Natalie Acres (5 page)

“So you’ll take care of everything then?”

“I will,” Brock promised. “Tell Claude we hope he’s on his feet again soon.”

“I’ll do it,” Bertie promised. “And, Brock? I love ya. I’ve watched you and Rory become fine young men and hope to one day meet the little ones. You bring ’em to see us sometime in the future. Will you?”

“We will, Bertie.”

They said their good-byes, and Brock hurried through the house and secured the locks and turned out the lights. Before he shut the door, he glanced around at the spacious foyer, eyeing the ride-along toys parked next to the stairwell.

He and Rory had built a life there with Trixie. They had started their family. He’d be damned if he’d let Mitch Colony or anyone else threaten to destroy the happiness they shared.

No. It just wouldn’t happen. Not on his watch. Not on Rory’s. They protected what they cherished. They guarded what they loved.

Mitch might covet the woman they’d married, but he would not possess her. He could wish for the things that might have been, but he’d made his choices a long time ago. Now, Mitch Colony would have to live with them.

* * * *

Mitch threw a left hook into the wind. “Fuck you, Brock Sheldon! You hear me, you son of a bitch!”

Grabbing a rock from the flower bed, he propelled his arm behind him and yelled again. “Damn you, man! Do you really think you can keep her from me? Do you?”

“Well, obviously he can.”

Startled, Mitch jumped, quickly turning on the woman standing behind him. “What the hell?”

She looked like a throwback from yesteryear with her long blonde hair hanging in ringlets and the curls bouncing on her shoulders as she walked his way. “They aren’t here, Mitch.”

“Ansley?”

“Who else?” she asked, holding her arms out.

They embraced briefly, but she took a quick step back and said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where are they?”

Ansley thinned her lips.

“I need to see Trixie, Ansley. If you know where they are, you need to tell me.”

“I don’t
need
to do anything, but I really don’t know where they are.”

Lord. She was her sister made over.

“I don’t believe you. One Cartwell can’t go to the bathroom without another one nearby to hold the toilet paper.”

A smile lifted her lips. “I see you’re still as crude as what I remember.”

“And you’re all grown up and look like your sister.”

“That can’t be a bad thing.”

“Ansley. Help me. I need to talk to Trixie. Brock and Rory took her away for a reason.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “They took her on a retreat.”

“Where?” Mitch stalked her.

“I really don’t know.”

Before he thought better of it, he threw the rock at the porch. “Damn it to hell! I need to know!”

About that time, a man appeared out of nowhere, marching toward him as if he had one goal, a lone objective. Mitch wasn’t an idiot. This fellow’s brooding persona gave him away. He was obsessed with Ansley. He was, without a doubt, totally devoted to only one woman.

Mitch reached the conclusion because he was like him. He saw himself in the guy.

“What’s the problem here?”

Ansley shot him a wink. “Hi, baby.”

His lips twitched. “Who is this guy?”

“Meet Mitch Colony,” Ansley said, acting bored. “Mitch, meet Tristan Voorhees, my husband.”

“Your husband?”

“That’s right,” Ansley said, somewhat smug. “One of them anyway.”

“Cripes,” Mitch grumbled. “Is it hereditary?”

Tristan smirked, but his gaze held Mitch’s on a dare. “What do you need, Mr. Mitch Colony?”

“I’m looking for Trixie.”

“You must be the reason Brock took a last-minute vacation.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Hard to say,” Tristan replied. “What’d you need? I may speak with him a little later.”

“When will they be back?”

Tristan shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

“Are the kids with your parents?” Mitch asked, swinging his gaze to Ansley.

“Mitch, what exactly are you doing here?”

“I love your sister and I…well, I want to tell her.”

“I see,” she said, giving Tristan a quick glance. “Tristan, do you have the keys to the house on ya?”

“Yeah, I’ve got ’em.”

“Unlock the front door,” she said. “I want to show you something, Mitch. Come on.”

She led the way into the house with Mitch and Tristan on her heels. Mitch wasn’t sure of her purpose, but he had a feeling he’d soon find out.

They walked through a galley-style kitchen that led to a cozy den. She immediately took a sharp left and went upstairs. They then walked down a long hallway lined with framed family photographs. They passed several bedrooms before they finally came to two double doors with polished brass lever-style handles.

“Prepare yourself, Mr. Colony,” Ansley said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

She gave the doors a shove and opened up a magnificent bedroom, a suite Trixie obviously shared with Brock and Rory. These private quarters would soon be his as well, regardless of what Brock and Rory did to try and stop him.

“What’s your point?” Mitch asked, turning on Ansley.

She walked straight to the bookcase encasing the large flat-screen television. Once there, she collected several framed snapshots and a photo album.

Turning to him, she thrust her arms forward and said, “Here. Go on. Take them. I want you to see what you’re trying to disrupt.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Ansley. I don’t want to mess up things for Brock and Rory or Trixie for that matter.”

“I think you do,” Ansley said, persistently jabbing her arms forward.

Finally, Mitch took the pictures and sank to a bench located at the end of the bed. Setting aside the framed images, he opened the album.

Ansley leaned over his shoulder. “That’s their wedding day. Brock and Rory were so proud.”

Mitch stilled at the picture. Trixie looked so beautiful. Her golden hair was piled high on her head and ringlets framed her face. A fitted off-white gown was rather plain, but on Trixie’s body, the wedding dress looked elegant, absolutely divine.

He flipped several pages of wedding photos before he came to a large eight-by-ten photograph of Trixie in a hospital bed. Holding a baby in her arms, Trixie was surrounded by her family. Her sisters, her mother and fathers, and Brock and Rory were there.

