AFTER SPENDING THE rest of his day configuring his new up-and-coming business, Mitch arrived at Rosalyn’s house for dinner. He was a few minutes early, but clearly that wasn’t a problem.
From the driver’s seat he noted Brodie and Jack’s red and yellow Mustangs, parked on the right side of the driveway. Charlotte’s little blue Ford was behind a newer white Mustang that he thought was Rosalyn’s.
Everyone was already here...including Charlotte who sat at her leisure there on the front porch steps. Now dressed in a pink camisole with denim shorts, she showed a lot of peach skin and had a very fine set of legs on display.
Damn but the sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut. Her particular blend of sex appeal and innocence pushed all his buttons, even buttons he hadn’t known about.
What would it be like to have those sleek legs wrapped tight around him while he rode her deep and fast? And after the sex, while she was still warm and damp and satisfied, he’d hold her close, see her smile, smooth that wild abundance of curls...
The fantasy drew him as much for the carnal appeal as the emotional balm. His balls tightened and his heart beat heavier.
Charlotte Parrish was the real deal, the whole package, a woman who’d make a man content just with her presence.
Course, she had a temper too—and from what he’d seen of it so far, it was just as nice.
Was she waiting for him?
The idea warmed him, but also made him wary since he had an agreement with the guys. Teasing her this morning, flirting while others were a few feet away, helped her relax with him without the risk of things getting out of hand.
She needed to know he wanted her.
This? Alone on one side of the house?
Dangerous.
Charlotte pointed to a spot behind her car where he saw just enough room for him to park.
After he let Brute out of the back, he said, “Hey.”
Elbows braced behind her, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, she smiled. “Hey, yourself.”
Was that flirting? The way she looked at him, with her eyes heavy and intense...normally he’d say yes, but with this woman? He just didn’t know.
Maybe he’d been more successful this morning than he’d realized. For now, with that smile and in that relaxed position, she looked far from shy and reserved.
More like interested and on the make.
Damn, but the different facets of her mesmerized him.
Voices carried from the backyard, interspersed with happy barking that made Brute’s ears perk and twitch.
As if she’d read his mind, Charlotte said, “Brodie and Mary, Jack and Ronnie, Ros and the animals are all around back setting up. Ros decided to do dinner picnic-style so the dogs had more room to play.” Scrunching her nose, she looked up at the sky. “With those dark clouds moving in, hopefully we won’t get rained on.”
Brute looked toward the back, then walked over to Charlotte, nudging her hand for a pat. As she sat forward to oblige, the press of her breasts pressed against the lightweight material of her camisole snagged all his attention.
Did she wear a bra? While she fawned on Brute, Mitch got entirely too engrossed in studying the delicate curves, imagining how those small, soft breasts would feel in his hands—and how her nipples would feel in his mouth.
Knowing he had to clear his head before she busted him ogling her, or worse, his body reacted—with the entirety of his newly found family on the other side of the yard—Mitch said, “Brute likes you.”
“And I like him.” Touching her nose to Brute’s and sweetening her voice, she crooned, “Yes, I do. I like this furry face. It’s so cute.”
Huh. The silly way she talked to his dog had as much effect as that body-hugging top.
Who knew it’d be a turn-on to have his dog so loved and accepted?
Sure it was different, more tender than carnal—and possibly more powerful because of it.
Desperate to get his libido under control, Mitch cleared his throat. “Coming here has been good for him.”
“And you?” The tilt of her, the way she looked up at him, emphasized her blue eyes and long lashes. “So far, it’s good for you too?”
What did she expect?
For him to admit how much this, an opportunity to belong, meant to him?
A confession that the prospect of not being alone was equally alarming to no family at all?
No, he’d say none of that. Keeping it superficial made more sense. “So far it’s going better than I had hoped.”
“Yeah.” Her smile held secrets he didn’t understand. “That’s just how they are. You’ll see.”
In her case, he understood why. Charlotte was pretty hard to resist. “You’re a part of them. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were their actual sister.”
“Because we squabble like siblings?” Sighing, Charlotte braced a forearm on her knee. “There are times I want to punch Brodie in the throat, or maybe throw dirt on Jack just to muss him up a little.” She flashed an endearing, impish smile. “But I love them both.”
