“I don’t know.”

“But there was no other car.”

“It could have been any number of things.” But even he didn’t believe that. His brain had been whirring since he’d seen the wreckage, trying to figure out how anyone had found them. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“But if they know we’re here—”

“No one knows we’re here. And even if they did know we were in the area, they obviously don’t know exactly where. Kendrick’s house is still the safest place.”

For the time being. But how long would that last?

She didn’t continue arguing, and he didn’t bother to look at her. Sipping his coffee, he glanced around the parking lot. After several long seconds, she said, “Mitch, about last night… I—”

Oh no. He wasn’t going there.

“Don’t.” He dropped down to sit on the cement base of a light pole. “Let’s not rehash something that doesn’t need rehashing. You got what you wanted.”

“And what is that?” she asked quietly.

He lifted his cup to his lips and built up a layer of ice over what was left of his heart. Maybe Ryan had it right all those years after he’d lost his wife. Being a total ass was the only way to protect yourself from this kind of misery. “You wanted to be done with me? Well I’m way past done. I’m charbroiled.”

Simone didn’t respond, and as silence stretched between them in the brisk air, Mitch told himself that was fine. That was the way it was supposed to be.

A sleek new Range Rover pulled into the parking lot, heading their way. Mitch’s head came up, and he narrowed his eyes to see through the windshield. A frown pulled at his lips when he recognized the face. “Fuck me.”

This so wasn’t what he needed right now.

“What’s going on? Simone asked, turning from the golf course she’d been staring at to the right of the parking lot.

Mitch pushed to his feet and stuffed one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Our ride’s here.”

The Range Rover drew to a stop, and Tate Kendrick unraveled himself from the driver’s seat. “Dude,” he said, glancing over Mitch as he rested his arm on the open doorframe. “You look like hell.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Holding the coffee in one hand, he stepped toward Tate, caught his hand, and tugged him in for a one-armed hug.

Tate chuckled. “You could act sorta thankful to see me, you know.”

Mitch was thankful to see him. More than he’d expected. “What are you doing here?”

Tate slid both hands in the front pockets of his worn jeans and shrugged, his shoulders lifting and falling in the gray sweater, his snow boots scuffing the parking lot as he moved. “Ford called last night all wigged out that he’d lost you two. I told him not to sweat it, and that you and Mother Nature had a thing going, but I don’t think he believed me.”

“So you flew down here to check on me?”

Tate grinned and shook his shaggy dark hair back from his face, bringing all his rock star good looks into Hollywood mode. “I was having writer’s block. Change of scenery’s always good for me.” He glanced past Mitch toward Simone, and his eyes widened. “Hey, there. You must be the sexy lawyer I’ve heard so much about.”

Mitch’s jaw clenched. Without looking at Simone, Mitch said, “Tate Kendrick, Simone Conners.”

“How do you do,” Simone said.

Tate shoved Mitch out of his way and made a beeline straight for Simone. Wrapping both hands around hers, he tugged off her glove and pulled her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Baby, you’re freezing. This jackass doesn’t know how to show a girl a good time. Spend a few hours with me, and I promise you’ll never think of him again.”

Mitch turned to look, then regretted it. Simone’s amused expression said she wasn’t sure what to make of Tate, but she wasn’t pulling her hand from his lips or telling him to back off like she’d done with Mitch.

Irritation got the best of him as he watched Tate blowing his warm breath over her small hand. “Okay, stop mauling her, Kendrick. She’s not one of your groupies.”

Tate ignored Mitch. Just focused on Simone, pulling her with him as he turned, hooking her hand through his arm and leading her to the car. “He’s just jealous. Ignore him.” He opened the passenger door and offered it to her. “Your white knight is here, madam.”

“Um…” Simone glanced at Mitch, then back at Tate. “Thanks. I think.”

“God Almighty,” Mitch muttered.

Tate grinned and winked down at Simone as she sat and pulled her legs into the new vehicle. “Was he this much fun on your hike? You poor, poor thing.”

Simone didn’t answer, and when Tate closed the door and turned back to him, Mitch shot him a glare. “Pouring it on just a little thick, don’t you think, music man?”

