A WEEK WENT by with no word from Newman. According to the hotel clerk, he’d checked out the same day Colvin had talked to him in the diner. To go where? He sure as hell wasn’t gone from the area. Mitch knew better than that. So where was he?
Not knowing put him in limbo, caught between two different worlds. Right there, within his grasp, was a new existence full of possibilities, morality and honor. But every shadow held the same old ugly past filled with emotional pain, impossible choices and the reminder that life in a cell was no life at all.
A bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he struggled with a heavy rack. It was hot as Hades inside the barn, but at least it had been freshly aired.
Working with Jack and Brodie, they’d not only put bushes around the offices, they’d also gotten the house painted, the machinery in working order, and... He had a life.
A substantial life.
A basis for building more.
Little by little, it got easier to let them pitch in, especially when they didn’t hesitate to ask for favors in return. While Jack and Brodie were both away, Ros asked him to pick up a stray cat to take to the shelter. During a storm that knocked out the power, Brodie asked him to check on his house.
Each day, one of them ensured that Charlotte wasn’t at the office alone.
They included him, helping him—and asking for help. It made him feel less like a project they worked on, and more like an equal partner.
Actually, it made him feel like...well, a brother.
He wouldn’t let Newman ruin things, but every heartbeat in his chest reminded him that he was out there, a ticking time bomb waiting for the right moment to do the most damage.
Disgusted, Mitch finished hammering the tool rack into the barn wall so he could properly arrange everything tomorrow. For once, he’d put in a full day alone while the brothers took care of their other jobs.
It felt like a reprieve, a chance to get his thoughts together without them wearing on him, making him think things he shouldn’t yet think—not with Newman on the loose.
The extra hands had been great, but Mitch didn’t shy away from hard work. He welcomed the stiffness in his shoulders now, and the sweat on his back.
Only downside? He missed Charlotte like crazy. She had a way of nudging him anytime his thoughts got too dark. Mitch wasn’t sure if she had crazy coincidental timing—or if she was just that tuned in to him.
Jack and Brodie would have to end the “hands off” stance soon, because he didn’t know how much longer he could resist.
Inside the barn, the shadows grew until he could no longer see well enough to keep working. He really needed electricity out here, but for now, the battery-operated lantern sitting on a post helped. He’d just about finished anyway.
Brute napped nearby, his head resting over a bag of grass seed that Mitch would use to fill the patchy spots in the yard.
In and around fixing up the place and trading favors, he and Brute had hung out with the family. Thinking it sent the corners of his mouth kicking up.
Before actually meeting them, family had been such an elusive idea. He’d had only a vague notion of what they’d look like and how they’d react. Making their acquaintances, he’d thought, would be enough—but of course, he’d hoped for more. Occasional visits. Some common ground.
Never, not once, had he imagined that they’d be so unbelievable. Surreal. Incredibly awesome.
Hell, with his background, he hadn’t trusted anything to be awesome. He’d expected to claw his way through every day.
Not anymore. Not since he’d discovered that his half brothers were two of the finest men he’d ever known. Big and solid, both in character and in build. Pushy, yes, but with good intentions. Sometimes funny, always sincere.
They were men he could proudly call family, and it stumped him that they wanted to do the same.
And Charlotte. Lord help him, but every time he saw her, his wants and needs doubled. He wanted family. He wanted that fanciful idea of home and hearth.
Now he wanted Charlotte too.
She never left his thoughts for long.
Craziest part? It wasn’t just physical with her, and that was a first for him with women.
Yes, Charlotte made him nuts with her approach, pushing where the others stepped back. Tweaking their curiosity whenever she sought to satisfy her own. Anytime he and one of the brothers came to an agreement, her sweet face showed innocent pleasure, the pure kind that was all about being happy for someone else.
Being happy for him.
He couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that before.
Absolutely, the physical attraction was stronger than anything he’d known. Hell, he wasn’t used to holding back. He saw something he wanted, he went after it.
It was the only way he’d ever gotten anything at all.
Now, because this was important, he had to follow someone else’s rules.
How much longer did they want him to wait? How much longer could he last?
Often when Charlotte came along, she brought lunch or dinner. The week had been filled with impromptu picnics, sometimes with him, Charlotte and one of the brothers. Other times both brothers made it, and occasionally Ros was there as well.