Fighting a laugh over the casual way she addressed violence, Mitch nodded. “I picked up on that right away.” Little by little, he got the hang of her relationship with Jack and Brodie. He’d never been that close to another person.
For him, if he issued an insult he damn well meant it, and knew it could come to blows.
“What about you?”
Eyes squinted against the sun, she asked, “What about me?”
“Other than with the guys, do you interact with insults?” Somehow he couldn’t see it. Friendliness, yes. Above and beyond with assistance, sure. But he’d bet that playful harassment started and ended with his brothers.
“Have I insulted you?” she countered with a smile, then shook her head. “I try to be nice to people, and that’s easy enough around here. We have a lot of good people in town.”
Her being one of them. “I’m seeing that.”
“Occasionally a customer will be a butthead, but I ignore it because I know I won’t see them often.” Putting her nose in the air, she stated, “I can be professional.”
She could be adorable—but maybe he shouldn’t say that.
“The way you are with Brute...are you that good with all animals?”
Her slender shoulder lifted. “Far as I know, yeah. I love animals and they love me.” Voice going softer, she added, “I visit the animal shelter when I have free time. They always need volunteers to walk the dogs or play with the cats.”
So instead of dating, she spent her time with homeless animals in need? Fuck, she might as well take his heart right from his chest. “Maybe I could go with you sometime.”
Admiration, and more, shone in her eyes. “I’d like that.”
Standing over her, nearby but not too close, he noticed how the humidity had turned her cheeks dewy and the way a warm flush covered the skin of her throat and exposed chest. She’d caught her frizzy hair into a high ponytail but still little curls sprang out around her ears, her temples, and along her neck. “Then it’s a date—when you have free time.”
Her mouth twitched, probably because her free days were few and far between. “Deal.”
What he wanted to do? Sit down close beside her so their hips touched. Lay his arm along the step behind her, breathe in the fragrance of that wild hair and sun-heated skin. See how she’d react, how she’d fit against him, maybe go for a kiss.
Touching her would be incredibly nice.
He cleared his throat. As much as it pained him, he couldn’t break an agreement. He didn’t have much, but he had his word.
So he jammed his hands into his back pockets to help resist temptation. “I should have brought something, but I didn’t think about it until just now.”
Remaining lazily posed on the stairs, Charlotte stroked Brute and asked, “What do you mean?”
Fighting the urge to get closer to her, he gestured toward the backyard. “A dessert or something.” Isn’t that what guests did? No idea. He had zero social graces.
Her smile warmed another notch. “Ros didn’t want you to. Besides, I already baked a cake.”
“You baked a... When?” She’d been at the office early and according to Brodie, it was supposed to be a busy day for her. Not that he knew for sure. After leaving the offices, he’d headed to his new digs to do some work of his own. God knew it’d be a while before the place would be presentable, or he could make a profit. “You didn’t put in a full day?”
“I got home an hour ago.”
No way. “And you decided to bake?” Did she ever relax? Didn’t seem so. Not being great with idle time himself, her near electric vitality was another lure.
But damn it, how could he ever get a date if she never slowed down?
“Not a big deal. I enjoy baking and I had a hankering for a white chocolate cake. While it was in the oven, I showered.”
“White chocolate? So...homemade? Not a box mix?”
Elevating her chin again, she said, “Wouldn’t be real baking if it was just out of a box.”
For someone who usually picked up a premade when the sweet tooth hit, it counted to him. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”
She shrugged. “The boys like it.”
“Boys?” Another smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re calling those Goliaths boys?”
“Look who’s talking. You’re every bit as big as they are.” Pushing to her feet, she said, “Come on, they’re all anxious to see you.” She led him and Brute around the house.
He couldn’t resist one more question. “And you? Were you anxious to see me, Charlotte?”
Over her shoulder, she replied, “I made you a cake, didn’t I?”
The ear-splitting grin caught him by surprise. The cake was for his benefit, then, not Brodie and Jack’s. Nice.
Suddenly it struck him: he’d just done what the boys had asked him not to—he’d hung around talking her up, admiring and ogling her, flirting, in relative privacy. At least at the office that morning, Brodie knew they were inside.
