Page 87 of Perfect Pitch

My fingers still when Mitch’s voice drawls, “I don’t know. You’ve certainly given me food for thought with a few words that have set my mind ablaze in the last few weeks.”

I hit end on the recording and give myself a few extra seconds to gather my bearings knowing I can clean up the recording later. Then I finally turn in my chair before asking, “Don’t you ever call before you drop in?”

He shrugs from the door. “What would be the fun of that?”

The tingle of awareness between us amplifies as he studies me from tip to toe. Shoving away from my workstation, I mention casually, “Trevor’s passed out.”

“I saw the cast. His ankle’s broken?”

“Hairline fracture.”

“Awfully big cast for a hairline.” Mitch frowns.

Conspiratorially, I lean in and share, “Maybe the doctor knows worse damage will be done. I mean, have you seen your brother on crutches?”

Mitch’s shoulders begin to shake. “Good point. Maybe there’s a flag on his chart somewhere.”

“What would it say? Crutch walking hazard? Beware of your toes?” He grins down at me as I angle past him to close the door behind me.

He steps back, but not too far. Just enough so our bodies brush up against one another.

I hear the snick of the latch before he’s back in my space. Exasperated, I ask, “What do you find so fascinating that you’re all up in my space?”

“I just never realized how delicate you are. How high are the heels you wear the nights we’ve gone out?”

“At a guess? Four inches.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. I mock growl, “Don’t worry, Mitch. With or without heels and despite your mad skills, I still have better balance than Trev.”

“I don’t have a doubt about it.” He smiles widely and I’m certain that circuits fry in my brain. No man should look this good, my head tries to tell my heart.

My heart tells my head to shut up.

“Feel like getting out of the city for the day?”

My head cocks to the side. “And doing what?”

His hands slide into his slacks. “Uncle Charlie is close friends with a family who owns a farm in Connecticut. They’re having a get-together.”

I glance down at my jeans and sweater before I realize Mitch is similarly dressed. “I take it it’s not formal?”

“Not even close. Besides, you have got to get a load of this place.”

“Why?”

“They resurrected a dilapidated farm. All the siblings turned the foundations of the original structures into their homes. It was worth nothing and now has been featured in magazines like Architectural Digest and People, not to mention all the papers in the northeast.”

Intrigued and almost certain I’m about to say yes, I ask, “Won’t they be upset at us crashing?”

In response, Mitch slides his cell from his pocket and dials a number. “Hey. Yes, I’m coming. No, Trev can’t. Hairline fracture. Yeah, his foot. No, I’m not surprised either. He’s passed out on pain meds. Any problems with me bringing Austyn along? Didn’t think so. Right.” He disconnects and informs me, “It’s your job to remind me to stop for ice on our way in.”

I fling my bedroom door back open, and as I bend into the closet, I say, “I just need two minutes to find shoes.”

A distracted, “Hmm,” is Mitch’s only response. Flipping my braids over my shoulder, I find him eyeing my ass as I’m buried in my closet. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“About?”

I gesture from him to me and back. “You’re eyeing me like I’m on the menu at the pizza place you took me to.”

---