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“Very kind of you, but you’re the one I need my wits for.” She claimed the front table in the glow of the neon beer sign and shed her pea coat.
Mitch set their drinks down with more peanuts. He pulled a chair with those precise, masculine movements she’d liked the first time they’d met. “Okay, hit me with your best shot.”
Were they back on good terms? She took in his close-cropped dark hair, his honed cheekbones, his skeptical expression. Not yet.
“You said you wanted to explain something?” Mitch opened the peanuts.
Cath took a sip of her drink to wet down her dry throat. She’d been planning to tell him about her relationship with Paul, but that might only put a scowl back on his face. He waited expectantly, and she had to say something that would explain her distrust. “My mother and brother and I were homeless when I was a kid. I had to always look out for him because Les couldn’t hear well.”
“That must have been rough.” He unzipped his jacket to expose the T-shirt with the in-your-face black letters identifying him as a bounty hunter. He did not pat her hand. Point in his favor. “How long were you homeless?”
“About five years, until I was twelve. I learned people aren’t always straight with you.”
“I’ve been straight with you.” His steady gaze bored into her, challenging her to deny that.
“I’m grateful.” She peered at him. Was he accepting this?
“Not enough to confide in me.” His scowl reappeared, darn it. “You could have told Hal you were leaving.”
“He would have insisted I wait for you.”
Mitch stiffened and pushed a cuff back to check the time.
“Okay, okay. It was a bad move. But you need to understand Les is all the family I have now. I’m all he’s got too.”
“You said that before.”
“It’s true.” She stabbed at her ice with the swizzle stick. Maybe her brother wasn’t such a good topic either. Not until later, anyway. Would she get a “later”? Or would Mitch dump her somewhere when they left? Or walk out and leave her here? “I do like working with you.”
“Except where your brother is concerned.”
“That’s not true.” What was she doing? She needed to agree, not disagree. “We have different reasons for wanting to find Les, we both want to get him back into the system and off the streets.”
“Cath.” He paused. The corners of his brown eyes pinched as if whatever he wanted to say meant a lot to him. But she might not want to hear it? “He’s your brother. I’ll do what I can to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”
Her heart stuttered. Mitch agreed with her. She slumped against her chair and laid a hand on his arm. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
“I can imagine.” He took that hand between his.
Things were getting too mushy now, so she grinned. “I’m taking you at your word.”
“You’ve got it.” He released his hand and reached for his own ginger ale. “How bad is your brother’s hearing?”
“He can’t hear at all without his aids. I hate to think how vulnerable he is without them.” She sipped her drink. “Any particular reason you want to know?”
“I was thinking about my own brother.” Mitch stared across the bar. “I don’t think Kurt’s loss is that bad, and he’s been able to take care of himself. Had to be extra alert for his job. I wish I’d known when his problems started.”
The brothers looked like they shared a close relationship. “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t keep up with my family.” Mitch looked away.
Shock hit her, and she leaned forward. “I would think since you were in the service, they’d be your lifeline.”
“Should have been.” Mitch grimaced. “Not their fault. Mine.”
Her heart clenched and she stroked a hand over his wrist. “What could you have done?”
“Been there for moral support. He gave me plenty after our folks were killed. I feel so bad for him, but I don’t know how to help him.”