Damn it, he needed to avoid being alone with her or he’d never last. When he got around her, he forgot everything except getting to know her better.
When they reached the backyard, Brodie called to Mitch, “Good, you made it.” And then, without missing a beat, he added to Charlotte, “Thanks for watching out for him, hon.”
So Brodie had set that up? Seriously, did he not know how tempting Charlotte looked in the skimpier clothes, lounging there on the steps, her spine relaxed, bare legs stretched out, elbows braced behind her while that gorgeous hair played around her face?
Or maybe it had been a test. That idea didn’t set well—especially since he’d failed it.
Or...could it have been a sign of trust?
Jesus, he wished he knew more about the inner workings of a normal family.
Having just noticed them, Howler came barreling from the back of the yard, a brown Lab right behind him.
Brute, of course, did his dodge and cower act, snuggling behind Mitch and tucking his face in his ass.
“Hey, hey,” Mitch said, trying to readjust. Not easy to do with Brute so afraid.
One day soon, Brute would learn that he wouldn’t let any harm come to him. Until then, Mitch would just continue to reassure him the best he could.
He’d be there for Brute...because he knew how it felt to feel threatened and alone.
“Whoa.” Jack caught the Lab before he reached them. “This is Buster and he’s not nearly as perceptive as Howler. He’s all about playing, but I don’t want him to spook Brute.”
“Thanks.” Mitch managed to get turned around and down on one knee.
Though Buster wiggled all over in happiness at meeting a new dog, Brute was not receptive.
Sitting on the grass beside him, Charlotte said, “Brute? Come here, baby,” in a soft, throaty voice that made Mitch’s ears twitch.
He watched, no longer amazed, when Brute switched over to her and leaned into her side. Bare arm around the dog, Charlotte whispered encouragement while stroking Brute’s neck and fondling his ears.
Stroking and fondling? Struggling to get his brain out of a sexual morass, Mitch said, “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Inch by inch, Charlotte let Howler wiggle in closer until the two dogs were happily sniffing each other and acting like friends again. “Jack, let Buster go, now. We’ll see how it goes.”
“You sure?” Jack asked, deferring to Mitch.
Mitch shrugged. Charlotte, with her magic touch, seemed to have it under control—which was more than he could say. “Give it a try.”
“Go easy, bud,” Jack cautioned Buster, before releasing his collar.
Ears flopping wildly, Buster bolted up to them, jumped on Howler, and the two spun away for a little roughhousing. Brute watched with interest and maybe yearning, his tail giving a few tentative wags, his expression alert.
“You know you want to,” Charlotte whispered to him. “Why not go for it, big boy?”
Mitch stared. Hard to believe, but by the second he wanted her even more.
Bounding back, Howler gave a ridiculously high-pitched yowl, and managed to entice Brute a few feet into the yard. This time when he and Buster took off, Brute loped after them.
“Well, look at that.” Brute didn’t leap into the thick of the play, instead watching on the fringe. To Mitch, the important part was him being there, occasionally running alongside the others, overall looking pretty...happy.
He turned to help Charlotte up, but she’d already stood without him noticing and was moseying into the yard, keeping close to the dogs.
In case Brute needed her? Protective. He liked that.
Hell, he liked everything about her—including that lush little behind in her shorts.
“Ahem,” Ronnie said, drawing his attention as she sauntered near.
During his second visit to the offices, he’d been briefly introduced to the wives, Ronnie and Mary. They were both attractive in different ways, but more importantly, they were as friendly as the guys.
“You’ve met the dogs, so I figured you should meet the ruler of the roost.” Ronnie nuzzled a mid-sized cat with fuzzy gray-and-brown fur and wide green eyes. “This is my Peanut.”
Cute. Mitch ran one finger beneath the cat’s chin, earning a rumbling purr. “She gets along with the dogs?”
“Peanut is a very pretty male kitty, and yes, they dote on him.”
“Ah, sorry Peanut.” From everything he’d heard, he had a feeling Ronnie would have fit right in at his old neighborhood. He liked her mess with me or mine and I’ll land my boot on your butt demeanor. She had an edge that promised one and all she wouldn’t take any shit.
