Holding Strong
Page 48
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Leese tried to get his feet under him, but something was wrong with his legs. Mitty half carried, half dragged him to the front of his apartment building, banging his shins up each concrete step to the landing. He got callously dumped against a wall, arranged more upright than supine, with his shoulders wedged into a corner beside the door and the railing.
Someone said, “Good enough. If he wants the rest of the way in, let him crawl.”
A rough palm slapped his face to regain his attention. “It’s been fun, man. Thanks for all the info.”
Info? Oh God, they’d been asking something about Cherry—
A meaty fist slammed into his jaw, and a welcome blackness closed in.
* * *
WHEN DENVER KNOCKED very early the next morning, Cherry answered the door. She’d called half an hour ago to say she was up, feeling much better and on the mend. He’d just finished showering after his jog, so he threw on jeans and headed over, anxious to see her.
Taking her in head to toes, he believed she felt better. Lingering shadows remained beneath her dark eyes, but she stood stronger, steadier. Still no makeup, but with her looks she didn’t need it. She must have washed her hair; the scent of hyacinth filled his head when he bent to put a kiss on the side of her neck. He breathed her in and didn’t want to stop. Thoughts of stripping her clothes away so he could again touch that sweet, curvy little body tested his better intentions.
That wouldn’t suit his agenda, so he shored up his resistance and took a step back. “How’d you sleep?”
Her gaze skittered away from his. “Okay.”
Another fib. Had she gotten any rest at all? “No more coughing?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Only a little.”
“Still taking the medicine?”
“It makes me sleepy.”
Meaning no. “Sleep is the best thing for you.”
Rolling her eyes over his excess concern, she moved back. “Come on in.”
When he said, “I can’t stay long,” he saw a subtle tension release from her posture. Had she dreaded his visit, assuming he’d press her for explanations?
She was right, he would.
Holding out a bag, Denver offered an olive branch. “I brought you breakfast.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
He absently tugged at his ear. Things were definitely different today. Less intimate.
He’d have to see what he could do about that. Yes, he’d get some answers. But he’d like her to be willing to talk, or at least not so resistant.
The way Cherry held herself now, the careful way she watched him, he could tell she wanted to act as if nothing had happened, as if she didn’t have three psycho punks hunting her down for some reason.
Would she try to derail him by claiming herself well, by rushing him out the door? Did she want to call Carver now? Or was it that she felt she had to?
He looked around at what he could see of the empty house. “Where’s Merissa?”
“Gone to work about ten minutes ago.”
He checked his watch. It was barely seven thirty. “Already?”
“She said she had an early meeting at the bank. I should have gone to work, too. I’m well enough today—”
“One more day off won’t hurt.” He well knew the level of energy it took to deal with young boys. With preschoolers? He didn’t want to find out. Taking her elbow, he said, “Couch or kitchen?”
“That probably depends on what you brought me.”
“A muffin and juice.”
“Kitchen, then, I guess.” As they headed that way, she peeked into the bag and the scent of warm blueberries escaped. “Mmm, that smells so good.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “Got your appetite back?”
“With a vengeance.” She didn’t sit. “Can I get you anything?”
“I already ate.” He’d have to be at the rec center within the hour. Workouts and keeping up with his remaining accountant duties severely strapped his time. But thanks to his success in MMA, stellar endorsements and good investments, he’d been able to pare back on the job enough to dedicate more effort to growing his fight career.
So far, so good—but still time-consuming.
Getting involved hot and heavy now with Cherry put a slight kink in the works, but it was a nice kink, one he’d definitely enjoy working through.
She sat, opened the juice for a sip, then bit into the muffin with a look of rapture.
Denver smiled. “Good?”
“Heavenly.”
Pulling a chair out, he turned it around and straddled the seat. He waited until she had her mouth full. “How long did you live with the foster family?”
Someone said, “Good enough. If he wants the rest of the way in, let him crawl.”
A rough palm slapped his face to regain his attention. “It’s been fun, man. Thanks for all the info.”
Info? Oh God, they’d been asking something about Cherry—
A meaty fist slammed into his jaw, and a welcome blackness closed in.
* * *
WHEN DENVER KNOCKED very early the next morning, Cherry answered the door. She’d called half an hour ago to say she was up, feeling much better and on the mend. He’d just finished showering after his jog, so he threw on jeans and headed over, anxious to see her.
Taking her in head to toes, he believed she felt better. Lingering shadows remained beneath her dark eyes, but she stood stronger, steadier. Still no makeup, but with her looks she didn’t need it. She must have washed her hair; the scent of hyacinth filled his head when he bent to put a kiss on the side of her neck. He breathed her in and didn’t want to stop. Thoughts of stripping her clothes away so he could again touch that sweet, curvy little body tested his better intentions.
That wouldn’t suit his agenda, so he shored up his resistance and took a step back. “How’d you sleep?”
Her gaze skittered away from his. “Okay.”
Another fib. Had she gotten any rest at all? “No more coughing?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Only a little.”
“Still taking the medicine?”
“It makes me sleepy.”
Meaning no. “Sleep is the best thing for you.”
Rolling her eyes over his excess concern, she moved back. “Come on in.”
When he said, “I can’t stay long,” he saw a subtle tension release from her posture. Had she dreaded his visit, assuming he’d press her for explanations?
She was right, he would.
Holding out a bag, Denver offered an olive branch. “I brought you breakfast.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
He absently tugged at his ear. Things were definitely different today. Less intimate.
He’d have to see what he could do about that. Yes, he’d get some answers. But he’d like her to be willing to talk, or at least not so resistant.
The way Cherry held herself now, the careful way she watched him, he could tell she wanted to act as if nothing had happened, as if she didn’t have three psycho punks hunting her down for some reason.
Would she try to derail him by claiming herself well, by rushing him out the door? Did she want to call Carver now? Or was it that she felt she had to?
He looked around at what he could see of the empty house. “Where’s Merissa?”
“Gone to work about ten minutes ago.”
He checked his watch. It was barely seven thirty. “Already?”
“She said she had an early meeting at the bank. I should have gone to work, too. I’m well enough today—”
“One more day off won’t hurt.” He well knew the level of energy it took to deal with young boys. With preschoolers? He didn’t want to find out. Taking her elbow, he said, “Couch or kitchen?”
“That probably depends on what you brought me.”
“A muffin and juice.”
“Kitchen, then, I guess.” As they headed that way, she peeked into the bag and the scent of warm blueberries escaped. “Mmm, that smells so good.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “Got your appetite back?”
“With a vengeance.” She didn’t sit. “Can I get you anything?”
“I already ate.” He’d have to be at the rec center within the hour. Workouts and keeping up with his remaining accountant duties severely strapped his time. But thanks to his success in MMA, stellar endorsements and good investments, he’d been able to pare back on the job enough to dedicate more effort to growing his fight career.
So far, so good—but still time-consuming.
Getting involved hot and heavy now with Cherry put a slight kink in the works, but it was a nice kink, one he’d definitely enjoy working through.
She sat, opened the juice for a sip, then bit into the muffin with a look of rapture.
Denver smiled. “Good?”
“Heavenly.”
Pulling a chair out, he turned it around and straddled the seat. He waited until she had her mouth full. “How long did you live with the foster family?”
