All Fired Up

by Lori Foster

  “Well, he has us now,” Ros announced with conviction. “Whatever problems might arise, I expect you all to help work through it.”

  The rumbling purr of a car engine outside froze everyone for a second, before they scrambled en masse to their feet. Brodie led the pack as they paraded down the hallway for the entry door. At the last second, Ros took the lead, with Brodie and Jack at her back, leaving Charlotte to peer around them.

  Mitch parked a sleek black Mustang.

  “When I see Elliott again,” Ros growled, “he’s going to catch hell.”

  Charlotte almost grinned. No one knew how to pitch a fit like Rosalyn. What a surprise Elliott would have when he deigned to show up. They didn’t know when to expect him, but they knew he’d eventually put in another appearance.

  He always did.

  “Looks like a seventy-two.” Even while scowling, Brodie admired the car.

  “Birthday present.” Jack worked his jaw. “The bastard.”

  Charlotte knew he meant Elliott, not Mitch.

  Elliott liked to gift his sons with Mustangs that they could fix up. It was a gesture meant to make up for all the many times he wasn’t there—which was more often than not. No doubt Mitch’s car had been a rusted pile when he’d received it.

  What upset everyone, though, was the proof that Elliott had known Mitch was his son; he wouldn’t have given him the Mustang otherwise.

  Peeking around big shoulders and long arms, she saw the fury darkening three Crews faces. “Smile,” Charlotte reminded them, and the two brothers deliberately lightened their frowns.

  Ros had to draw a deep breath.

  As Mitch opened the passenger door and a black dog came out of the back, Brodie shook his head. “Looks like Dad, drives a Mustang, and has a dog in tow. He’s not only related, but we have a lot in common.”

  Oh, how Charlotte hoped that was true. She already liked Mitch, and already wanted the best for him.

  This family was it.

  Surprise and unease showed in Mitch’s frown when he looked up and found them all gawking. Today he wore a white pullover, faded jeans and black sneakers. Morning sunshine put a golden glow in his dark blond hair and slanted over his high cheekbones, emphasizing his clean-shaven jaw.

  Only a man with his chiseled build could make casual clothes look so mouthwateringly sexy.

  Pushing the door wider, Brodie stepped out. “Welcome, to you and the dog.”

  Seeing Mitch again lit an ache deep inside her. But he wasn’t here for casual dating.

  The man needed family.

  And she needed to stay out of the way.

  Realization of that wrought a sigh—and Mitch’s attention zeroed in on her.

  She felt...well, caught. Literally. As if she couldn’t look away. His attention lingered a heartbeat more, just long enough, really, to make her breath thicken and send a flush to her face.

  He didn’t quite smile, but still she sensed his satisfaction before he drew his gaze away to take in the sprawling building for the Mustang Transport Courier Service.

  Able to breathe again, she inhaled deeply, and took advantage of his distraction to enjoy a longer, more thorough look at him. His mussed hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it a few times. Faded jeans displayed the strength in his thighs, and the soft cotton shirt molded over his shoulders and chest before hanging more loosely around his narrower midsection.

  No man should look that good—and yet, she couldn’t stop staring.

  When Mitch lifted a hand to shade his eyes, she stared at the flexing biceps.

  Brodie nudged her, hard enough to make her stumble. “You’re about to drool. Honest to God, it’s almost embarrassing.”

  Afraid Mitch might hear, Charlotte hissed back, “Shut up,” while managing a smile for Mitch’s benefit.

  Brodie snorted, but didn’t say anything else.

  Nervousness welled up as Mitch strode forward, and that irritated her. She didn’t get nervous around men. One benefit of spending so much time with Brodie and Jack—she was usually immune to big, badass guys and their overly intent, intrusive ways. Next to them, she barely noticed other guys.

  Not so with Mitch.

  To cover her reaction, she concentrated on greeting the dog. “Who’s this handsome fellow?”

  Brodie said, “We already know his name is Mitch.”

