Page 11 of A Little More Forgiveness

Christ, what had I gotten into? They were going to kill each other before we had a chance to get off the damn property. Then I remembered Gabe and his big mouth and the nerve he’d hit which had caused me to run in the first place. My instinct had compelled me to get out, get away from the guy. My client obviously had a different approach.

I stood inside the entrance as Mitchell slammed the door and secured the lock behind him for good measure.

He stared me dead in the eyes. “He stays out of the house, you hear?”

“You can’t leave him out there,” I said aghast. “He’ll freeze to death.”

“You unlock that door”— he stabbed his finger toward my face—“you’ll join him.” He waited a beat. “Do you understand me?”

Christ. I reluctantly acquiesced. “Can I at least give him my keys so he can run my vehicle to keep warm?”

I’d expected him to refuse, but after a brief hesitation, he grudgingly agreed. “Fine. But he doesn’t come in the house.”

Raising my hands in submission I walked over to my jacket and extracted the keys from my pocket. Not wanting to chance opening the door, I slid up the window beside the door, and threw him the keys. From the lights on the porch, I could make out Gabe, who remained on all fours in the snow, and I had to lock down every instinct I had to refrain from going outside to help him. I’d been on my knees, defeated, often enough, so turning away from him and closing the window was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

“Please,” I begged, “don’t leave him out there.”

No answer.

When I looked over my shoulder, Mitch had already left the room.

In the kitchen, I found him with his hands braced on the countertop, head bowed under the harsh fluorescent strip light, making me wonder all the more what cruel words were spoken between the two of them, for things to go so bad, so fast.

I hesitated on the other side of the antique pine kitchen table unsure how to proceed. I’d been told in no uncertain terms if I didn’t seal the deal, along with Caitlin losing the care she desperately needed, I would also be responsible for Malcolm having to lay off staff. But at this precise moment, I deliberately disregarded thinking about Caitlin’s needs or other people’s jobs. Mitchell Houghton was hurting, and the waves of pain emanating from his entire body were almost overpowering.

“For what it’s worth, he’s an asshole to me too,” I ventured. His body stiffened at my voice, but he didn’t tell me to leave him alone like I expected. “I’m sure everyone who’s met him thinks he’s an asshole as well.”

A grunt of agreement.

I stepped around the table, moving closer toward him. “I’m not sure he even realizes he’s doing it.”

“Oh, he knows all right.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

He swung his head my way and the look of disbelief at my comment made me smile. He stared at me for a couple more seconds before he grinned too, and my whole world turned on its head. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

The permanent scowl he’d worn since we’d arrived first thing this morning, along with the dark shadows haunting his gaze a few moments ago, had disappeared, and in their place were dancing eyes and a dazzling smile. He seemed so relaxed, as the stress drained from his body, I had to hold on to the top of the kitchen chair to stop the same dizziness I’d first experienced with Gabe from enveloping me once more and spinning me out of control.

I’d no clue why these two men caused such a visceral reaction within me. I mean, I wasn't even sure I liked them very much. That didn’t appear to matter, though, as whenever they smiled at me my body came alive, sending all the blood from my normally analytical and logical brain flooding right to my deprived and needy cock.

“Maybe?”

Maybe what? I needed a second to recover the thread of our conversation. “Yeah, okay, you win.”

His laughter, rich and deep, strummed every single nerve ending I had.

He turned to fully face me and rolled his shoulders, dissipating the remaining tension. “We’ve spoken on the phone a few times but have never been formally introduced.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mitchell Houghton.”

Charmed by his old-style manners, I eagerly took his large hand in my own. Everything stopped once more as his strong fingers enclosed me in their grip. His hand was hot, way hotter than mine, and created a surge of electricity all the way to my toes. As with Gabe, I lost the ability to speak and had to force my lungs to work and suck in some air.

“But, as we’re highly likely to be spending the foreseeable future together, you can call me Mitch.”

“Mitch,” I replied and swallowed hard. “Leo,” I managed to respond, embarrassed at the slight catch in my voice when I did. I’d never had a reaction like this. Not with a single person, let alone two. When he released me, I shivered at the loss of contact but had no chance to decipher the feeling as Mitch’s comment filtered into my addled brain.

“What?”

He looked a little sheepish, which came across cute on such a big guy.

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