by Kit Rocha
Things changed so quickly. For good. For bad.
A warm gentle touch connected with his cheek as she turned his head until he was staring into her pale blue eyes. "You've gone far away," Anna said softly.
"Worried about my sister," he admitted.
"Ahhh." She cupped his face. "Any change since the accident?"
He shook his head. Katy had slid off the road a couple weeks earlier, and while she hadn't been seriously hurt, she'd gotten a head injury. "Saw her yesterday at the family dinner. She's doing okay, but the doctors still don't know what's up with her memory."
"They'll figure it out," Anna assured him.
Mitch hoped so, only it was another thing that haunted him. "I hate how little control we have at times. One minute she was fine, the next, Katy's lost parts of her past--all vanished in a flash. Made me think of my mom passing away years ago. Seemed like it was only a few days between finding out she was sick and her being gone."
Control. He wanted it. Needed it, and yet right there with Anna looking up at him with sorrow in her eyes, it was clear that there were so many things he had no influence over.
Anna kissed him again, softer this time, brushing away some of his frustrations. Bringing him back to the things that were good, and that he could control.
The stars were out by the time he turned down the long driveway leading into the trees and his home.
He parked the bike, hauling off his helmet and loving how she right away stepped back into his personal space. "I didn't ask if you wanted me to take you home."
Anna shook her head, following him inside and hanging up her borrowed helmet. "This is exactly where I wanted to end up. Well, almost exactly."
She caught him by the hand and pulled him into the living room. One more tug brought him to a seated position on the couch where she proceeded to crawl on top of him, knees straddling his thighs, her jacket carelessly abandoned beside them.
Anna caught him by the chin, staring him down. "I've been wanting to do this all night long."
She cupped his face softly.
"You've kissed me plenty tonight," Mitch teased, uncertain where she was going with this.
Her head tilted slightly, eyes sparkling in the faint light. "Not just a kiss. My turn to give to you. All of it, everything you need."
"I don't get any choice in what you do?" Mitch's voice didn't sound right, even to him. There was such tenderness in her touch it was making strange emotions flood his system.
He'd fallen in love with her passion, but this side of her--the slow-moving, gentle kisses she was pressing against his lips, his jaw, his neck--he could take this as well with no complaints.
She leaned against his body, sneaking her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck as she kissed her way to his ear. When she whispered, a shiver rolled over his skin.
"You get a choice. You get to choose to enjoy every minute."
Mitch helped her take off his shirt. She traced her fingers over his tats, the teasing touch followed a moment later by her tongue. His vision went dark when she reached his abdomen. He must have helped her, but the actual details were lost as to how he now sat bare-ass naked on the couch, his jeans tangled around his ankles because all he could focus on--
Anna's hot mouth on his cock.
Her tongue twirled around his piercings, the sensation all the more intense in the sensitive area. Wetness coated him, her strong fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft as she slipped between his knees and grinned up at him.
"Hell, babe, you have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered, stroking her hair off her forehead.
She didn't answer with words. Just leaned forward and put those incredible lips to his cock again. Pushed down and enveloped him with heat and pleasure. And when she pulled back, mouth tight as she sucked, Mitch gave himself over to the hedonism of the act. She wanted to blow his mind?
Game on.
He wrapped her long hair around his fingers, this time not to control her but because he couldn't resist. Her head rose and fell in his lap, and he groaned as the tingling urgency in his balls increased so rapidly he knew he was gonna spill before he'd had a chance to really enjoy himself.
"God, you're killing me."
Anna hummed happily, her fingers slipping down to his balls. She added a twist with her tongue, and between the vibration and the extra pressure, he lost it. Stars formed in front of his eyes as he emptied, semen coating her tongue, spraying over her lips and cheeks as she pulled back. She pumped him as he came, new strands flying out to land on her neck and cleavage, and goddamn if his cock didn't jerk again at the sight.
Mitch collapsed against the couch, a pleasant buzz wracking his body, but it hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. He somehow found the energy to lean forward and pull her into his lap. One more move and he'd snatched up his T-shirt so he could wipe her grinning face clean.
"You look awfully pleased with yourself," he noted.
"That was fun." She eased against him, relaxed and soft, which was nice, but if she thought they'd reached the cuddling portion of the evening, she had another think coming.
"That was just the beginning," he warned.
Her eyes widened, and the mischief returned. "You ready for more so soon?"
"I'm always ready for more of you."
She shouted in surprise as he rose, cradling her to his chest. Her protests changed to laughter as he was forced to pigeon-step his way down the hall until he got his jeans kicked off, finally lofting her toward his bed and diving after her.
Hours later Anna smiled up at him, her hair tangled, a sheen of sweat on her skin. Sated and glowing and looking so damn content. He'd done that for her, and the idea pleased him far too much.
She curled against his naked torso, tucking her head under his chin. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mitch," she breathed with a happy sigh.
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.
Chapter Six
Mitch pulled into his parking spot behind the family garage, blinking wearily as he made his way through the man-door that led to the main work area of Thompson and Sons. Anna had surprised him by crawling into his bed at five a.m. when she'd finished her shift, and there hadn't been a lot of sleep from that moment to now.
