading the phone screen, Jack raised his hand. “Same here.”
“And second,” Brodie continued, “we invited you, right? Maybe if you weren’t being so dodgy about dinner, we could let up a little. But until then, we plan to wear you down and fit in time to visit when we can.”
Half laugh, half pure frustration, Mitch blew out a breath. They were entertaining, he’d give them that. Without explaining that his intent had been to give them time, he conceded the point. “I can reconsider dinner.”
“Well, hallelujah. Mom will be thrilled.”
“Dinner automatically means she has to cook?”
“Has to? Pfft.” Brodie clapped him on the shoulder. “She’ll insist. And Charlotte—bless the girl for her baking skills—will probably make a dessert. Don’t let their backbones of steel confuse you. They still enjoy a little domesticity here and there.”
“As do you,” Jack said to Brodie, while thumbing in a reply on his phone.
“I’m a helluva cook,” Brodie bragged. “Plus I like things tidy. Being male doesn’t make me a slob, ya know?”
Since he felt the same, Mitch nodded. To Jack, he asked, “Do you need privacy for that text?”
“Privacy?” That got his head up with a bemused frown. “From you two? No.”
Because...they were brothers? The continued goodwill flattened him. Mired in his own amazement, unable to think of a single thing to say, Mitch gave a nod.
Further explaining, Jack said, “Ronnie’s just detailing another job.” He put the phone away. “Like Brodie, I had a pickup today, but mine was in Lebanon, around an hour away. That was after a meeting with the bosses.”
“They arrange meetings,” Brodie said in an aside, “mostly to visit with Jack. They’re taken with him.”
“True,” Jack agreed. “I’m fond of them as well—now. Wasn’t always that way, though. They were disappointed that Ronnie couldn’t be there because she had a separate trip to make.”
“And?” Brodie asked. “How’d the pickup go?”
“Got it in the trunk.” Together they walked over to Jack’s yellow Mustang. He opened the back and carefully brought out an ornately carved box.
Intrigued, Mitch moved closer. He’d never seen anything like it. The detailing was amazing. “What exactly is that?”
“Coffin for a pet cat.” Deadpan, Jack added, “Sans cat—thank God.”
Brodie laughed.
“This guy built it for when his cat died, working on it for over eighteen years. Then his douche of a son had the cat cremated so he could sell the box instead. He knew it was quality work and didn’t want to see it go into the ground.”
“Asshole,” Brodie muttered. “Did you have any trouble getting it?”
Placing the box back in the trunk, Jack shrugged. “Usual, when dealing with jerks.” He looked up. “The son, not the owner.”
More fascinated by the second, Mitch mimicked Brodie, saying, “And?”
“Since the cat’s ashes were already scattered, the owner didn’t want his son to have the box. Maybe from spite—and I don’t blame him—he made a deal with my bosses. I got there just as the son showed up. Bastard tried to argue that the old man wasn’t thinking straight, and he brought along an ape to enforce that story if necessary.”
“No shit?” Mitch thought he understood their business, but maybe not. “What did you do?”
Casual as you please, Jack said, “I explained the error of his ways.” Closing and locking the trunk, he stretched. “He was big and clumsy, too thick for speed. When threats against me didn’t work, he tried just taking it.”
Brodie grinned. “How’d that work out for him?”
Not seeing so much as a scratch on Jack, Mitch could guess, but it was still amusing to hear it.
“He limped out of there with a badly busted knee, carrying on like a baby and cursing the world. The son tried throwing a punch at me.” Jack shook his head. “I dodged it, then looked at his dad, got a nod, and flattened the prick.”
Mitch couldn’t help but laugh.
“It gets better.” Leaning against his car, Jack grinned. “The guy tried to discount the price—because he ‘liked the added perk of seeing his son on his ass.’ His words, not mine. I thanked him but refused. I also left him my card, in case he had any troubles holding on to his money. The son knows I’m on it, so hopefully he gives his dad a little peace.”
“Can’t stand a bully,” Brodie muttered.
And they both looked a
t him.
Shrugging, Mitch said, “No argument from me.” His buddy Lang, who was smaller and leaner, had often been the recipient of Mitch’s protection. “I avoid trouble when I can, but I’m not one to turn a blind eye.”
They each nodded in satisfaction, as if they’d expected no less. Which was nuts, of course, because they hadn’t seen any examples. For all they knew, he could be a liar. Hell, he could have been a bully, a thief, or worse.
Their trusting rubbed him the wrong way. “So this is what you guys do? Buy weird shit?”
“Therman, the man I work for, who’s also like a grandfather to my wife, used to be into murderabilia. Thank God he’s over that.”
“Murderabilia?”
With disgust, Brodie said, “Artistic shit made by convicted murderers. Sometimes while they’re in prison, but also, their relatives will sell it after they’re convicted. Therman collected it, along with other things, but he displayed it only for himself.”
For a few minutes, Brodie shared some examples. “When this crazy fuck went after my wife, things changed for Therman. Talk about new perspectives? Yeah, he had them. Now he’s more like Jack’s employers, goth twins Drake and Drew. Collecting oddities has its own risk, as you just heard, but overall it’s not too bad.”
“You’re both exclusive now?” The people they worked for must be loaded to keep it all afloat. The business impressed Mitch.
“Overall exclusive, yeah. Therman especially wants Mary and me at his beck and call. The twins are a little less demanding. We do a variety of smaller jobs, and we donate time to local causes, like the animal shelter. That night you met Charlotte? Jack and I were already out, so she pitched in to get a little homeless dog to the shelter. She loves animals, you know? But she’s especially involved with homeless or mistreated pets.”
That didn’t surprise Mitch. “She doesn’t have a pet of her own?”
“When we keep her working all the time?” Jack huffed, then said to Brodie, “We really need to get her some help.”
Brodie shrugged. “Tell her that.” He added to Mitch, “She’s pretty damned territorial about her office. God forbid Jack or I dick with her filing system.”