With short platinum hair and an abundance of earrings, she flaunted a style all her own. For a variety of reasons, she’d turn heads wherever she went, but she aimed all her sex appeal at Jack.
Mary, Brodie’s wife, was still with Rosalyn as they carried dishes out from the house. Because her hands were full, she smiled her welcome. Despite blazing red hair, freckles and a full figure, she was a mix of elegance and business savvy.
Looking back at the cat, Mitch asked, “This is the one you rescued?”
“Yes.” Ronnie rubbed her cheek against the cat’s head. “My little cupid.”
Rolling his eyes, Jack joined them.
“You know it’s true.” Then to Mitch, she said, “Some major asshole was tormenting Peanut, and I was so furious I wanted to stick my knife in his forehead.”
Wow. Unsure if she was serious, Mitch glanced at Jack.
Blowing out a breath, Jack said, “I wish that was a joke, but curbing her wasn’t easy.”
“Ha! You didn’t curb me.” Leaning toward Mitch, she said, “You should have seen him. Jack might act all smooth and urbane, but he doesn’t tolerate cruelty. He went dark and mean real fast.” She grinned at her husband. “Sexy as hell, let me tell you.”
“You’re telling everyone,” Jack complained, but he used one arm to pull her in for a hug.
“Pretty sure that’s when I decided he was a keeper, so Peanut gets the credit. If it wasn’t for this cat, I might still be under the delusion that Jack was suave.”
The way she stated that like an insult had Mitch grinning.
From the picnic table, Mary chimed in with, “Brodie is never suave. In fact, he has one mode—caveman. It’s part of his charm.”
“I have charm,” Brodie bragged.
Damn, but he liked these people. All of them. They were like mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow created the perfect picture, rough edges and all.
“What about you?” Charlotte asked as she rejoined them. “What’s your usual mode?”
Survival. And with it, suspicion—of everyone and everything. Not something he wanted to share aloud, so he said instead, “I don’t know. Definitely not suave—”
Ronnie saluted him.
“—but I hope not a caveman either. Maybe...cautious?”
Nodding, Charlotte said, “How about honest?”
The others, all listening in, gave a chorus of “hear, hear.”
That probably made sense. After all, he had nearly bludgeoned them with his brutal honesty.
“Independent,” Ros called out.
“Determined.” Jack gave it more thought. “Stubborn.”
Laughing, Brodie called from the grill, “Glad they’re dissecting you instead of me.”
The way they did it, he didn’t mind, but he did turn the tables on Charlotte. “Your turn.”
“I don’t know.” Her brows pinched down. “I’m just me.”
“She wins people over with her baking,” Brodie offered.
“And her generosity,” Jack said.
“You guys.” Face warm, she sauntered off again.
Watching her, Mitch smiled, and silently added “humble” to the list. Also protective, proven in the way she shadowed Brute. She knew how to take a joke, and how to dish it back.
Jack said to Ronnie, “We’ve lost him.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think maybe we’re reeling him in.”
Mitch didn’t bother denying that. “Her mode is subtle.” He watched her pick a dandelion from the yard, then twirl it between her fingers. Subtle but effective, innately sensual, and almost impossible to resist.
With a frown, Jack started to say something, but got cut short.
“Who wants treats?” Rosalyn called out, and immediately Howler and Buster raced to her. Brute, unsure of the offer, approached more slowly, but once he caught on, he was just as excited as the others.
Using care to ensure they each only got one, Ros doled out the biscuits with affection.
Once Brute had his, he returned to Mitch, but since Howler followed, Brute whined.
“He’s never gotten over being starved,” Mitch explained. “Sometimes he hoards his food.”
From the grill, Brodie said, “Howler’s the opposite. He eats everything as fast as he can, usually in one big gulp.”
True enough, Howler devoured the treat in three seconds flat, then rolled to his back, plate-sized paws in the air, his droopy lips falling back to reveal sharp teeth in an odd doggy grin. Watching Brute upside down, he wiggled closer until Mitch had to laugh.
“Cut him some slack, Brute. He wants to be buddies, not steal your snack.”
Whining, Brute looked out at Buster.