He now had a picnic table, thanks to Jack.
And a rocker for his porch, thanks to Ros.
They overwhelmed him—and Charlotte burned him up.
He’d like to think she’d wanted to come along each time, but he knew the guys refused to let her be alone.
They were no more convinced that Newman had left than Mitch was.
After storing all his tools, he started out of the barn, calling Brute to come along. With a grumble and long stretch, the dog trotted out and Mitch put the lock back on the barn doors.
In its last farewell for the day, the setting sun left a slender, hazy red line bleeding along the horizon. Evening brought cooler air, but not cool enough to be comfortable.
When his cell rang, Mitch automatically hoped it was Newman. Until the bastard made contact, he was an invisible threat left unresolved. Setting the lantern on the porch and opening the door for Brute to go into the screened-in room, Mitch dug his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
Jack, not Newman.
He wouldn’t be disappointed that his brother was calling him. Yes, he wanted it to be Newman, but he had brothers now, and he’d never take that for granted.
Dropping down to sit on the wooden step, already smiling, he hit a button. “What’s up, Jack?”
“How busy are you?”
Another favor? He’d never be too busy for his new family. “Just about to take a shower. Why?”
“Someone at the bar asked about you.”
That statement put the brakes on every thought except: Newman. “When?”
“Not more than ten minutes ago. You have time to take a shower if you want, then head that way. We’ll meet you there.”
Already on his feet and striding down the hall, Mitch said, “Fuck the shower—”
“You have time.”
That brought him up short. “How the hell do you know that?”
“There’s a new guy working at Freddie’s. Brodie and I paid him to let us know if anyone asks about you.”
Son of a... “Been nice if you’d told me.” Mitch grabbed a towel and stepped into the bathroom, opening his jeans one-handed. “How do you know he won’t take off?”
“Our guy told us he was busy chatting up a few women. Looked to be setting things up with a barmaid who’s still working, so he ordered food.”
Jesus. He wouldn’t wish Newman on any woman. If she knew him at all, she’d look for less lethal companionship. “I’ll head that way soon as I wash off the sweat. And Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
He showered in record time, gave a few swipes of the towel over his body, pulled boxers and a T-shirt onto his still damp skin, then rummaged through a drawer for clean jeans. By the time he was pulling on running shoes, barely ten minutes had passed.
Grabbing up his wallet, keys and cell phone, he started through the house—and found Brute sitting in the hallway, head cocked and eyes watchful.
“You can’t go this time, bud. Sorry.”
Flattening his ears, Brute whined.
“Ah, damn, don’t do that, okay?” Dropping to one knee, Mitch took a few minutes to cuddle him. “Every so often, I have to leave you behind, but it’s temporary, I swear.”
Those sincere brown eyes seemed to understand, making him feel a little less guilty.
“How about a treat?”
That got his ears back up.
“Yeah, you like that idea, don’t you? C’mon, boy.” Patting his thigh, Mitch went into the kitchen, forcing himself not to rush out. He found a big beef-flavored treat that usually took Brute a half hour or more to gnaw down. Hopefully by then he’d be ready for more lazing around. “Here ya go, bud.”
Sitting on his haunches, his tail brushing the floor in broad sweeps, Brute accepted the treat between sharp teeth.
“Good boy.”
Leaving Brute sprawled on the floor, the bone-shaped treat between his front paws while he worked it over, Mitch headed out, locking the door behind him.
Anxious to get hold of Newman before he could slither away again, he jogged to his car.
On the drive, he concentrated on clearing his head. Dealing with Newman required cold, emotionless concentration, not rage.
Unfortunately when he pulled up to park on a side street adjacent to the bar, he found Ros and Charlotte getting out of Charlotte’s car. Everything in him rebelled.
Where the hell was Jack?
“There you are,” Ros called. “We were waiting for you.”
Utterly flattened, his gaze shot back and forth from her smiling face to Charlotte’s gentle scrutiny. “Why are you here?”
Hooking her arm through his, Ros said, “For you, of course.”
She tried to go forward but Mitch planted his feet and refused to budge. Easy enough. Incredulity left him rigid enough that his joints stopped working. Guessing the instigator of this little surprise, he frowned at Charlotte. “You actually brought her here?”
