“He’ll love that.” Brock shook his head. “He’s so crazy about your sister, he’ll take the blame to keep her from facing my wrath.”
Trixie shuddered. “Oh I know. You’re so terrifying.”
“Smartass.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.
Trixie squirmed in his arms and glanced nervously at the window. “The curtains are open for crying out loud.”
Brock stared down the bridge of his nose. “Since when are you modest?”
“Really,” Rory said, rejoining them. “There was a time when you were our little exhibitionist.”
“Pre-kids, I had a great body to flaunt, too.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you still have all the curves in just the right places,” Brock assured her, kissing her neck and sliding his lips to her ear. “Want me to show you how much I love those curves, baby?”
“You’d need a compass to find everything now. There’s too much flab to maneuver around.”
“Don’t do that,” Brock said, releasing her ponytail holder and raking his fingers through her hair. “You’re perfect.”
“And don’t get me all worked up,” she warned him, pointing at Winter’s playpen. “Your daughter is right here.”
“She isn’t even a year old,” Brock reminded her. “I promise she won’t care if her mother and father kiss and hug.”
“She’s too interested in her new rattle,” Rory said. “She isn’t paying attention to the two of you.”
“Exactly.” Brock pursued Trixie again. “What do you say we go upstairs and let Rory watch the baby?”
“Rory didn’t volunteer to Winter-watch,” Rory reminded them, tilting his head toward the mantel clock and locking gazes with Brock.
Trixie frowned. “Got somewhere you need to be, fellas?”
“Yes,” Rory replied, still focusing on Brock. “I thought you had discussed this with her.”
“Discuss what?” Trixie’s gaze jumped between Rory and Brock.
“We have some business to take care of,” Brock replied, using the time as a scapegoat. “When, we get home, we’ll tell you all about it. Right, Rory?”
“Tell me now,” Trixie suggested. “We don’t keep secrets. Remember?”
“We’ll sit down and talk once we have more information,” Brock promised.
“This has something to do with Mitch. Doesn’t it?”
“Why would you say that?” Brock asked, turning on her quicker than he would’ve liked.
“Just a gut feeling.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Brock said, wondering now if she’d seen Mitch and failed to mention the fact.
“Trixie, have you been holding out on us?” Rory asked. “Is there something you aren’t telling us?”
“I…thought I saw him.”
“Here?” Rory asked. “When?”
“Why didn’t you mention it?” Brock asked, catching a quick glance from Rory. Yes, he realized he had double standards, but Trixie knew Brock and Rory had valid concerns about her reconnecting with Mitch. If she had seen him there, she should’ve immediately reported to them.
Trixie massaged her forehead. “It’s only been a few times.”
“Only?” Brock asked, furious. “So you’re sure he’s been here? You’re certain you’ve seen him?”
“I just said so, Brock, but…”
“But?” Rory pressed.
Trixie’s eyes watered and she bowed her head. “I think I’ve been hallucinating.”
“Oh dear Lord,” Rory said.
“Why do you think that?” Brock asked, deciding he’d rather Trixie believe Mitch was an illusion.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” Rory said, sounding cold and hard. Mitch stirred angst wherever he went, and he and Rory shared a volatile history anyway.
“I don’t know how to explain it, Rory. You have to believe me. One minute, I’m sure I’ve seen him. The next, I’m convinced he’s a figment of my imagination. It’s just that the images of him—several times by the barn, a few times by the road and next to the fence—they’re all so real.”
“But you haven’t spoken to him?” Rory asked.
“No. I’ve been afraid to approach him, scared if I do it will only confirm he’s in my mind rather than here for real, or afraid if he’s actually in Fletcher, he’s only here because he blames me for Jordie Anne’s death. Common sense tells me he’s only in my head.”