“Ah, so it’s the new guy, huh? Well, I don’t think he’d steal your treat either.”
“With Buster, we never know,” Ronnie admitted. “He’s sweet, but he’s not as sharp as Howler.”
“Don’t insult the dog,” Jack said, helping Brute by breaking the treat into little bites that he hand-fed to him.
That seemed to entice Brute—or else he was afraid Jack would eat it if he didn’t.
After that, Brute found the water dishes on the back porch, then he headed out to the yard, the other dogs following, and they all returned to their play.
Hands on his hips, his heart oddly full, Mitch watched Brute dart around the yard.
Brodie came to stand beside him. “Howler won’t let other animals be strangers. Those grandmother tendencies I mentioned? He makes sure all the kids play nice.”
Mitch didn’t take his gaze off the animals because he didn’t want another man—his brother—to see how hard it hit him. He loved Brute, and damn it, he felt a kinship to him. “He deserves to loosen up.” He deserves to feel accepted.
The thought lingered, but it was yet another better left unsaid.
“Everyone does.” Lightening the moment, Brodie sniffed the air. “Hope you’re hungry. I grilled corn on the cob and potatoes to go with Mom’s famous fried chicken.”
It smelled so good, Mitch’s mouth watered.
Everyone sat at the tablecloth-covered table, and somehow he ended up between Rosalyn and Charlotte. Not that he minded bumping Charlotte every so often, feeling her thigh touch his, but damn, it worked as pure temptation. He picked up her scent without even trying.
Twice he lost track of the conversation.
No amount of distraction would keep him from noticing how they worked as a unit. Someone always had eyes on the dogs, ensuring they didn’t leave the yard. Jack got up once to refill the water dishes. Mary went inside to get the salt that Ros had forgotten. Brodie caught Ronnie’s napkin when it almost blew away. It was all so natural, it almost felt choreographed.
And the...affection. More demonstrative than Mitch, they openly teased each other—and him on occasion. They hugged, touched, laughed together.
When he’d come up with the idea of finding the brothers, he hadn’t known exactly what he wanted. A fresh start, yes. Some semblance of family, sure. Roots. Home.
This, picnics in the yard with home-cooked food and happy animals at play...it was so damn picturesque, it didn’t feel real. He’d had nearly a week with them, but it wasn’t enough.
Would a year be enough? A lifetime? Would he ever be at ease in scenarios that were as unfamiliar as flying to the moon?
He didn’t know, but he hoped to find out.
“Mitch?”
He looked up to find Charlotte watching him.
The quick smile didn’t conceal her gentle concern. “Everything okay?”
One glance around the table showed everyone looking at him, making him wonder if he’d missed a question. “What—” His phone buzzed in his pocket, giving him the perfect excuse to dodge all those penetrating stares. “Sorry, I’ll just be a second.” As he stood, Charlotte touched his arm, her gaze inquiring.
With one step he took himself out of her reach, and her hand dropped. “Be right back.”
Glad for the reprieve, he drew out the phone while walking a good distance from the table. Recognizing Lang Hardy’s number, he answered with, “Hey, Lang, what’s up?”
He didn’t count many as friend, but he and Lang had known each other since they were kids. In fact, Lang was the only one who knew where he was now.
“I’m sorry man. So damn sorry.”
The fine hairs on Mitch’s nape jumped in alarm. Anger sizzled along his spine. His breathing shortened.
He recognized those defensive reactions—learned in childhood, sharpened in prison. Walking farther away so none of the others could hear, he asked, “What did you do?”
Suddenly Brute was at his side, leaning into his leg, huffing a little with worry. Mitch automatically laid a hand on his muscled neck.
“Newman came after me.”
The shock of that took a second to hit. The sound of his own heartbeat in his ears nearly deafened him. His blood chilled.
“Mitch? Let me explain.”
Explanations weren’t necessary. If Lang had talked, he already knew why. “How bad?”
In a rush, his voice strained, Lang explained, “He wanted to know where you were. I didn’t want to tell him. I even tried to run when I first spotted them at my house—”
“Shh. It’s okay.” Staring straight ahead, not seeing anything, Mitch’s brain was already scrambling. Calmly, with the understanding Lang requested, he asked, “How bad did he hurt you?”
