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“Flykra? Where are you?”
That voice made her knees weak. Locking them, she turned and found herself looking at an older woman she didn’t know. At all. Tall, elegant, and dripping with disdain as she looked at Hope.
Mitchell walked into view. His gaze moved from one to the other but lasered on her, the warmth fading as he saw the other woman there. He’d dressed in a Henley and jeans, looking delicious.
“Jo, I have to go. Can I call you back?”
“Of course. Do it quick, I have a story for you. It’s the one you were hoping for. They looked at your questions and want to bring you in.”
Excitement shot through her. “I can’t wait to hear about it. I know I can do the story to perfection.”
“Who is this person in your home, Mitchell? Shawnee won’t like another woman here, not that this one would be much of a threat to her.”
“Call you later, Jo.” Hope ended the call and lifted her chin.
“Quiet, Mother.” Mitchell stepped closer to Hope, eyes narrowing. “Who were you on the phone with? What story are you doing?”
“Probably a story on your company that you’re trying to keep from me and your wife.”
“Mother, shut it,” he growled, eyes never leaving Hope. “Is this true? You’ve been trying to get a story about my company this whole time? Knowing I’ve been refusing interviews with everyone?”
She furrowed her brow. Wait a minute, what is going on here? “You can’t think I would—”
“I know my son doesn’t associate with your kind and I saw your card. You’re a reporter.”
Betrayal sliced over Mitchell’s face and he stepped away when Hope reached for him.
“I’m not a reporter,” she insisted. She also had no idea what card the woman spoke about. She had one business card in the box but it didn’t mention anything other than her name and office contact information.
“God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” he rasped, pain and disgust in every word. “That’s what this has been? The entire time? A ploy?”
Although she’d known their time together had to end, she’d not expected it to be this brutal. That he would think so poorly of her. Accuse her. “You can’t honestly think that, Mitchell.”
“Get out,” he growled. “Get your shit and get out of my house.” His nostrils flared as he shot daggers in her direction.
His mother stepped up to his side and curved her hand over his forearm, her pointed bloodred nails vibrant against his gray and white shirt. “You know her kind is only after your money, son.”
It killed Hope to see how he listened to this woman without question. But when he jabbed a finger in her direction, she hardened her heart and stopped trying to get him to see her side of this misunderstanding.
“I’m going out and I want you to leave.” His mother smirked at her but it fell away with his added comment. “You, too, Mother.” He pulled free of her hold.
God, she didn’t want things to end this way but the raw pain and anger on his face told her he wouldn’t listen to her. One final try.
“Mitchell, please. Let me explain the call. Jo does publish things for me but—”
His mother interrupted, “He isn’t going to fall for your lines. You’re not at all his type, so whatever your plan was, it failed. Leave, like he said.”
She tried to ignore the hateful woman and get his attention but he shook her off with a snarl, grabbing her phone and dropping it to the floor and smashing it with the heel of his boot. “Get out of my house. If I never see you again, Hope Roman, it will be too soon. Be gone when I get back.”
Hope ground her jaw, trying to remain calm and convince herself he was overreacting because of his past. But it was too late. He’d made up his mind. In one way, she got it. His mother had been a constant in his life. His entire life. Good, bad, or otherwise. She hadn’t been.
Not that it hurts less because of that.
And she responded, her own hurt coming out. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Mitchell, but what kind of fool do you think I am to get in an accident as a ploy to trap you when I didn’t even fucking know who you were? Or that you would stop and help me? Remember, you found me upside down in my car. It’s not like I sauntered up to you at a bar.”
His face held an ugly sneer. “Because you knew that wouldn’t work?”
A self-deprecating laugh. “Right, because like we’ve established, I’m not your type.”
His gaze met hers once more. “Like my mother said, not even close.” Then he was gone and her heart shattered into a million pieces.
The smile on the woman’s face curdled her stomach but she refused to let it show. Without a word to her, she walked to Mitchell’s bedroom and packed her bag, taking what she could from the box and leaving what she couldn’t fit. Then, putting it on her shoulder, she walked out of the house into the snowy day.