  Jack choked on a laugh, but Mitch stalled, his gaze again snapping to Charlotte.

  Heat scalded her face as she contemplated strangling Brodie’s thick neck. “You know I meant the dog!”

  “Yeah, I did.” Brodie grinned. “But I figured we could lighten up the moment a little, you know?”

  Wary, his jaw tight, Mitch put a hand to the dog’s thick neck. “This is Brute. He’s shy.”

  At the mention of his name, Brute looked up at Mitch with adoration, then sat on his left sneaker with his shoulder pressed to Mitch’s right leg. His tongue lolled out and he panted.

  Charlotte couldn’t help but be charmed. “He’s gorgeous.”

  And Brodie, the never-ending ass, said, “Thanks. He looks a lot like me, don’t you think?”

  “The dog?” Charlotte snapped back. “Yes, given the slobber and open mouth, I see the resemblance!”

  Jack decided to chime in with, “Comparing that animal to Brodie is an insult—for the dog.”

  This time, Mitch cracked a smile, and oh, it did devastating things to his already gorgeous looks.

  Yes, he did look like Brodie, but not enough to bother her.

  Ros said to Mitch, “We’re surrounded by toddlers, and this one—” she swatted Brodie “—is the worst. If he doesn’t knock it off, he’ll be in a time-out.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Brodie said dramatically, not the least concerned.

  Hands in his pockets, Jack nodded at the black Mustang. “Nice car.”

  “Thanks. I only recently finished with it. A month ago, it looked like a quilt with one door and the hood in different colors, and all the primer in between.”

  One eye narrowed, Jack said, “I suppose Dad gave you the car?”

  Mitch opened a hand over Brute’s neck. “When I was fifteen.”

  “Figures.” Holding the door wider, Jack indicated he should head down the hall. “He gave us Mustangs as well.”

  Surprise arched his brows. “Yeah?”

  “It’s his grand gesture,” Brodie explained. “The only birthday gift I can remember from him.”

  “He thought it was my eighteenth birthday.”

  Mitch’s half grin did crazy things to her stomach. She tried not to stare, she really did, but it took a lot of effort for her to give her attention to the dog.

  The young pit bull kept pace with Mitch while avoiding everyone else.

  “Did you tell him?” she asked, curious about his relationship with Elliott.

  Mitch shook his head. “No. Getting it early worked out. It gave me a few years to work on it so it was running and road-safe before I had my license.”

  Brodie gave a gruff laugh. “Dad always shot for the eighteenth birthday—and always missed it by a few miles. I got mine at twenty-one and Jack got his at twenty-four.”

  That threw Mitch, interrupting his perusal of the offices. He went from curiously glancing around to perplexed. “But...he’s your dad.”

  “Yours as well,” Brodie said, urging him forward and into the break room. “If he led you to think he was a doting dad to us, he lied.”

  Brodie sprawled into a chair, and Ros seated herself across from him. Charlotte slipped in behind the others, hanging back so she wouldn’t interfere, and wishing Brodie and Jack would lighten up on Elliott.

  None of them knew how Mitch felt about the man.

  It was one thing for family to air Elliott’s faults, but if anyone else chimed in, Brodie and Jack natura
lly defended him. It came down to him being their father, and that broad sense of loyalty.

  Did Mitch want to defend Elliott? Or did he want to do his own complaining? It wouldn’t hurt to give him time to settle in so they could find out.

  He glanced back at her. She smiled. He frowned and turned back to the others.

  But he didn’t take a seat.

  A gentleman? How sweet.

  “Mom raised us,” Jack said as he too sat at the table. “Even before they divorced, Dad wasn’t around much, and when he was, he was distracted with other things.”

  “And other women.” Brodie’s fingers drummed on the tabletop as he looked up at Mitch. “Only useful thing he taught me was how to work on cars.”

  “Same here,” Jack said.

  As if unsure what to believe, maybe in deep thought, Mitch frowned. “I didn’t realize...” He hesitated, one hand on the back of the chair. “Guess I had a different impression.”

