The line went dead and Mitch hung up the phone.
“So here we go,” Mitch muttered.
This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined reuniting with Trixie, but maybe it was for the best all things considered. At one time, Brock Sheldon and Rory Matthews had been his closest friends. The three of them had been like brothers.
Together, Brock and Rory had built a good life with Trixie. From what he’d seen, they were still head-over-heels in love with her.
What were the chances they’d allow him to reunite with their wife? Would they ever forgive him for what he’d done? Did they blame him because Jordie Anne came into their lives and threatened to destroy their family?
He knew the answer to all those questions. Jordie wouldn’t have known about the Cartwells at all if he hadn’t trusted her, if he hadn’t confided in her.
Come to think of it? If the shoes were on his feet, he’d tell Brock and Rory to fuck off. He had a feeling, based on Brock’s tone and the fact he didn’t seem interested in small talk, he was about to receive an offer for a large sum of money. They would tell him to hit the road and never look back.
The Cartwells and their significant others had a reputation of paying off troublesome people with life-changing sums. Mitch didn’t want their money. He didn’t need it.
Brock and Rory were about to discover that Mitch couldn’t be bought at any price.
Chapter One
“Good night, Momma. Good night, Daddy Rory. Good night, Daddy Brock. Goodnight, wittle sister.” Cazeron held his new microphone close to his lips. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite you in the ass tonight.”
“Caz!” Trixie leapt from her chair and rushed the small boy. “Where on earth did you hear such language?”
Cazeron ducked his head. Rory smirked and walked away. Brock saw where this was leading. Apparently, Rory had long since decided Brock would be the disciplinarian.
“Caz?” Brock tried to keep his voice firm and level. “Where’d you hear the word ‘ass’?”
“I don’t know, Daddy.” Caz kept his head bowed. He stuck his tiny hands in his pockets. “I can’t wreally wremember.”
Brock squatted in front of his son. “Caz, we talked about this once before. You can’t say words unless you know what they mean and you don’t repeat words unless you remember where you first heard them.”
Rory stood at the corner bar. He rested his elbow on the walnut wood while quietly observing. The amusement danced all over his expression. He was undoubtedly struggling to keep his laughter at bay.
“I wreally think it was Uncle Tristan, Daddy. He has a bad word problem. Ask Momma.”
Trixie grabbed his hand. “Shame on you, Cazeron! You know better than to accuse your Uncle Tristan.”
Brock stopped her before she took off to Caz’s room, towing the little boy to bed. “You’re sure it was Uncle Tristan, Cazeron?”
“Uh-huh, Daddy Brock. It was. I’m sure about that.” He nodded his head up and down as tears welled in his eyes. The little guy couldn’t stand reprimand. “It wasn’t Aunt Ansley. No, sir. Aunt Ansley couldn’t say a bad word. It was Uncle Tristan for sure.”
“Is that right?” Brock asked, standing from his stooped position.
“All right, Caz. Let’s go.” Rory cleared his throat and intervened by gathering Cazeron in his arms. “What do you say we have a powwow, champ? Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir,” Caz replied, shooting his mother a smile. “Good night, Momma. Daddy Rory will tuck me in. Okay, Momma?”
Trixie tilted his small chin toward hers. “You’re still in trouble, little guy.”
Caz faked a yawn. “I know, Momma, and I’ll never say the word again.”
“I bet,” Trixie grumbled as Rory carried him away.
“You talk to Ansley or I will,” Brock said after Rory and Cazeron disappeared upstairs. “He can’t start using foul language all the time.”
“You heard Caz,” Trixie teased. “Uncle Tristan is responsible.”
“Uncle Tristan my ass,” Brock grumbled.
Trixie arched a brow.
“Don’t look at me that way. I control my tongue in front of our children. And your sister has our son wrapped around her little finger. Last week he told me he is moving in with Aunt Ansley. That was after he told me that somebody on television ‘screwed like bunnies.’ Next thing you know, the f-bomb will drop and he’ll be expelled from kindergarten.”
“I’ll tell her to keep a lid on it when Caz is around,” Trixie promised, her eyes twinkling. “And I’ll make sure she passes the news on to Tristan as well.”