by Lori Foster
“A little soon,” Ros agreed lightly. “But I’m a good judge of character and I think you’re perfect for each other.”
When she retreated to drink more coffee, Charlotte gave voice to the rest of her concerns. “He hasn’t said much about it, but it breaks my heart to imagine what he’s gone through. Not just his home life—or lack of one—but prison?” The awfulness of it tightened her throat. “He spent five years locked away.”
For a moment, Ros was quiet—then she thunked down her cup and scowled. “It makes me so damn mad. If Elliott hadn’t—”
“Ros,” Charlotte said gently. “Don’t do that, okay?”
“I can’t help but be furious.”
“I know. I am too. But Mitch doesn’t blame Elliott and yesterday, I could see how uneasy it made him, having everyone mad. He wants to be a part of a happy family, not one that’s divided.”
Ros snorted. “Honey, it’s not like Elliott and I will ever get back together.”
“I realize that, and I think Mitch does too. He’s not a little kid wishing for crazy things.”
“No,” she murmured, letting the truth settle in. “He’s a strong, independent, capable man—who’s been terribly hurt far too many times.”
Exactly. “I know it’s asking a lot, but could you go back to treating Elliott the way you did before you met Mitch? I think that’s what he wants. Elliott told him a lot about you, and knowing him as we all do, he was probably upfront about his own lacks—and the fact that you forgave him enough to get along. Not as husband and wife, but as mother and father. I think it would help him.”
Pained, Ros whispered, “Oh, how I wish I was that young man’s mother. I would have protected him.”
“It’s not too late to start.” This was the tricky part, getting Ros to understand without inadvertently hurting her feelings. She might come off as a woman of steel, but underneath it all Ros was as tenderhearted as they came.
With her head propped on a fist, her elbow resting on the table, Charlotte smiled and explained, “You’ve been my mother for quite a few years now, and I love you for it. You could do the same for Mitch.”
“Oh, honey.” Finishing off her coffee in a rush, Ros left her seat to embrace Charlotte tightly. “This is why you’re so wonderful. Believe me, loving you has been my pleasure. Not to detract from your mother in any way, I swear, but you are my daughter, in my heart and in my head, whether you have my blood or not.”
A quiet knock on the door had them pulling apart. Both women hastily dabbed at their eyes, then laughed at each other and hugged again, a different type of hug this time.
Charlotte saw Mitch watching through the kitchen door window, a tender smile on his face, as if he already knew what they’d been discussing and found it touching.
Beyond him, Elliott looked around, trying to avoid Ros’s scrutiny.
Hopefully Ros would remember what they’d just discussed.
When Charlotte opened the door, Mitch leaned in and kissed her first, a soft smooch of familiarity—because now they were “a thing.” He claimed his pursuit all bold and macho, and even as an independent, intelligent woman, it thrilled her.
“Good morning,” she said.
“It is now.” Holding her back, he let his gaze move over her with appreciation. “You’re beautiful.”
Stupidly, she blurted, “I did a little more than my usual.”
His smile went crooked. “Yeah?”
“For you, I mean.”
That earned a soft laugh. “I’m flattered.”
As a reminder that they stood in the doorway with her inside and Elliott out, Ros cleared her throat loudly.
Unfazed, Mitch stepped in, his arm around her shoulders. “Good morning, Ros.”
“Good morning. Coffee?”
“Thank you, but I’ll pass. I figured Charlotte and I would take off, give us plenty of time to visit before she has to clock in.”
Pretending to tell a secret, Ros leaned in. “Psst. She doesn’t have a set schedule. Keep her as long as you like.”
“Ros!” Laughing, Charlotte shook her head. “I can show up a few minutes late, but any more than that and I’ll have work piled up to my ears.”
It was new, the way Mitch watched her. Sort of possessive and hungry, but also affectionate.
Because it flustered her, she turned to Elliott. “How about you? Do you want some coffee?”
His eyes, caramel colored like Mitch’s, watched Ros warily. “I wouldn’t mind a cup, that is, if Ros can spare a few minutes.”
Her smile looked carved in stone, but Ros got it out there. “Sure, come on in. Do you still take it the same?”
Surprised by her acceptance, Elliott sauntered in and took a seat at the table. “Black, hot and with good company.”
“You’ll have to settle for black and hot.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Ros sent a guilty look toward Mitch. “You two, go ahead and take off. Elliott can hang around until Grant gets here to escort me to work.”
Mitch glanced at Elliott, then Ros. “You don’t mind?”
Obviously, he hadn’t expected Elliott to trail him to the house, and felt a little guilty about bringing him uninvited into Ros’s kitchen.
“No, honey. I don’t mind at all. Elliott and I have some things to talk about anyway.” She hugged Charlotte before doing the same with Mitch.
This time he didn’t go as stiff, and actually let his arms close around Ros for two heartbeats.
Beaming with pleasure, Ros stepped back and shooed them away. “Go on then. Have fun, but be careful.”
“I’ll get her from work too,” he offered. “That is, if Charlotte doesn’t mind?”
“She doesn’t,” Ros said before Charlotte could even blink. “In fact, why don’t you join us for dinner? I’ll cook something special.”