His body was satisfied, but his brain needed a gallon of coffee to lose the fuzz.
"Finally," Clay grumbled. "Nice of you to show up."
"It's like ten after seven. Don't be an ass," Mitch sniped back at his older brother as he grabbed a coverall from the shelf.
"Don't bother getting changed." Clay lofted a set of keys his direction. "We need to clear out a few of the older wrecks from the back lot, and you lost the toss."
Shit. Last thing he wanted to do today was haul a trailer full of cars down the icy winter roads all the way to their parts buyer in Calgary. Anna had the next twenty-four hours off, and he'd hoped to cut out of work early to spend time with her after she woke from her nap. "How can I lose the toss when I wasn't even here?" Mitch gave his youngest brother Troy the evil eye. "You bastard."
"You snooze, you lose," Troy taunted. He ran a hand through his dark hair and grinned wildly. "It was between you and Len, actually, but he got in three minutes before you."
The joys of working with family. "Fine. Is the truck ready?"
Clay shook his head. "Len went to hook up the trailer. Grab the manifest from Katy, and we'll get the last of them loaded."
He winked before turning away, and Mitch lost some of his irritation. It wasn't a big deal--he'd handle the change in plans. His brothers weren't that difficult to work with.
In fact, as he took the steps to the office area two at time, his good mood rapidly returned. He paused at the top of the landing to glance back into the work bay. Clay was ushering Troy out one of the oversized garage doors, the rear of the massive trailer moving into sight outside the building. Len joined them, and all three began pointing animatedly around the snow-filled yard at which cars needed to be loaded. Even from his perch, th
e good-natured banter between them was audible. The kind of noise and confusion only siblings would put up with.
They'd gone through a lot together, him and his family. After losing their mom when Mitch had barely turned sixteen, they'd dealt with whatever life tossed them together, and he was grateful.
The red flames on his wrists and arms were a reminder they didn't all cope the same way, but overall they'd always been there for each other. There was no doubt about that.
He turned toward the office door, stopping in his tracks to watch through the window. His dad was explaining something to Katy who wore an expression of sheer frustration.
It was another thing they'd get through as a family. The only visible sign that remained of his baby sister's accident was that her long hair had been shaved to allow for testing, and only a thin layer had regrown since. The lingering nonvisible results were far worse than her buzz cut.
He entered the office.
"You don't need to do math, Katy. Just put the numbers from the receipt into the boxes, and the program calculates them for you." Keith Thompson squeezed his daughter's shoulder. "I can show you again."
She shook her head and waved him off. "No, you have things to do. I'll figure it out."
Keith turned wearily to the door. "If you're sure."
"Dad, stop it. I'm good. Get out and let me do my job." Only Katy's smile melted far too quickly when their father finally left. She lifted tired eyes to Mitch's. "If you want anything to do with numbers, I'll warn you, I might scream."
"Oh, Katy." Mitch crossed the room and offered a hug.
She squeezed him gratefully for a moment before pushing him away. A quick wipe at her eyes cleared away the couple of tears that had escaped, and she put on a smile again. "Who knew that I'd have to repeat second-grade math at my age?"
"Stop it," Mitch soothed. "Accidents happen. You're doing the best you can, and you're getting better."
She shrugged. "Feels a lot like I'm spinning my wheels." Katy made a face as she rubbed her stomach. "And I think I'm coming down with something, which isn't helping."
Mitch sat on the desk and glanced at the mess of papers scattered over the usually pristine surface. "I'm supposed to get the transport manifest from you so I can do the car drop this morning."
Katy nodded. "It's here somewhere." She scrambled through the mess and pulled out a set of papers. "I did them up last night. All the VINs, the bills of sales." She shoved everything into an oversized envelope. "Oh, wait. There was one more..."
She twirled and dug in a desk drawer. Mitch poured himself a coffee while he waited, filling the largest travel mug in the office. "You need me to pick up anything while I'm in Calgary?" he asked.
Her eyes widened, and this time her smile was real. "Seriously? Would you stop by the craft shop and grab me a package? I ordered it online, but forgot to hit the 'deliver to residence' option. It's sitting at the north Michaels store."
Mitch shoved the envelope she handed him under his arm so he could use his free hand to ruffle what little had grown back of her hair. "No problem. Give me the receipt."
It took her another fifteen minutes to track that down, long enough for him to help load the final vehicles on the transport.
"Try not to get pulled over for speeding," Troy teased.
Mitch resisted mentioning his favourite cop was currently passed out naked in his bed. He hadn't made a big deal yet about the fact he was dating Anna. Len knew, and maybe Clay, but Troy didn't always spot what was going on right under his nose. "I'll ignore that you just tried to give me driving advice. It took you how many attempts to get your learner's, baby bro?"
"Butt out, butthead."
Len snickered. "Be thankful he finally passed when he did. Meant we didn't have to drive him around and watch all his boring football games anymore."
Mitch left them still taunting each other about some past wrongs.
If one of his coping strategies had been to tattoo reminders into his skin, each of his brothers had taken a different path over the years. Troy had gotten lost in sports. Len had gone quiet, vanishing at times in a rather astonishing way for someone of his size.
