“You’re not going to believe this, but Annabelle’s last name is—” The sound of shattering glass from the front of the house interrupted him.
“Abigail?” Mason grinned.
“Abigail.” Michael sighed.
Together they got up and walked into the living room to find a crying five-year-old and a boy who looked madder than a hornet. The brothers immediately focused their stare on Henry, and the boy actually took a step back and then proceeded to point his finger at the little culprit. “She broke it. I tried to stop her,” he shouted.
“How old are you again, two?” Michael said, annoyed that a twenty-three-year-old man had reverted instantly into a typical five-year-old boy. “Get. I’ll take care of her,” he said sharply.
The moment Michael moved toward Abigail, she bolted, running straight for Mason. Abigail buried her little body between his legs and held on for dear life. Mason tried to stifle his amusement, but he was too late. Michael had already seen his grin.
“Don’t you even laugh. This is entirely your fault. You and the rest of them have spoiled her rotten. Rachael and I can barely control her,” Michael started and then stopped. Grinning devilishly, he smiled at Mason and started to walk away. Mason knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “She’s all yours, Mase! Have fun.”
Standing there in the living room with Savannah in his arms and a very temperamental five-year-old between his legs, he realized he had no clue what to do.
“Hold me, too!” Abigail smiled up at him, knowing she had just gotten away with everything.
* * * *
Annabelle spent the better half of the morning washing and cleaning every surface she could get her hands on. Before she had left yesterday, she had gone around the house, opening all the windows in the hope that the night air would filter out most of the stench. Walking in this morning, she sighed when she could still smell the foul creature.
Not letting it upset her too much, she had quickly donned some clean clothes and ushered Andrew outside to the front yard so she could do what she needed. Her son had been talking up a storm about everything he saw over at the R & R Ranch. From horses, to cattle, to live cowboys, her son was now in love with the lifestyle. She was happy that he was broadening his horizons with new things. It was good that he did so, but after about an hour of horse talk, she was starting to miss the latest updates from the scientific world of dinosaurs.
It was funny. It seemed like overnight her darling little boy had grown up and was coming into his own. Once quiet, Andrew just seemed more alive, more energetic than he had been the day before. She noticed right off that when she asked him what he did yesterday, her son looked her straight in the eye, which he never did.
Being a single parent of an autistic child was strenuous, to say the least, and she got used to his little idiosyncrasies. She knew that Andrew would always have to fight his limitations and figure out a way around them, but the simple joy of watching her son’s animated face as he told her about everything at the ranch was heartwarming.
Regardless of what had happened since they left New York, she noticed that Andrew was taking everything in stride, and she took that as a blessing.
Grabbing bleach and vinegar, she headed into what was left of her living room and began the tedious job of cleaning up the aftermath of the skunk incident.
No matter how much she tried not to think of him, she could not get Mason out of her head. She could still feel his hands on her, his lips against hers, and the weight of his body as he moved upon her. However, he hardly said two words to her this morning and she could tell that he just wanted to forget about what happened between them. Hell, she couldn’t blame him. Who would want to be saddled with a single woman with a ten-year-old little boy. Talk about a ready-made family. Of course, she wasn’t looking for anything permanent at this moment either, but it would have been nice if he could have at least smiled, or told her straight-up to her face.
Yet there was something about the tall, quiet man. Something that tugged at her heart and made her want to make him smile more. She remembered the sounds of his laughter when he hosed her down yesterday in the front yard. It was boisterous and infectious. If she hadn’t been so shocked at what was happening, she knew she would have laughed, too. But it was the way he laughed, so carefree, as if it had been years since he had done so, that made it endearing. Then when she saw the pain and anguish in his eyes after he woke screaming from his nightmare, her heart went out to him. Yes, there was definitely something mysterious and guarded about this man, which made him unique and even alluring, but though her heart wanted to wrap him in her arms protectively, her mind was screaming, No, not a good time.