“Ros is an amazing cook,” Elliott verified. “You don’t want to miss that.”
In her efforts to ignore him, Ros went laughably still and stiff, a pleasant smile frozen on her face.
“I’ve had the pleasure,” Mitch said. He hesitated before adding, “Actually, though, I was going to invite Charlotte to my house for dinner.”
Wanting him to know she was entirely on board with that idea, Charlotte blurted, “I’d love to,” before Ros could offer her up again.
Elliott winked. “In that case, I’ll make myself scarce.”
Ros slowly turned. “What does that mean?”
“Uh...see...”
“I invited him to stay with me.” Defiant but firm, Mitch met her astonished gaze. “I’m not using the bedroom anyway, and you fixed it up so nice—”
“Ros fixed it up?” Sitting back in lazy satisfaction, Elliott smiled. “I thought it had her touch.”
“You...” Remembering her promise at the last second, Ros forced her mouth into a strained smile. “Will join the boys and me for dinner.”
“Really?” Surprise brought him forward in his seat again. “Hot damn. Thanks, honey.”
Teeth locked, Ros opened the kitchen door, making it clear that this was the perfect time for them to make a hasty getaway. “Have fun.”
The second they cleared the doorway, Ros closed the door. Half smiling, Mitch took her hand and led her to his car with the broken window now covered in plastic.
“Will there be bloodshed?” he asked, tipping his head back toward the house.
“Not a drop. I promise.” At least she hoped the two of them would behave. Elliott could be awfully provoking, and Ros wasn’t a woman to suffer nonsense.
“Good.” Caging her against the passenger’s door, Mitch looked at her mouth. “Because I’d rather concentrate on you.”
Charlotte had no problem at all with that plan.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SECOND THEY heard the car pull away, Elliott held up h
is hands in a protective gesture. “How pissed are you? Should I run?”
Given her performance the other night, Ros didn’t blame him for being wary. If she’d had a big stick then, she would have used it on him.
Now, though, with Charlotte’s reminder in her head, she kept her cool. Actually, he looked so cautious, she almost laughed.
It was hard to demolish a man who made you smile at the worst of times.
That was always the problem with Elliott. He made her cry when few others could—but he also made her laugh harder than she did with anyone else. He’d shown her the greatest, most encompassing love, but also crushed her heart. He was never around, yet she knew she could count on him in a crisis.
He’d do whatever he could for her...and then he’d take off again.
Long ago she’d learned that Elliott’s struggles were his own, and her happiness didn’t depend on him. Still, it saddened her—for him. Since he was unable to commit to anything or anyone for long, she didn’t think he’d ever truly be happy.
Yes, very sad indeed.
“You’re looking at me with sympathy. Does that mean you plan to kill me off? Honest, honey, I won’t fight you—but I’d rather not die today.”
There was no point telling him her thoughts; she’d done that before and it hadn’t mattered.
So she played it off, slapping his shoulder and giving in to a laugh. “You’re terrible, but I have to admit, I’m glad he didn’t stay out there alone last night.”
“Near enough,” Elliott said, folding his arms on the table and studying her in that intense way he had that made her feel sexy and more like a woman than she did at any other time.
“What does that mean?” After refilling her own cup, she sat across from him, careful to avoid touching his big feet under the table. On Elliott, everything was big—and in her youth, that had often been her downfall. Together, they could burn down the roof. Oh, how she’d loved his big body and the way he used it when pleasuring her.
“He slept alone, honey. Out in a tent, I mean.” Visibly perturbed by that, Elliott toyed with his cup. “I tried to get him to take the bedroom, but he was clear about sleeping outside with his dog.”
“So you took the bed?”
“No, that was too far away. I squeezed onto that damned short couch in the screened patio. Trust me on this, it was not meant for a man of my size.”
Ignoring most of that, Ros said, “I wondered about the tent. Do you think it was his time in prison?”
“Probably. He told me a little about it. Just the basics, ya know?” His hand knotted into a still credible fist. “I failed him in every way possible.”
“Yup.” She wasn’t about to sugarcoat the truth just to soothe his conscience. Softer, she added, “If only you’d brought him to me.”
“I know.” Full of guilt, he met her accusing gaze. “I really did consider it, even talked to Velma about it. I didn’t want to go on in front of Mitch, but she flat-out refused. Made no sense. Wasn’t like she could care for him the way he needed—at least not that she showed. But she said she’d come after me, and I couldn’t see bringing that much trouble to your door.”
“Elliott.” Over the years, they’d had similar conversations so many times that it almost felt like a waste of her breath. “You should have taken him yourself, then, and let the trouble come to your own door.”
“I know. You’re right.” He sat back with a sad smile. “This is like old times. Me fucking up, you calling me on it.”
“The big difference is that I gave up on you ever changing when you hit forty. Now when I bitch, it’s just to vent, not because I think it’ll make a difference.”
“Maybe one small difference.” He lifted his hip and drew a wallet from his back pocket, opening it and pulling out a check. For a moment he just fingered the paper, then finally put it on the table and slid it toward her.