Clay? Had gone overprotective.
"You got everything?" Clay stuck his head in the passenger door and started going through the glove box. "Registration and insurance are--"
"--in the same place we've always kept them. Stop it. I don't need two fathers."
Clay's frown didn't fade completely. "Sorry. Just worried."
Mitch understood his brother's fears, but no way in hell was he going to take being babied, let alone by someone barely a year older than him. "I'm not going off the road, and no one else is going to get hurt. Relax, you're driving me crazy. I can only imagine how much you're pissing Katy off acting like a mother hen."
"I should have..." Clay backed up and backed down. "Fine. I'll lay off for now. Say hi to Denis for me."
Mitch pulled out of the yard, soothed by the power of the enormous car-hauler under his control. He cranked up the music and hit the highway, settling in for the two-hour drive.
His thoughts wandered from Anna, to his family and back to Anna far too quickly. He was growing more certain what he and Anna had was more than explosive chemistry. They fit.
He would take her showing up at his house this morning as a positive sign she was thinking that way about him as well.
Dirty daydreams about her entertained him the entire trip, and he'd bet money there was a foolish grin pasted on his face as he pulled into the craft-shop parking lot to nab Katy's order. He tossed the box on the passenger seat then drove the final fifteen minutes to the salvage yard they'd worked with for years.
For the first time ever a gate blocked the entrance.
"Bullshit on that." Mitch laid on the horn. If he dropped the load in the next half an hour, he might be able to sneak home and catch Anna still sleeping. He could think of all sorts of interesting ways to wake her up.
He was pleased to see someone pop out immediately from the nearby Quonset. The man hurried over and pulled the gate aside, gesturing for Mitch to drive around the side of the oversized metal building.
Another man appeared, hands waving rapidly as he directed Mitch in pulling his big rig around the tight corner. "Jeez. I liked the old setup better," Mitch muttered.
He rolled down the window to give Denis hell, but a man with an unfamiliar face strode to the driver side.
"The changes make it hell to drop off shit. What was wrong with having the delivery doors in the front?" Mitch leaned out the window to eye the torturous back-up job he was going to have to do to get free.
"Yeah, right." The other guy laughed as if Mitch had told the most hilarious joke. "Drop them in the front yard. Good one."
Mitch didn't bother to hide his lack of amusement. "Where's Denis?"
The guy jerked a thumb toward a small ATCO trailer.
The back of the trailer was already down, the first cars being driven out, hitches in place to drag the dead vehicle carcasses out last. Mitch ignored the sudden buzz of workers swarming the place and carried the envelope Katy had given him into the office.
Conversation cut off completely as he stepped through the door, a half a dozen faces twisted his way. All of them stern and forbidding. He searched the room until he spotted Denis.
"Hey," Denis called, rapidly stepping forward. "Thompson and Sons. Good to see you again."
Mitch didn't waste his breath complaining. Just held out the envelope Katy had prepped. They'd been bringing stock to this yard for years, but his father's standard offer came out reluctantly--Mitch didn't like how this entire situation felt. And it wasn't only that everyone in the office was staring at him as if he were the main event at a circus. "You want us to send an invoice?"
"Cash is fine. Let me--"
An alarm sounded, and the silent crowd vanished, chairs overturned as they shoved past Mitch, or raced out the emergency exit at the back of the trailer.
Denis's face had
gone a pasty white. He ignored Mitch and ducked behind his desk, snatching up a sack and frantically shoving papers off his desk into it.
Mitch's bad feeling spiked, and he backed toward the main exit. Screw getting their money--
The metal door behind him burst open, slamming into the wall. The order rang out, loud and clear. "Don't anyone move."
Uniformed police poured into the office. Through the window more bodies were visible sweeping into the yard and up to the open back doors of the Quonset.
Fuck. Mitch froze, thankful his hands were empty and in the open. "I'm just here dropping off a shipment."
One of the officers approached him slowly. "Right. That's a likely story."
This was going from bad to worse. "I work at Thompson and Sons garage in Rocky Mountain House." Mitch spoke softly and as calmly as he could under the circumstance. "That's my truck out there. I was doing a routine parts drop. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
There were two of them beside him now, examining him closely as more men pushed past. A loud shout rang out, and he pivoted in time to see Denis make a break for the backdoor before being tumbled to the ground by his pursuers.
God, this was not going to end well at all.
One of the officers beside him caught hold of his arm, pulling it back. Mitch didn't resist, but a cringe shook him as cool metal loops closed around one wrist, then the other, pinning his arms behind him. "Looks like I drove into something I didn't intend to," Mitch insisted. "On the desk. Transport papers for all the vehicles I brought. Bills of sale--it's all there, I swear."
"Don't move," the older officer in front of him warned, the nametag on his uniform spelling MACKIE in bold black letters. "Greyson, check out his story."
"Company name is on the side door of the truck. My name is Mitch Thompson, and I have no idea what's going on." Other than his arms already going numb from the awkward position.
Greyson held up the envelope Denis had abandoned. "This one?"
Mitch nodded.