Page 9 of A Little More Forgiveness

“Sorry,” I apologized to Leo, not wanting to get into another argument.

He huffed, but didn’t say anything else, probably feeling as deflated as me. I hated hanging around, waiting on tenterhooks for what might happen next, especially with no escape route now we were unable to drive out of here or easily walk into town with the amount of snow piled up around us. I studied my dirty suit trousers and mud-stained leather shoes. In my currently inappropriate attire, I’d likely freeze to death before I managed even a mile, trying to hike in the forest with the current two-to-three-foot-high drifts.

The scratch of claws outside on the porch had us both automatically looking at the front door. Sure enough, a second later, the door opened and two wet and messy dogs came rushing in, and because fate decided to give me the finger today, they aimed straight for me. Leaning forward, arms out, I tried to stop them but no such luck. They were on me in seconds with their great, dirty paws leaving muddy prints all over my two-thousand-dollar suit. “Get down,” I ordered, but this only seemed to excite them all the more. Tails wagging and tongues licking, I was never going to win so gave up and let them have at it, stroking both on top of their heads. A suit could be cleaned or replaced, after all. “So who’s Chuck and who’s Norris, eh?”

“Sit. Now.” Mitchell Houghton’s deep voice commanded the dogs who instantly obeyed.

“They were only being friendly,” I countered.

He glared at me but remained quiet. His aggression didn’t intimidate me in the slightest, as even though we’d barely interacted at all, I was already beginning to work him out. From what I’d gathered during our brief time together, he had two distinct settings: angry and shouting, or broody and silent. I kind of liked broody and silent; it made for an easier life. Also, I wouldn’t have to hear him speak, hear the rich baritone of his voice wash over my skin and give me yet another set of goose bumps.

He may be a prickly asshole, but now he’d taken off and hung his cap on the rack by the door along with his thick, wool-lined jacket, I could see he was a fucking handsome one: messy, rich chestnut-brown hair with a slight wave a tad too long, tumbling across his forehead and over his shirt collar; thick beard trimmed but not too neat; strong nose and firm-looking lips peeking out from under his moustache. He was the archetypal hairy bear. So not my type but intriguing, nonetheless. His eyes, though, are what kept drawing me in—light hazel with pale green flecks and long lashes, holding a world of despair deep within their depths, a despair that would never heal.

For an instant, the tiniest of moments, I wanted to get up off the sofa, go over to him, and wrap him in my arms to try to ease his ache. Of course, my brief pang of sympathy went right out the window when he opened his mouth and reverted to the huge asshole I’d first met.

“The dogs don’t need to be friends with you. You won’t be here long enough.”

I stood to face him, not liking how he used his height to tower over me. Even at my full five eleven, I’d always have to look up. “Well, aren’t you a bright ray of sunshine on this dreary day.”

He glared some more, and I don’t know why, but I smiled at him nice and cheesy. That’s a lie. I do know why I did it. He was determined to piss me off, and I was determined to do the same to him. Antagonizing him wouldn’t help my cause in trying to win the man over, but it sure made me feel a whole lot better.

He growled, actually growled, and the sound travelled right down to my balls, forcing me to work extra hard to suppress the moan climbing my throat, threatening to expose my reaction to him. If thinking of getting Leo into bed wasn’t bad enough, there’s no way I’d cope with having a hard-on for Mitchell at the same time, not anymore.

Nope. Not going to happen.

Didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate his rugged looks though.

My smile widened. Did he just look at my lips? No way, no fucking way. He ignored my retort, and performing a swift one-eighty, headed toward the kitchen. Checking him out, my eyes automatically dropped to his ass. Nice and round and chunky, the full cheeks, wobbling slightly as he walked away, were so unlike my preference for a smaller bubble butt but more than perfect to grab a couple handfuls of, and then some.

Prepared to walk around the couch to follow him and see if I managed to elicit the same reaction again when we were face-to-face, an angry Leo brought me to an abrupt halt. “Can you lay off him for five minutes,” he whisper-hissed in my ear. “We might well be stuck here overnight or longer.” My head snapped up to look at him. “You didn’t think about that did you?” I continued to stare at him. “So being constantly antagonistic is not going to help make an easier time for any of us, now is it?”

We may be stuck here overnight or longer. Longer?

Stuffing my hand into my suit pocket I pulled out my phone and began to rapidly scroll through my contacts.

“What are you doing?”

I didn’t look up. “Finding a way to get us out of here.”

“Don’t you think Mitchell Houghton would have tried to do that already?”

I shrugged, concentrating as I flicked through every friend or business contact I’d made since buying my beach house, hoping something or someone would magically appear to get me out of the hell I’d been dropped into. “Who has any clue what he’ll do. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep us here just to piss me off.” The solution to the problem scrolled into view and a pang of relief washed over me. “There’s a helicopter company close by. If I offer them enough money, I’m sure they’ll come pick us up.”

A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and, digging in deep, spun me sideways, Leo right in my face. “You,” he spat. “You, you, you. No one—” He pointed at the kitchen. “—especially him, gives a fuck about pissing you off.” He pushed me away, forcing me to steady myself against the back of the couch. “You’re so up your own ass, it’s unbelievable.” He stepped forward into my face. “And do you think any helicopter company would risk their license by taking off in this weather?” He shook his head. “And where do you think the chopper would land anyway? We’re in the middle of a forest, for god’s sake. There’s no area big enough for rotor clearance to set the damn thing down.” He stopped talking, his breathing heavy, and stalked over to the window, body held tight, tension clear in his wide shoulders.

Okay, he may have a point about the helicopter not being able to land right outside, but this place had a lake on the property. I’d seen it on the drone footage during the summer after being unable to get hold of Houghton to show me around. There wasn’t much of a flat, open area, as the trees ran up close to the water’s edge, but there were small rocky beaches here and there, so surely one of them had enough space to land, right?

And okay, he may also have a point about everything not being only about me, but from where I stood it was two against one. He worked for Houghton. If push came to shove, he’d be on his side, not mine. Privately, he might want the sale to go through, for the fees if nothing else, but I wasn’t going to rely on his help when I was the one forced up against the wall.

“Feel better now you’ve got that off your chest?” I drawled. “You’re holding onto some real anger there, Mr. Taylor.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his jacket off the chair and stomped outside, determined to get away from my presence as fast as possible.

“Do you feel better now you’ve succeeded in pissing him off?” Mitchell spoke right behind me, making me jump. Damn he was sneaky. I whirled around to face him, where he leaned casually against the jamb of the wide-cased opening to the kitchen, his arms and ankles crossed.

Watching me.

“Oh, so, finally, you have something to say?” I rested my ass against the rear of the couch and mirrored his pose.

“I always have something to say, Mr. Sanchez. You just don’t want to listen.”

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