“What’s this?” Confused by the gesture, Ros picked it up, staggered to see it was made out to her—for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Her heart hit her feet with true alarm. “What did you do? Did you rob a bank?”
The accusation widened his eyes, but then he gave a gruff laugh. “That’s actually as plausible as the truth.”
Slapping the check down, she glared at him. “Which is?”
Uncomfortable, he rubbed his chin, scratched at his ear. “See, this nice gal I was seeing had an elderly neighbor. She was out cutting her grass one day and I felt bad for her so I went over and finished it up. It was odd, but we fell into a pattern. Even after Tracy and I stopped seeing each other, I went over there to check on the old gal.”
“Cutting grass once, I can believe. You were never afraid of work.” Still reeling from the size of that check, Ros drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “It was the responsibility and routine that made you break out in hives.”
He didn’t deny the truth. “The thing is, Jean appreciated me. And she respected me, even when she shouldn’t have. It didn’t matter if a month went by without me seeing her, when I thought of her and dropped in she’d insist on making dinner and she’d trail me when I did repairs to her house.”
Ros’s brows climbed all the way to her hairline. “You did her repairs?”
“Little things. Leaky sink, broken porch swing.” Honest embarrassment made him duck his face. “Re-shingled her roof once.”
Not a single word came to mind so Ros just sat in stupefied fascination and listened.
“I’d take her grocery shopping and she’d hang on my arm and tell me what an amazing young man I was.” His short chuckle sounded of both discomfort and pleasure. “I, um, I found out she didn’t go to the grocery store anymore, so when I didn’t come by, she sometimes did without. That bothered me so I started coming around more often.”
Unbelievable. “And somewhere within this incredible story, you managed to profit?”
Color slashed his cheekbones. “I don’t blame you for thinking the worst. You sure as hell have every right and the truth is pretty damned bizarre.”
Ros propped her head on her fist. “I’m all ears.”
He shot her a disgruntled frown. “Jean didn’t have anyone else. I didn’t know that either. I figured her family just neglected her. God knows I understand that, since I’d always neglected you and our sons.”
“No argument from me.”
“Yeah, well...” He shifted. “Meeting her got me thinking about how I’d be alone and neglected—because I’d never given anyone reason to care. I can’t change that now. You, Jack and Brodie don’t need me. But Jean did, so I stuck around and kept her company and...enjoyed being useful for a change.”
Discomfort began to crowd out Ros’s resentment. Elliott didn’t have to say it, because she could see he was hurting. Yes, it was a pain of his own making, but as she’d always told the boys, Elliott was who he was, and they could either accept him and get on with their lives peacefully, or despise him and let his derelict ways continue to hurt.
For the most part, they’d chosen peace.
And she’d done her utmost to ensure they never felt the loss.
“The thing is,” he continued, “when she passed away, I found out she’d written a will and left everything to me. I thought that meant her old house and whatever car she had out in her barn. She’d told me it was old and didn’t think it would run anymore, so I just drove her where she needed to go. I figured it was an ancient Buick or something. Typical old-person’s car, you know?” He looked down at his coffee, stirring the top with his fingertip. “Her tiny little house sold real fast for twenty-two grand. I used part of that to give her a real nice funeral. Her car though...” His gaze lifted to hers. “Turned out it was a ’68 Shelby GT500—and it sold for a hundred and twenty Gs at auction. I’m keeping the rest from the house to eventually replace my own car, but the Shelby... I want you to have it.”
Wh
at in the world would she do with that kind of money? Protests mounted—
He cut her off before she got a single word out. “It won’t make up for the past. I know that. And I swear to God, Ros, I’m not trying to buy you or anything.”
“So what are you trying to do?” For sure, it wasn’t the usual. Not with a gesture this grand.
“I...” He rubbed at his neck. “Look, we both know I was never going to hold down a job long enough to give you everything you deserve. To repay you for all you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” It wouldn’t kill him to spell it out.
Knowing it was what she wanted, he smiled. Elliott always knew her—and sometimes it unnerved her.
“We have very fine sons.”
“We do.”
All too serious, he said, “They got their height and physical strength from me.”
As well as their good looks.
“But every other fine quality came straight from you. Their guts, caring, compassion and backbone...that’s all you, honey, and we both know it. You’re a natural-born leader and it’s because of you that my sons turned out the same, and that I’m so damn proud of them.”
“I love them,” she replied, then pointed out, “And I never asked for payment.” Chasing Elliott for child support would have been a lesson in frustration. He handed over money when he had it, but far too often, he had nothing at all.
“I know it, and I know why. You could have had my ass thrown in jail. You could have turned the boys against me. You could have...well, hated me and kicked me from your lives. I’m glad you’re not made that way. It’s coming late. Too damn late for forgiveness. But I appreciate you, I always have.”
Agog at that ridiculous declaration, she laughed. “You took me for granted.”
“I know it looked that way.” Staring into his coffee, his voice lowered. “I used to thank God that you were a better person than me.” When he glanced up, his eyes were a little glassy. “Take the check, honey. It’s a sliver of all I owe you, but it’s all I have to give.”
Because he’d never give himself. Not his time, not his...love.