“That’s Caz,” Ansley told him. “A few pages over are the pictures of Winter’s birth.”

“What’s your point?” Mitch bit out, angrily slamming the photo album and rising to his feet.

Ansley grabbed one of the snapshots and waved it in his face. “This is Trixie now. This is her family. This is her life.”

Mitch’s eyes burned as he looked at the image before him. Little Cazeron looked up at his mother with a big chocolate-covered smile spread across his face. Rory and Brock were standing on either side of Trixie and baby Winter was cradled in her arms.

His heart clenched. He was physically pained by what he saw, not because he felt as if he were a threat to the happiness displayed before him, but because he knew in his heart of hearts, he belonged in that painted picture of perfection. Trixie’s family was his family.

Why Brock and Rory couldn’t see he belonged with them was a question for which he’d soon demand answers. As soon as he found them, he’d make them understand. Surely they’d see what he easily noted in the pictures.

Trixie was satisfied, but she wasn’t as happy as she could be. There was something missing in her eyes, something significant. That something was him.

“Look a little closer, Ansley,” Mitch said steadily. “What you see is your sister. You see a woman with two men who love her. You don’t notice what is clearly absent.”

Without any reluctance whatsoever, he withdrew a picture from his jacket and tossed it to the bed. “That’s what your sister misses. I’m the void in her life.”

Ansley picked up the photograph and studied it before handing it back to him. “All I see are three men frolicking in the water with a young woman who looks like a tease.”

Mitch laughed as the memories came rolling back. She was a tease, until she wasn’t. Then Trixie became a saucy siren, a seductress to be reckoned with, and a woman who not only stole away with his heart, but took him on one hell of roller-coaster ride.

The ups and downs he’d endured were impossible to define. He’d served time in prison for her. He’d gone back to Jordie Anne in order to save her and the others from the disruption she might cause them, because he’d known—yes, he’d known all along—what Jordie Anne was potentially capable of destroying. He’d feared what Trixie might face, what kind of hell Jordie Anne might bring.

“I was desperate to protect her,” Mitch finally admitted.

Ansley narrowed her gaze. “Why?”

“Ansley, this is really between your sister and—”

“Why now, Mitch?” She waved her hand in front of the bookcase. “Years, Mitch. She has a history with Rory and Brock. They’ve started their family. Cazeron and Winter are happy children. This is the life they’ve created.” Her expression softened. “And as much as this hurts you, I have to say it, Mitch. This is the life they’ve created without you.”

“Ansley, it’s not our business,” Tristan said.

“Caz and Winter are my business,” she snapped, her eyes filling with tears.

Tristan gathered the photos and returned them to their respective shelves. Then he pointed at the door. “I think we should go. Brock and Rory wouldn’t appreciate this.”

“Yes, they would,” Ansley said, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “Wouldn’t they, Mitch?”

He snorted at that, fully understanding her underlying meaning. “You’re probably right.”

His gaze went to the king-size bed, and sadness washed over him as he thought of all the nights he’d missed. He considered the mornings, too, as he thought of how it might feel to wake up here in this room, wrapped around Trixie’s body, cradling her in his arms.

“I’ll give you credit, Ansley. You showed me precisely what Brock and Rory would’ve wanted me to see. Without a doubt, they’d be proud of you. You’ve done your job and served their purpose. I’ll leave.”

He’d almost made it to his vehicle when the screen door slammed behind him. “Mitch, wait.”

He stopped and turned around. “What is it?”

Ansley opened her mouth to speak, made a slight throaty sound, and then pressed her lips together again. They stared at one another for a long time before she finally said, “Okay, look, I don’t know where they are.”

“So you’ve said.”

“But…”

“You have a good idea where they might have gone?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m out of line here, but I feel like I’m sort of caught in the middle anyway. Trixie thought she was going crazy. She thought you had been here. She could’ve sworn she saw you a few times.”

“What did she say?” Mitch asked, uncertain why Ansley had chosen to share pertinent information before he left. Did she know something about Trixie’s feelings for him? Did Trixie still care for him? Had she discussed her feelings with Ansley?

“Damn it.” Ansley stomped her foot. “Okay, here’s the thing, buster, and you didn’t hear this from me. My sister still loves you. I know she still loves you.” Ansley’s gaze ripped through his. “But if you come in here and screw up her life, I’ll hold you personally accountable and make your life a living hell. And I can do it.” She shot Tristan a quick glance. “If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

“I won’t do that,” Mitch promised, believing Tristan was probably more in control than Ansley might have thought. He stood watch as if he were her lone protector, the only man who could indeed save her.

He’d met guys like Tristan. He’d gone up against a few. He recognized an Alpha male when he met one.

Mitch knew something about protecting those he loved and making sacrifices, too. He’d once walked away from Trixie in order to keep her safe. Now, he realized he’d made a mistake.

“If you talk to her…”

“I won’t,” Ansley said, seemingly certain. “Like I told you, Brock and Rory took her on a retreat.” She lowered her chin and then her voice. “If anyone talks to Brock, it will likely be Tristan. They’re as thick as thieves.”

Mitch glanced at Tristan, who then squared his shoulders and set his jaw. Mitch could see where Brock and Tristan were good buddies. They had compatible personalities and probably possessed a mutual respect for one another.

Mitch took a deep breath. He was barking up the wrong tree there. He’d just have to bide his time. With Jordie Anne gone and nothing left for him in Virginia, he could wait for them.

“Tristan, if you talk to Brock—”

“I’ll tell him you were here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Mitch grumbled. Finally, he added, “You tell him I’m not going anywhere. I won’t stop until I have fifteen minutes alone with Trixie.”