Sex Retreat(11)
“Hush now. Yes you can. Mitch would want us to take care of the property and give you time to nurse Claude back to good health.”
After their meeting with Mitch, he was one hundred percent certain Mitch wouldn’t want them anywhere near the place, which was all the more reason they were stopping over for a few nights. He wouldn’t think to look for them there.
“Mitch ought to get his little fanny back over there. A lot of kids had hoped he’d reopen the camp.” A heavy sigh filled the line. “He called, you know.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He wanted us to know he was out. Claude asked him if he planned to reopen the camp. He said he didn’t want to think about it. Makes me damn mad if you want the straight of it.” She clucked. “Have you heard from him?”
“I saw him yesterday, as a matter of fact.”
“You did?” Her excitement couldn’t be contained. “Well how is he? You tell him I asked about him when you talk to him again. Will you?”
Brock smiled to himself. Poor old Bertie. She could bitch about Mitch all day long, but down deep the woman loved him better than peaches on brownies.
“I will indeed,” Brock said, realizing he probably wouldn’t see him again until they returned from Abingdon.
He couldn’t help but feel a little sinister. He and Rory were taking Trixie to Cow Camp for a retreat, but they were running away from the man who owned the camp, a man who would sit in his hotel room and anticipate their return.
Yes, Cow Camp was the perfect place for them to go. Mitch would never think to look for them there and he wouldn’t return there himself because of the daunting cruel reminders of the past.
“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.