Page 65 of Blind Attraction

She glanced up from cleaning the kitchen sink to see one of the removalists frowning at the front door. She followed his gaze and found her mother standing on the outside of the screen, her posture straight, her chin high. “Mom?”

Her mother flashed Alana a quick glance before bringing her focus back to the man standing in the middle of the room with a large box in his hands.

“Sorry,” Alana mumbled under her breath. “She isn’t used to...strangers.” She pushed from the counter and strode from the house, letting the screen door shut with a slap. “What’s up?”

“I—” Her mother’s focus strayed inside. “Um... Kate rang the house phone.”

Alana stepped into her line of vision and claimed her attention. “And?” She rested a hand on her mom’s shoulder to steer her into the front yard. Her mother ignored her, leaning forward, reaching for something propped against the wall.

“You brought a gun!”

The rifle hung from her mom’s good hand. “I have a right to protect myself.” She stepped back, and they walked side-by-side to the gravel driveway leading to the main house. “I came to tell you Kate rang. She said she tried to call you last night and wants you to call her back.”

Alana’s gaze drifted from the gun, to her mother’s serious expression, then back to the gun. “O...K...”

Both men exited her cottage carrying boxes, and her mother’s grip on the rifle tightened.

“Mom, you need to go back to the house. Everything is fine here. I’ll call Kate later.”

Her mother gave a jerky nod, her focus remaining on the men until she pivoted on her toes and strode to the main house.

As afternoon fell, the movers left with her belongings and she sat on the dusty floorboards eating a sandwich she made earlier.

“Oh, shit.” She dusted her hands and hobbled to the kitchen, her muscles protesting as she grabbed her phone from the counter. She forgot to turn the ringer back on and found the announcement of eight missed calls on her screen. Clicking on the call log, she read the details of three of Kate’s calls and five from a private number. She poised her finger above the icon to return Kate’s call but the far off sounds of hysterical shouting caused her to drop the phone and rush to the door.

The screen closed with a slap and made her jump. She strode out the front of her cottage, toward the main house, and found an unfamiliar white car parked in the driveway. Her mother stood on the porch, rifle poised and ready to fire. She aimed down at the vehicle and the two men standing on either side of it.

“Get off my property!” Her mom’s voice was frantic, unfamiliar.

Alana focused back on the men as she began to run, her stomach dropping with each step.

Oh. God.

Mitchell.

Mitch raised his hands in surrender. “Ms. Shelton?”

Finding Alana had been a group effort. Mitch had the good fortune of catching their pilots before they left Richmond convincing them to make a flight to Colorado Springs first thing in the morning. Leah had also been kind enough to answer his late night call to help locate the woman’s retreat.

Now they were here, unwelcomed, and staring down the barrel of a rifle. He should’ve paid more attention to theNo men allowed unless authorizedsign on the front fence.

“Get off my property!” the woman wailed, her voice shaking with emotion.

“Holy. Shit.” Blake whispered over the hood of the car. “I think this is where I punch out on the friendship card and back the fuck away.”

“Please, just let me see Alana.”

“I won’t tell you again, buddy,” her voice rose.

It wasn’t as if they arrived unexpected. Mitch had been on the phone to her only minutes earlier. He’d taken the number off the retreat sign at the front gate and called to ask for permission to enter. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t planned on taking no for an answer anyway.

“Please, ma’am,” Blake skirted the bonnet with raised arms, his tattoos gleaming in the sunshine. “We’ve come all the way from New York. We only want a few minutes with her.”

She peered down at Blake with disdain. Mitch knew exactly what she saw, a hoodlum with inked skin, spiked hair, and frayed jeans. A door slammed in the distance followed by footsteps crunching on gravel. The woman glanced to her right, then back at Blake who still approached.

“Stop!” she yelled.

He took another step. “I’m sorry, I’m—”

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