“He worked me over, man. Broke two fucking ribs. Blood... The old lady found me and freaked, okay? She dragged me off to the hospital and this is the first chance I’ve had to call.”
“When?” He may or may not have time to get away from his brothers and Ros, away from Charlotte, before trouble came bearing down on them all.
After a long pause, Lang admitted, “I figured he was there already. Not like you went that far.”
Definitely not far enough. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Your ass.” Lang cleared his throat. “Dude, he was in a rage. You know how he is.”
Yeah, he knew only too well. With his head dropped forward, Mitch worked the knot of tension forming in his neck. “You’re okay?”
“The ribs and nose will heal.”
“Nose?”
“That’s why there was so much blood. You know Maria. She thought I was dying, but I’ve busted ribs before.” After a short pause, Lang burst. “Goddamn it, I should have held out! I shouldn’t have blabbed to him. If I’d—”
“He wouldn’t have stopped.” Mitch knew that for a fact—because he knew Newman. He felt a little dead inside, and also quietly enraged. “He would have beaten you until he got what he wanted, or he would have used that fucking blade.” Newman looked for reasons to draw his knife.
“But I—”
“You did the right thing. Newman is my problem, not yours.”
Right behind him, Brodie said, “And your problems are ours.”
He jerked around...and there they were, every fucking one of them, listening in, intruding.
Even Charlotte.
“Gotta go, Lang. Take care of yourself.” Fingers of alarm squeezed his windpipe. He disconnected the call, then said, “This doesn’t concern any of you.”
Jack shook his head. “Not how it works with family.”
Agreeing, Brodie said, “So how about you tell us what we’re dealing with.”
Instead of backing up, Mitch took a step forward. “Sorry, no. Not this time.” Briefly, he turned to Charlotte. All her earlier sass was now subdued beneath fear. He closed his eyes, drew one breath, and said again, “Sorry,” before turning and heading for his car. Leaving Charlotte like that, without explanations, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But still he did—for her.
Brute followed.
No one else did.
CHARLOTTE WAS WORRIED.
Last night, after that awkward apology and refusal to explain, Mitch had left and no one had heard from him since. Morning had come and gone. Lunch was long over.
Where was he?
Brodie and Jack wanted to give him time. She and Ros were less convinced.
It ate her up, thinking of Mitch alone. Of him feeling alone. He wasn’t, not anymore.
Didn’t he know that?
In her heart, she knew the answer. It was all too new for him to accept it yet. A week wasn’t long enough.
Would he be different after a month? A year?
Or had his life fashioned him to where he couldn’t fully trust? From what little she knew, she couldn’t blame him.
Even before her parents died, she’d had love, affection and attention. The Crews family hadn’t missed a single step in doing all they could to keep her feeling loved. They were so wonderful, and Mitch deserved them.
But what if he left?
Her heart and head pounded in sync. He’d only just met them, only just started to relax...and now this.
From what they’d overheard last night, his mother’s boyfriend was looking for him.
Newman is my problem.
Charlotte thought Newman might be capable of anything—and that scared her. Mitch needed backup, he needed support...and they didn’t even know where he was.
Not within the town proper; she’d gone into town twice today on trumped-up excuses, first to get supplies, then later to deliver a contract that could have been mailed.
She’d looked for his distinctive car, but hadn’t seen it anywhere. With less subtlety than she would have liked, she’d asked around—but no one had seen anyone with his description.
Had he already left?
Would she never see him again?
As Brodie passed the office, he glanced at her, did a double take, and with concern pinching his brows, stepped in to squeeze her shoulder. “I asked around. No one fitting his description at the hotel.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d done the same. “There’s really nowhere else, is there?” Not exactly a tourist destination, one hotel was all Red Oak had ever needed.
“Don’t look so glum. He’ll be back.”
If only confidence was contagious. “How can you be so sure?”
With a fleeting grin, he said, “You. He’ll be back for you, honey.”
“Me?” Surprise nearly toppled her out of her chair. “How do I factor in?”
“You’re naive, but not dumb.”
Her incredulous laugh sounded a little too high. And maybe a wee bit hopeful? “He came here to meet his family.”