She knew her mind was right. She didn’t have the time for any sort of relationship. She knew that. With more pressing things on her mind, she decided to forget about what happened between them and move on. She had her life to live and so did he, and she didn’t have time or room for a complicated man in her life when she had already had one.
The knock at the front door brought her back to the present. As she rushed to answer it, she damn near tripped over a box that was in her way, but still managed to stub her big toe pretty good. After taking a deep breath, she righted herself and limped the rest of the way.
There standing at the door was none other than Sarah Mitchell. Annabelle knew she stood there stupefied with her mouth gaping open like a moron, blinking several times, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Sarah Mitchell was one of her favorite music artists. Her jazzy, sultry feel and hypnotic voice soothed many a night for her when she was stressed out or just didn’t know what to do anymore, and there she was standing on her little porch.
“You’re…”
“Hi! And you’re Annabelle Marcus.” The beautiful brunette smiled, opening the screen door and letting herself in. “Please forgive my bluntness, but I just had to meet you. When Michael stopped over this morning to talk to Mark, I kinda overheard what the boys were talking about, and you couldn’t imagine my surprise when I heard the wonderful news. I have been telling this family for over a year now, but they never listened to me. Well, technically they tell me to shut up, but there is no way they can ignore it this time!”
Annabelle had no clue what the famous woman was blabbering on about, but when Sarah grabbed her hand and walked her into the kitchen, Annabelle asked, “Miss Mitchell, sorry for being rude, but what are you doing in my home?”
“Oh, I’m not a Mitchell anymore. I married Mark,” she said, as if that explained everything, looking around. “Wow, Mason really did a number on this place, didn’t he?”
“Actually, it was the skunk. This is an improvement, smell-wise, that is.”
“Nasty creatures, aren’t they? I’ll have Willie Hester come out to the farm and lay traps. Those critters carry God knows what, and with two little ones running around it would scare me to death if they got bit.”
“Um, Miss Mitchell, Sarah, what are you doing here?” Annabelle asked, cutting to the chase. Though she was excited to meet the woman, she really didn’t know half of what she was saying and decided the direct approach might be best.
“Oh! I’m sorry. My mouth just runs a mile a minute these days. I am married to Mark Armstrong, Mason’s younger brother and twin to Mitchell. His other brother, Michael, is married to Rachael. They own the R & R Ranch where your boy, Andrew, spent the night. And like I was saying, I just had to meet you.”
“Why?” Annabelle asked, more confused than ever.
“Because you’re seeing Mason!”
“I am?”
“Well,” Sarah began, taking a seat at the table and motioning for her to do the same. Annabelle figured, why not? There wasn’t much more she could do until Mason returned anyway. Besides, her toe was killing her and she could use a break. “Like I was saying, Michael came over to the house today to talk to Mark. Now, generally I don’t listen in because it’s usually ranch talk, and trust me, that is very boring. I won’t regale you with how m
any times I have had to sit and listen to cow prices, and breeding stock, and don’t let me get started on the horses. Now, I love a good pony ride every now and then, but I don’t need to know the ins and outs of whether it’s a true thoroughbred or not. A horse is a horse in my book.”
“About Mason.” Annabelle sighed, redirecting the conversation, again.
“Oh, like I was saying, this is so amazing. They can’t deny any of this now. I mean it’s like cosmic fate. What are the odds of another woman with your last name?”
“Huh?”
“Your last name is Marcus, right? Well, before Rachael married Michael, her last name was Mason, mine was Mitchell, but then there’s Bridget. I still haven’t figured out that anomaly. It’s quite puzzling.”
“Back to Mason,” Annabelle redirected, again.
“Oh, Michael came over to talk to Mark, about Mason. He said that Mason was all wound up about a woman. Michael told Mark—that’s my husband—that this was the first time Mason ever showed any interest in a female and didn’t know what to do, and asked for help.”