  “Never mind them,” Ros said, giving Brodie and Jack an effective glare. “Join us. Get comfortable.”

  Glancing back at Charlotte again, he gestured at the chair. “Why don’t you sit?”

  Now with everyone looking at her, she felt conspicuous. “That’s okay. I might need to answer the phone or something.” Her flustered laugh sounded ridiculous. “The office won’t run itself.”

  Brodie snorted. “What she means is that Jack and I are idiots and didn’t offer her a seat.”

  “You don’t usually need to,” she assured them. “I know how to sit myself down.” And since the four of them were the only ones who used the break room, there’d always been enough chairs.

  “One of us should have thought to get another chair,” Ros said.

  “I’ll stand,” Mitch said, again offering the chair.

  Gawd, now she wanted to groan. “No, seriously. I’ll be in and out, so...” She flapped a hand in insistence. “Sit.”

  The dog gave her a look...and sat.

  That made them all chuckle.

  Unconvinced but going along, Mitch patted Brute and then settled into a chair. The dog scooted over next to him.

  The position near the door suited Charlotte. It was bad enough that she kept staring at the back of his head. She didn’t need to sit at the table where he’d actually see her staring. Where she could look into his eyes. And at his mouth.

  Awkwardness filled the space. She cleared her throat, earning another quick look from him.

  “So.” Brodie regarded him. “Did Dad teach you about cars too?”

  With a laugh that he quickly cut short, Mitch shook his head. His succinct, “No,” made it clear the idea of Elliott teaching him anything was pretty ludicrous.

  Never in her life had she felt such a driving urge to hug a man.

  He rubbed at one ear. “Thing is, when he visited, we usually went somewhere. For a burger or something, you know?”

  “He should have helped you work on the car,” Brodie said.

  “Naw. He knew he couldn’t. We didn’t have a garage or anything, and out front of my house wouldn’t work.”

  Charlotte wanted to ask, Why not? She opted to stay quiet instead. But she did scoot to the side a little, so she could see his profile. He had the same sharp cheekbones as the brothers, the same straight nose and squared chin.

  “Elliott got it towed to a friend’s house for me and I worked on it there.”

  “Alone?” Ros asked.

  Muscles flexed as he lifted one shoulder and grinned. “Don’t make it sound all tragic, okay? It gave me something to do, kept me busy.” As if just remembering, he added, “He got me tools too to help me get started.”

  “Who taught you?” Jack asked.

  “Trial and error, mostly.” Definite humor lightened his tone. “I helped out at various garages from the time I was ten, and I guess I picked up a few things. My friend, Lang, had a cell phone, so sometimes he’d look up YouTube videos and stuff.”

  Mitch tried to paint a nice picture, but judging by expressions, no one bought into it.

  He’d worked in garages from the time he was ten?

  More softly, Ros asked, “How often did you see him?”

  “Elliott?” Stalling, he sat back and pretended to consider the question, his posture relaxed but his expression tense. “I guess four or five times a year, at least until I was fifteen or so.”

  Charlotte could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she waited to see who would ask.

  Scowling, Jack took the honors. “And after you were fifteen?”

  Smile sardonic, Mitch said, “Newman—my mom’s boyfriend—became more of a regular deal.”

  “What did Newman have to do with it?” Brodie asked.

  “Well, see, he was a grade-A pr...” He glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte, then Ros, and cleared his throat. “A real jerk. He and Elliott got into it pretty good a few times.”

  “They fought?” Brodie asked.

  “It never quite came to that. I guess Newman ran him off.”

  “Pfft,” Ros said. “Elliott could handle himself.”

  Amused by that, Mitch said, “You don’t know Newman.”

  She smiled. “No, but I know Elliott.”

  Charlotte watched the curve of his mouth, heard his short laugh as he shook his head.

  “If you say so. Thing is, Newman carried a knife and liked to use it.”