Charlotte opened her mouth—but Ros cut her off.
“I would have driven myself if she hadn’t.”
So not Charlotte’s fault—but that still didn’t explain the outrageous irresponsibility of their presence. “Jack actually let you...”
“Ha!” Pulling away, Ros jammed her hands onto her rounded hips. “Get it through your head, Mitch, no one tells me what I can or can’t do, where I can or can’t go. Especially not my sons.”
He swallowed. Ros had a mean way of staring when irate, and clearly she was. He couldn’t recall his own mother ever using that particular tone with him.
Usually too lit to do more than sneer, she had rarely cared enough to put in the effort.
It was the first time Ros had been that cross with him—and some fickle part of him appreciated that she, at least, considered him worth it. “Rosalyn, listen—”
“No, you listen.” She hooked his arm again, tighter this time. “We’re here with you.”
She propelled him forward three steps before he dug in again. “Where the hell is Jack?”
“Here,” Jack said, coming up behind him. “And there’s Brodie.”
He looked up to see Brodie crossing the street toward them.
Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.
Disgusted, he asked, “And your wives?” That’s all he needed to round out this farce.
Aggrieved, Jack looked back to his yellow Mustang parked in the lot of the drugstore beneath security lights. “Ronnie’s there.” Pained, he added, “I convinced her we needed her to keep watch in case Newman tries to sneak out the back.”
“And if he does?” Brodie asked, amused.
“She promised to call me, so...here’s hoping she doesn’t lose her cool and do something crazy.”
That made Ros frown in worry; she hugged his arm even more.
“Mary agreed to stay home with Howler, Buster and Peanut.” Brodie popped his neck from one side to the other, then rolled his shoulders and muttered, “Only took me twenty minutes to convince her.”
“Well.” Charlotte laced her fingers together. “Maybe we should head in?”
“Yes,” Ros said. “Let’s do.” They started forward.
One happy little group—not that Mitch was happy. Why should Ros and Charlotte be there? Why had Brodie and Jack even told Charlotte about it? Except...they were close. Anyone could see that.
Did that mean sharing every damn thing? God, he hoped not.
They turned the corner, got halfway to the entrance and...
The door to Freddie’s opened. Music and conversation spilled out with muted golden light, until the tall silhouette of a broad-shouldered man shadowed it all. With his back to them, the guy looked down one side of the street. Letting the door close, he turned the other way—toward them—and the bottom fell out of Mitch’s stomach.
No. It couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.
But it was.
“You,” Ros whispered, the single word quiet with an outraged strain that grew and grew until it fairly crackled with heat—and she erupted. “Bastard.”
Finally, she released Mitch. Hell, she pushed away from him so hard and fast, she all but launched herself up the sidewalk like a missile with one target in mind.
Her ex-husband.
Brodie and Jack’s father. Mitch’s father too.
The one and only Elliott Crews.
STUNNED SURPRISE RENDERED Charlotte mute. The last thing they needed tonight was a visit from Elliott, yet here he was. Big, good-looking—and if she read Ros’s mood right, about to get his butt kicked.
Jack rushed forward with a muttered curse. Brodie heaved a sigh and followed.
Mitch wore an expression so enigmatic, Charlotte couldn’t guess at his thoughts. It was as if he’d gone perfectly still, every inch of his face carefully devoid of expression. No frown. No curiosity.
No welcome.
It had to be painful for him to see Elliott again, given their background and the way Elliott had walked away, leaving Mitch to an unthinkable fate.
Easing closer to him, wanting to offer comfort whether he wanted it or not, Charlotte nudged him and whispered, “Oops.”
He didn’t look down at her, but for the briefest second or two she detected a slight smile.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Brodie and Jack caught Ros in mid jump and managed to interrupt her attack on their dad. The fist that Ros swung—not an open palm, but an actual fist—missed Elliott by only a few inches.
“Rosalyn,” Elliott said in alarm, reaching out to her. “Honey, what is it?”
For a second, Ros struggled against her sons. Anger seemed to have stolen her voice, but her glare was enough to make Elliott take a quick step back.
Flat, irate, Jack asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m visiting.” But the way Elliott said it, everyone saw the lie, especially when his gaze skipped past them to Mitch. After a three-second stare and a slow blink, Elliott released a long breath. “Mitch. You’re all grown up.”