“Just trying to cheer her up. Someone’s got to. I can tell from your peachy mood you didn’t.”

He rounded the car for the driver’s side. “Come on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

Mitch frowned again and picked up his pack and the snowshoes, then climbed into the backseat. Warmth enveloped him, but it wasn’t the warmth he wanted. No, the warmth he still stupidly wanted was sitting in the front seat, angled toward Tate, making small talk about the weather or some other dumb topic.

He watched the scenery as they headed back to Tate’s house and tuned out Tate’s flirting. Simone was right to worry. Someone did know they were here. He just couldn’t figure out how.

By the time they made it back to the house, all that resentment he’d squashed was back full-bore, and this time it wasn’t just Simone’s fault—and that pissed him off more. All he wanted was a stiff drink, a shower, and a bed where he could crash for a few hours. What he had was a nightmare he knew he had to deal with now rather than later.

They pulled into the garage. Tate killed the engine and popped the door. The guy was too busy telling Simone about the property he’d purchased and his headache with the builder to care what Mitch was up to. After dropping the snow gear in the garage, Mitch stomped the snow from his boots and followed them toward the house. Inside he was immediately surrounded by warmth, but it quickly chilled when Simone stopped talking midsentence. She glanced his way, and a dark look spread over her features, one Mitch wasn’t going to feel guilty about.

She turned her attention back to Tate. “I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for picking us up.”

“No problem,” Tate said with a shit-eating grin. “Take as long as you like.”

She disappeared up the stairs.

“Wow,” Tate muttered when they were alone. “She really does not like you.”

Mitch tugged off his jacket and hung it on a hook near the door, then toed off his boots. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“What the hell did you do to her?”

What had he done? Yeah, it was all him. He pushed past Tate and headed for the kitchen. Instead of the alcohol he really wanted, he opted for a soda from the fridge “I’m really not in the mood to talk about it.”

Tate followed, pulling his cell from his back pocket. “You might have to in a few minutes.”

Mitch popped the top on the can and took a long swallow. “Why?”

Tate held up his phone. “Text from Ford. Harrison and his wife are on their way. Should be here anytime. Think that means they have some answers for you?”

Mitch’s hand froze with the can midway to his mouth. Yeah, that was exactly what it meant. And he knew instinctively it wasn’t going to be good. Because if it was good news, Ryan would simply call.

His stomach churned with a mixture of fear and dread. Now more than ever, he really needed that drink, but because he needed to keep his head screwed on tight tonight, that wasn’t going to happen. “I think that means I’m about to get fucked. And not in a good way.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The shower did little to help Simone’s mood.

Wrapped in a towel, she sat on the end of her bed and rubbed her aching forehead. She was making things worse. Every minute she spent with Mitch made his life that much more miserable. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore. She wanted him to be happy, and he was never going to be that with her around. A cold reality spread through her chest. She couldn’t wait for Ryan’s PI any longer. What she needed to do was pack her bags and get the hell away from Mitch once and for all. Then deal with her broken heart in the aftermath.

A knock sounded at her door, and her head came up, nerves rushing though her at the thought it could be Mitch. “Come in.”

The door pushed open, and she held her breath, waiting for…she didn’t know what. But when Kate peeked into the room and smiled, Simone’s excitement turned to confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m happy to see you too.” Kate closed the door at her back.

Simone shook her wet head, realizing she was being rude. “I am happy to see you, I’m just surprised.” She tugged the towel tighter around her breasts. “Shannon—”

“Shannon’s fine, don’t worry. I talked to the kids this morning. They’re having a great time with Ryan’s parents.”

A breath of relief seeped out of Simone. As long as Shannon was okay, she could deal with everything else. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Ryan’s downstairs with the guys. They told me you were up here alone.” Kate’s green eyes—so much like Mitch’s—narrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”

Was she okay? That was a stupid question. Even more ludicrous, because Kate should be worried about her brother, not the woman who’d tromped all over his heart. Rising, Simone grabbed clothes from the dresser drawers, then headed for the bathroom so she could get dressed. “I’m fine.”