  “My wife carries a knife,” Jack said. “And trust me, she likes to use hers as well. But I don’t run from her.”

  That disclosure left Mitch brows-up and blinking. “Your wife?”

  “She has deadly precision.” Disgruntled as always when he discussed Ronnie’s ability, Jack muttered, “Thank God she uses her powers for good and not evil.”

  Chuckling over that, Brodie told Mitch, “Wait until you meet Ronnie. Then you’ll see what he means.”

  “Well...” Repeatedly, his gaze came back to Charlotte, and each time it felt like they connected physically.

  At least to her. She had no idea what Mitch felt.

  “Newman might not have that much power, but he’s evil all the way. He threatened to neuter Elliott if he came around again.”

  “He should have anyway,” Ros stated, her tone gaining heat. “He should have done something.”

  “Yeah, well...” Again, he glanced at Charlotte, then blew out a breath. “Honestly, it makes me nervous having someone at my back.”

  “Oh.” Once more the focus for everyone, she straightened away from the wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” He started to stand, but she quickly waved him back and moved more to his side. Now she could see all of his face—and he could see hers. “Is this better?”

  Reluctantly, he sank back into his seat.

  “If not, I could just go—”

  “I’d rather you stay.”

  Every gaze in the room fixated on him this time.

  As if he didn’t care, he quirked a smile. “I don’t mean to run you off. I’m just not used to sitting while a woman stands, and after prison—”

  “You’re a gentleman,” she said fast, not wanting him forced to explain himself. With a look at Brodie and Jack, she teasingly added, “Unlike some people I know.”

  “She rarely stays in one spot for long.” Brodie winked at her. “This is the longest, and it’s because of her curiosity about you.”

  “Brodie!”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “We’re all curious about him, Charlotte. Don’t screech.”

  Ohhh, when she got them alone, she’d...well, she didn’t know. But she’d think of something.

  Making a rewind gesture with her finger in the air, Ros said, “It’s not right that Elliott didn’t take care of you and your mother.

  “He never gave you jack-shit,” Brodie pointed out.

  “I didn’t need
it.” Ros looked at Mitch. “But his mother could have used money to—”

  “She would have fed her addiction with it. That is, if Newman let her have any, which is doubtful.” All seriousness now, he sat forward. “Giving my mom money would have been a pointless undertaking—worse than pointless because Newman would’ve used that money. I told Elliott so.”

  “So he’d offered?” Ros asked, slightly mollified.

  “We talked about it, yeah. He compromised and occasionally gave me cash instead.”

  “How much?” Ros demanded.

  For the longest time, Mitch just looked at his hand on Brute, rubbing over and around the dog’s ears, along his scruff and down his back. When he finally looked up, somber and sincere, Charlotte held her breath.

  She didn’t know what he would say, but she knew it was important.

  “The thing is, you’re pissed at him. I get that. Not every day a man shows up and says he’s a brother to your sons.” The smile he flashed held no humor. “But you have to understand... Elliott’s visits were a highlight for me. I don’t know how much he gave me, but it doesn’t matter.” With his gaze direct, he said, “It was more than I got anywhere else.”

  “Then he should have—”

  Cutting Ros off again, Mitch added, “I’m not mad about it. I’d rather you weren’t either.”

  She subsided, but then reached for his hand. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told my boys, okay? My relationship with Elliott is none of your business.”

  Those words, said in such a kind voice, startled Charlotte. Seemed they had the same effect on Mitch.

  Brodie and Jack just smiled.

  Apparently they’d heard this conversation more than once.

  “He was my husband. He gave me two sons. Cheated on me more than once. Let me down too many times to count.” She squeezed Mitch’s hand. “If I want to give him hell—and you can bet I do—then I will. It doesn’t affect your relationship with him any more than it affected Brodie’s or Jack’s.”

  Seconds ticked by before Mitch finally grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” With a final squeeze, Ros released him. “One more thing—no more ma’aming me. Just call me Ros. I feel like we’re already getting along.”