“But Mason doesn’t like me. I make him uncomfortable. He made that clear this morning. I may not be the best at figuring men out, but I know when I am not wanted, and trust me, he couldn’t wait to get me out of his house.”
“Well, that’s weird. I know Mason isn’t much for talking, but why would he go to Michael about you, and why would Michael hightail it over to talk to Mark?”
“Because my brothers can’t keep a secret,” the firm, gruff voice said from the back door. Both women jumped and turned at the same time.
“Mason! Hi, I was just visiting with Annabelle.” Annabelle watched as Sarah stood and smiled at her brother-in-law. Sarah wasn’t afraid of him, not that she could see, yet Mason’s face was flushed. The more Annabelle looked, she would swear that it was Mason who felt uncomfortable, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.
Getting to her feet, Annabelle walked over to the screen door and let Mason in. Taking some of the bags from him, she noticed he never moved, rooted to that spot right near the door, in case he needed to make a clean getaway. For some reason, Mason seemed threatened, and a little bit weary, as his sister-in-law kept jabbering away at him. Though she knew he was listening to every word Sarah said, the pained expression in his eyes told her that he needed saving.
Interrupting Sarah, Annabelle smiled and said, “Mason, if you like you can drop the rest of the supplies on the back porch, and if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you could check on Andrew. He should be in the front yard.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he quickly said and fled, as if his ass was on fire. Annabelle kept the smile that was threatening to show, not wanting to embarrass him anymore.
When he left, Sarah turned to her and grinned. “Well, that was interesting.”
“He was just being helpful. That’s all,” Annabelle replied, grabbing two glasses and the pitcher of sweet tea from the refrigerator.
For the next hour, Annabelle sat and talked with Sarah, listening to her regale her all about her time with Mark. It was an amazing story, one definitely for a made-for-TV movie. She also learned about Rachael and Mason’s other brothers, especially the one they called Mitchell, who Annabelle hoped to never meet.
When Andrew came running into the house, Mason followed quietly, standing off to the side.
“Mom! Can I go fishing with Mason tomorrow?”
“I thought you were going to take me adventuring?” She smiled, dusting off her son’s pants.
“Oh, Mom, I can do that anytime. Mason told me he has a big boat, and he said that the big fish are in the gulf. Though I think he meant the Gulf of Mexico, so I didn’t correct him.”
“That was very thoughtful of you. I will have to think about it, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” her son replied, hanging his head, as if he already knew the answer was going to be no. But when Mason stopped him, she watched as he leaned down and whispered into Andrew’s ear. Whatever Mason said made Andrew’s shoulders slump even more, but apparently Mason was standing firm on whatever he had said. She watched as Mason turned her son around, giving him a little nudge. “Mason said there is plenty of room on the boat for you, too. Mason said you might feel better about letting me go if you were invited, that way you could watch me, and I could still spend the day with you.”
“He said all that, did he?” Annabelle grinned at Mason, who blushed deep red. When he looked at Andrew and he cleared his throat, Andrew sighed and said, “Mom, would you like to go fishing with Mason and I tomorrow? We would love for you to join us.”
“I would love to.”
Chapter Five
Mason was still smiling when he left Annabelle’s. Though she had invited him to stay for dinner, he didn’t want to press his luck. After spending the afternoon hanging drywall, he figured he had done just enough not to be considered a nuisance.
He was still fuming over finding Sarah at her place pumping and dishing out gossip, but he knew if he said anything, it would get back to Mark, and then he would have his brothers breathing down his neck. That was something he didn’t want, so he’d kept his mouth shut and fled when Annabelle had given him an out.
Spending time with her son, Andrew, was easy. He had always liked kids, and well, Andrew was just special. Not that the child being autistic made a damn difference. The kid was actually cool to be around, smart as a whip, and funny. However, something told Mason he rarely showed that side of himself. Andrew acted differently with his mother than he did with him. It was almost as if the kid could be a kid when Mason was around.