Charlotte felt compelled to scoot even closer to him, close enough that her hand brushed his.
Rather than take it, Mitch reached around and opened his hot palm to the small of her back, moving forward and taking her with him. “Elliott,” he said with the same enthusiasm he might use to order a coffee. It was respectful but nothing more.
For her part, Charlotte was pleased that Mitch wanted her by his side.
Or was he just not thinking?
Whatever the reason, she was oh-so-keenly aware of the iron strength in his arm, the warmth emanating from his big body and the frantic pumping of her own heart.
“You look good,” Elliott said, infusing some pride into his tone. “Big, strong.”
“I look like you.”
Elliott actually grinned. “Indeed, you do.”
Ros shrugged away from Brodie and Jack, then hiked her purse strap up over her shoulder and smoothed back the long strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
Better composed but no less furious, she looked up at the man she’d once loved enough to marry, the man who had given her two wonderful sons. Charlotte knew that’s how Ros thought about Elliott, because she’d told her so. Ros was aware of his faults but, according to her, divorcing him did not negate his paternity.
Most times Ros treated him kindly without tolerating his nonsense.
Not today.
“You, Elliott Crews, are the most reprehensible, irredeemable, irresponsible and selfish person I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.”
Elliott frowned down at Ros in consternation. At fifty-eight, he was still a very handsome man, his bearing proud, his shoulders rock solid. He had a way of wearing his sandy brown hair that looked casual and unaffected but still drew female appreciation.
Elliott might not have it in him to ever settle down, but no one could doubt that Ros was his one true love. If he could be a better man for anyone, it would have been for her.
“Is this about Mitch?”
Agog, Charlotte’s mouth fell open. Of all the stupid things to ask—did he seriously not understand the situation?
The cavalier question set Ros off again and this time, she managed to pop him one in the shoulder.
More out of surprise than pain, Elliott winced, but Ros pulled back, biting her lip and shaking her hand.
Unwisely, Elliott asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”
New fury had her drawing up until she looked a foot taller. “You hurt me. You hurt everyone who ever cared about you!” Shaking her injured fist at him, she demanded, “How could you?”
He leaned away from her fury. “How could I what?”
Playing peacekeeper, Brodie stepped between them before Ros could hit him again. “Don’t play dumb, Dad. She has reason to be pissed and you know it. We all do.”
Jack, never as diplomatic when it came to his father, said, “Even I’m surprised you’d stoop so low, and it’s not like I ever expected much from you.”
Aggrieved, Elliott looked at Mitch again. “This is about you, I guess?”
Mitch offered an awkward shrug. “Apparently, but that’s not why I’m here. I never meant to—”
Everyone started talking at once, including Charlotte. Knotting a hand in his shirt, she drew his attention first. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
One brow cocked, Mitch looked down at her with a hint of amusement reflected in his golden-brown eyes. His much larger hand settled over hers, engulfing her fingers in warmth. “No?”
“Absolutely not,” Brodie said.
And Jack added, “Not to him. Not ever.”
Mitch ignored them, choosing to keep all his concentration on her.
Floundering, Charlotte muttered, “I thought we had this settled.”
He gave one small nod. “Looks a little different now, with him here too.”
“They’re right,” Elliott said, drawing Mitch’s gaze. “This is where you should be. In fact, I’m relieved you’re here. I was looking for you back at your old place but the entire house is gone. Wiped away. There’s nothing but an empty lot and large equipment. Something about expanding the highway.” His gaze warmed. “I was hoping you’d come here.”
“You left him there,” Ros reminded him. “You left him alone.”
Elliott shook his head. “I—”
“Your selfishness sickens me.” She turned away.
“Ros, honey...” He caught her arm, but she jerked back from his touch and his hand fell to his side. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
At that, both of Mitch’s brows rose.
He, better than anyone, knew the facts. Probably because he didn’t want to cause a scene, he stayed quiet and just listened.
It killed her that he felt he needed to do that. Neither of the other brothers would hesitate to give their father hell when he needed it. And he needed it now.
In her opinion, Elliott had behaved badly one too many times. But this, walking away from his son, was something that the Crews family might not be able to forgive.
“I have my faults,” Elliott said, sounding annoyed. “I won’t ever say I don’t.”