“Yup. But then he also met you.” He brushed a fingertip over the end of her nose. “Before meeting Mary, I might not have understood. Now? Trust me. He’ll be back.”
A mix of emotions made her wince. “And if he doesn’t?”
“Jack and I will find him. I’m willing to give him two days, so relax, okay?” With a nod at the desk, he said, “The phone is blinking.”
Oh, shoot.
In a rush she put one caller on Hold and spoke with another. The afternoon got even busier, and that helped to distract her right up until the end of the day.
Then her thoughts crashed and burned again.
Damn it, how dare Mitch show up, reel them in, then just bail over one little stupid phone call? She preferred anger over melancholy, so she dove in with that thought, fueling the flames.
How dare he flirt with her as if interested? How dare he make her interested?
And seriously, why did she care so much? Hadn’t she known for years now that she didn’t want anyone like Brodie and Jack? Yes, she had.
Mitch, being their half brother, would naturally share some similarities beyond the physical. Like his love of animals.
Given this new stunt, just disappearing on them, she knew he was stubborn and too independent as well.
Annoyed at herself, Charlotte shut down the PC, stacked the last bit of paperwork and pushed away from her desk.
By then, everyone else had already left the office. Brodie was gone overnight on a delivery and Jack wouldn’t be back until late. Ros had a hair appointment. Time to lock up and stop brooding over a man who’d apparently put her—and this family—from his mind.
With one last sweep of the office building to ensure she’d turned off the coffee, rinsed out the pot and turned out the lights, she headed to the front and grabbed her purse. Stepping out of the front room, she locked the door for the interior office, turned to go out the main door—and found three men looking in at her.
Strangers showing up at the end of business might not be unthinkable in a city, or even in town, but here? Mustang Transport was located up a hill from the main road, situated on wooded acreage that suddenly seemed far too isolated.
Alarm crawled up her spine and left her trembling.
Before she even had time to plan it out, Charlotte smiled and held up a finger in the universal sign for “just a moment,” then turned and unlocked the interior door. Her hands shook. She heard the main door open behind her just as she got the interior door open and hurriedly slipped inside, closing it fast and locking it again.
Alone in the dark, she backed up until her backside bumped the desk. Breath quickening and heart rapping against her breastbone, she wondered what to do now.
Knuckles rapped sharply against the door. “Hey, you okay in there?”
At the same time, a shadow moved past the window and she just knew someone was trying to look in.
Thankful that she’d turned out the lights, she withdrew her phone and darted into a corner, completely out of sight. She already felt foolish enough without anyone peeking in through the blinds.
“Little lady?” Voice mellow and calm, someone suggested, “Why don’t you open up?”
That he sounded pleasant only made it more threatening. She felt like a coward and didn’t care as she called the police station.
The second someone answered, she whispered, “This is Charlotte Parrish at Mustang Transport. I was just locking up when three men came in. They’re knocking on my inner office door. Strangers. I...I don’t feel right about them being here.”
“Charlotte,” said a serious but calm male voice. “This is Grant Colvin.”
Oh, thank God. Grant was a seasoned cop—a good one—and a friend of the family. Always reasonable and reliable, and kind too. “Grant, I’m sorry to bother you but—”
“Have they threatened you?”
She hated to admit it, but... “No.” It wasn’t quite seven thirty. The sun wouldn’t set for a while yet. It would literally take her two minutes to drive down to the main street—if she was in her car. And yet... “Do you think you could send someone by?”
“I’m on my way.” She heard him moving, the sound of keys jangling. “Did you ask them to leave?”
She frowned, then covered the phone to say loudly, “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow morning.” When Brodie or Jack are here.
The doorknob rattled violently.
Or maybe that was just her jangled nerves.
“Open up, girl. I only want to talk to you, maybe ask you a few questions.”
She managed a breath and said into the phone, “I just did and they’re not budging.”
“Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Quietly, okay? If you cause a scene and they’re just here for business...” I’ll really feel like a fool.
“It’ll be like a social call,” Grant promised.
The call disconnected.
Leaning back against the wall, her arms hugged around herself, Charlotte tried to calculate how long it would take Grant to get from the station to the office.
And how easy it’d be for someone to kick in that door.