He knew being a single parent couldn’t be easy on Annabelle and she was doing everything she could for her son, but with no man around, he wondered if Andrew needed something more, more than she could provide. Of course, if Mason took a good look at his life, he would probably say the kid was better off without a father, because his wasn’t anything to write home about. Regardless of her prior situation with her ex, Mason didn’t mind one bit spending time with the boy.
After showering and changing into sweats, he grabbed his dinner out of the microwave and had just sat down when he heard someone walk up to his door. Waiting for the knock, he cracked open his beer and took a sip when he heard it.
“Door’s open,” he shouted, thinking it was one of his brothers, before taking a bite of his Salisbury steak. Instead, in walked two men in black suits, sporting very nice sets of shades. Their suits were crisp and pressed. Standing like statues, they moved just as subtly. From their shiny shoes to their blank expressions, Mason knew who they were.
Fuck!
“So what can I do for the FBI?” he asked, grabbing his beer and taking another sip.
“Captain Armstrong?” suit number one said while the other one looked around his home, touching everything in sight.
Touch one more thing and I will break your fucking hand.
“Just Mason to my family, but for you two, its Mr. Armstrong, and I’m no longer in the military. What do you want?”
“You missed the meeting today,” suit number two said, touching a framed picture of him and his last team. Mason knew exactly what meeting they were talking about. He had received the certified letter in the mail last week, only he ignored it and shredded the bitch, and then set it to burn in his backyard. He wanted nothing to do with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, or why they were working closely with the Joint Chief of Staff for the United States Military. As far as he was concerned, all of them could kiss his ass after the way he and his team members were treated. He was done and wanted no part of it.
“No, you had a meeting, I had something better to do,” Mason said, getting to his feet.
“You were ordered to be there,” suit number one told him as if it were law. Mason ignored Mr. Chatterbox, and walked over to Mr. Sticky Fingers, stood right in his path, and growled. “Looking for something?”
The man stepped back and went to go stand next to his partner, not saying a
word.
“Captain Armstrong, the FBI needs your help,” suit number one began again. “Julio Montequilla escaped.”
Everything in Mason stilled as he was instantly transported back to those three days of hell in the Colombian jungle. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart rate accelerated, and his left hand began to stiffen up. He heard the screams and cries of his team as each and every one of them were used and tortured in the most inhumane way. The smell of blood surrounded him, and then when he thought it couldn’t get worse, those eyes, those violent, hateful, evil eyes stared at him. The eyes of the devil himself.
“He’s not my problem,” Mason whispered.
“I don’t think you understand. We are not asking you, Captain,” suit number one said firmly, squaring his shoulders.
Mason looked at the man, and before he could blink, Mason was standing nose-to-nose with him. “Get out of my house.”
“Captain…”
“I am no longer in the military. Get out.”
“We are asking you nicely, Captain.”
“Get out,” Mason said with a growl. There must have been something in his eyes that made them move, because he watched as suit number two grabbed his partner, jerking him toward the front door.
“Fine, have it your way, but we will be back,” suit number one said. “We are staying at the motel in town, if you change your mind.”
Mason watched as the two men quietly left without saying another word. The moment they were out of his driveway, Mason slammed his front door, turned, and punched a hole in the wall, cursing loudly.
* * * *
The heat was already unbearable as Mason headed out the next morning. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and the heat was glaring down upon him making his shirt stick to his back. It was going to be another scorcher, and he just hoped Annabelle remembered to pack the sunscreen. Of course, he wouldn’t mind helping her apply it.
He still couldn’t believe he had used her son like he had. He had actually felt guilty about it, for all of one minute. That was until she had smiled up at him and said she would love to go. After that the guilt fled and the fear of being alone with her again surfaced. Mason knew if he wanted any kind of relationship with her, he was going to have to get over his aversion to conversation. Hell, he could talk. He talked to his brothers all the time. He talked to his sisters-in-law, too. Well, actually, they talked and he listened, but in his book that still counted.
A Soldier's Promise [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 8