All the glares intensified—except for Mitch, who stood away from the others, both physically and emotionally. Charlotte leaned into his side. He could stand apart if that’s what he wanted right now, but by God, she’d stand with him.
Accepting that, accepting her, he tightened his arm around her back.
“You have plenty of reason to hate me,” Elliott said to Ros, “and I’ve been damned surprised in the past when you didn’t.”
“That’s changing,” Ros informed him.
His mouth firmed. “You know me, honey, better than anyone. Do you honestly believe I wanted to leave Mitch?”
“You always left us,” Jack reminded him without sympathy.
“You had her!” Elliott jabbed a finger toward Ros. “Hell, I knew you were well taken care of.”
“No thanks to you, Dad,” Brodie pointed out.
“I know that. I know I’m a grade-A bastard. But with Mitch...” His gaze softened and he rubbed his mouth. “Newman threatened to hurt him, okay? Him and his mother. He said if I came back around it’d be them who paid for it.”
“You left,” Ros corrected, “because Newman threatened you.”
“That’s what you think?” As realization dawned, that they all did in fact believe it, Elliott growled. “Not fucking likely.”
“Watch your mouth.”
That warning came from Jack, Brodie and Ros, and it seemed to amuse Mitch. After shaking his head, he glanced at each of them, and shook it again. She even heard his small chuckle.
Was he finally seeing, maybe accepting, what it meant to have family in his corner? If so, hallelujah. In Charlotte’s mind, it was past time.
Though that small smile stayed in place, his hand started rubbing little circles over the small of her back, sort of caressing, maybe just restless.
Whatever, she liked it.
It showed that he wasn’t unaffected, but also that he felt at ease with her. Like her, he wanted the physical connection.
“I don’t blame you,” Mitch finally said. “Newman threatened everyone, and he often followed through. He said he’d neuter you, right?”
Surprise took Elliott’s brows high. “You heard that?”
Mitch shrugged. “It explained why you stopped coming around.”
“Well, understand this.” He started toward Mitch, until both Brodie and Jack blocked his way. Chagrined, Elliott relented. “Newman hated it whenever I was around, and he told me so every chance he got. Big deal. I didn’t care. Not until he stated that if he saw me again, it’d be you and Velma paying for it. He was damned explicit in those threats too. Said even if I called the cops on him, he had friends who’d get to you both.”
Thoughtful, Mitch studied him. “Probably true. His cronies were as cowardly and cruel as him.”
Elliott looked away, then back. “I talked to Velma, offered to put you both somewhere safe, but she wouldn’t go. She kept saying she loved Newman, that she needed him. I told her what Newman had said and she...” His voice trailed off, then with apology, he admitted, “It didn’t matter. Not enough.”
The same devastation Charlotte felt was reflected in the dark eyes of Ros, Brodie and Jack.
And Mitch... Mitch’s eyes held stoicism, pride and the awful acceptance of his mother’s shortcomings.
“She was an addict,” Mitch said, disrupting the pained silence as if her addiction explained everything—the neglect he’d suffered, the love and protection she’d withheld. “Newman supplied her fix and that made him the most important person in her world.”
For him to state the truth so baldly, Charlotte imagined Mitch had accepted the crushing pain long ago. He didn’t show it, but she felt it for him, so much so she had to blink back tears.
Softly, Elliott replied, “I know. I just didn’t know what to do about it—except steer clear of him. That’s why I started trying to see you in secret.”
Still sorting it out, Mitch frowned. “He said he ran you off because you valued your...”
“My balls?” Elliott scoffed. “He threatened one ridiculous thing after another. Every single time I was there, actually. He knew I wasn’t afraid of him, and that’s why he switched up the threats to you and Velma.” This time when Elliott pressed forward, Brodie and Jack stepped aside to let him. “I was worried about you, son. I checked in with Velma often, sent her money a few times a year. She said you were doing great, but I didn’t really believe her—especially when she reiterated what Newman said, warning me to stay away.”
New tension traveled over Mitch. “She never told me.”
“Shit,” Elliott muttered, looking away. “I swear to you—”
“I believe you.”
Very quietly, Charlotte asked, “Did she tell you Mitch went to prison?”
Elliott’s chin jerked up, almost like he’d been struck. He breathed a little harder, then shook his head just as hard. “No,” he said through his teeth. “No one mentioned that.”
For a time the two men just stared at each other, emotions, questions, grief silently passing between them.
“Newman dragged you into one of his deals, didn’t he?” Sawing his teeth together, Elliott asked, “Did he make it sound like life or death?”
“Pretty much, yeah. For Mom, it would have been.”
When Elliott looked at Charlotte again, she explained the details of it. At least, as much as she knew about it, given the bare bone facts Mitch had shared.
“She never said a word.” Elliott worked his jaw. “Over the last year, she hasn’t even answered my calls—”
“She’s gone,” Mitch interrupted. He filled his chest with a slow breath but otherwise maintained his statue-like stillness. “Overdosed.”
“Jesus, son.” Elliott looked like he wanted to embrace him, but Mitch’s stance—as cold as carved granite—shut down the idea before it could happen.
Had Elliott ever embraced him? Many times she’d seen him hug Brodie and Jack, sometimes whether they wanted it or not. But then, they had Ros as a buffer—a bighearted woman who reminded them that Elliott was their father any time they got fed up with him. She’d explain that he did love them and was doing the best he could while being the flawed man he was.
From all that she could tell, Mitch had never had anyone to nudge him along, to assure him of love.
To champion him.
Full of sincerity, Elliott said, “I’m so damn sorry.”
“My mother—”
“She had her demons, son. I knew that.”
Mitch nodded.
Elliott tilted his chin toward at Ros. “She could tell you I’m not the sticking around kind. I would never deny that. But I would have helped Velma start over if she’d have let me.”
Mitch searched his face before apparently accepting what he said. Some of his tension seeped away. “I tried too—with the same result. No matter what Newman did, she clung to him.”
No matter what Newman did... Those words covered a lot of possibilities, none of them good.
“It wasn’t a healthy love.”
“Not by a long shot,” Mitch agreed.
Ros made an effort to calm her tone, but there was no disguising the anger in her posture. “You knew all this, Elliott. You knew what type of man this Newman person was, you knew that his mother struggled with addiction, and still you let him run you off, and then he made life for Mitch as hellish as he could.”
“Ros.” Though Mitch spoke softly, steel underlined the rebuke. “It wasn’t like that. Besides, I told you I didn’t stick around there either.”
“Because you left when you were still a minor,” Brodie said. “And you haven’t yet said where you went.”
“Here and there.” Mitch’s chin notched a tiny bit higher. “It’s not important.”
Charlotte had an awful suspicion what that might mean, as did the others. It seemed most likely that Mitch had survived on the streets. He might not want to talk about it, but his family did—and they were never easy to dissuade.
“I should have killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance,” Elliott growled.
“I wish you had,” Ros snapped. “You might still get your chance since he’s been seen around town.”
Giving Ros a sharp-eyed glance and getting her nod in return, Elliott slowly smiled. “It would be my ever-lasting pleasure to beat him into the ground.”
It was the oddest thing, seeing the remoteness fade from Mitch’s eyes. He didn’t lower his chin and his shoulders remained stiff, but he huffed a short laugh. “All that arrogant confidence...” Glancing at Brodie and Jack, he asked, “Looks like you inherited it, huh?”
“As did you,” Ros replied.
Jack smirked. “But luckily little else.”
“What about a love of cars?” Elliott bragged. “You sure as hell didn’t get that from your mom.”
A car door slammed and someone laughed.
For the first time since they’d seen each other, Elliott looked around, and that prompted Charlotte to do the same. Good Lord, she’d forgotten they were on a public sidewalk! At this time of night, Freddie’s bar was the busiest establishment in town.
She was relieved to see there were only a few people milling around: a younger couple across the street, two men standing outside the bar smoking, and a mother with her kids getting into her car.
Only a few, but enough that in a town the size of Red Oak, news of the family squabble would be the talk at every breakfast table tomorrow morning.
“We’ve caused a spectacle,” Elliott grumbled.
“That’s all on you.” Clearly, Ros wouldn’t give an inch. “We run a respectable business here. We’re liked by the town. You’re the one—”
Elliott tried to schmooze up to her. “It was a shitty situation, honey. What did you want me to do?”
As if she’d been waiting for that question, Ros shot up to her tiptoes to say close to his face, “You should have brought him to me!”