by Lori Foster
Seeing he was now decently covered, she released a breath and opened both eyes. “You may have stunted my growth.”
“You’re tall enough.” While she was willowy slim, she stood only an inch or so shorter than his six feet, and every inch of her appealed to him. “If you grew much more, you’d tower over your brother.”
“He’s three inches taller than me.”
“Doin’ the math, huh? Still makes you tall, Stretch. Especially for a girl.” While she grew disgruntled from his teasing—as he’d intended—Armie let his gaze drift over her again. She wore a simple, stretchy sleeveless cotton dress that showed the narrowness of her waist, the subtle swell of her breasts and hips. It ended several inches above her knees, showcasing those impossibly long, trim, shapely legs. No jewelry, very little makeup, flat sandals and her hair loose.
And God help him, she was so hot he had to sing a litany in his head to keep his body from reacting to her nearness. Cannon’s sister, Cannon’s sister, Cannon’s sister. In his towel, he wouldn’t be able to hide a rise.
“I heard you were signing with the SBC.”
Her light blue eyes were the same as her brother’s, but damn, they had a very different effect on him.
“Yeah.” Discomfort had him rubbing the back of his neck.
With rapt focus, Rissy stared at his biceps, and then his underarm.
He scowled at her as he lowered his arm. “Heard that from your brother, I assume?”
“Was it a secret?”
“No.” But it wasn’t something he wanted to advertise yet. He needed time to get used to the idea.
Rissy took a step closer, making him catch and hold his breath. “You’ll be away a lot now, won’t you?”
Since he’d have to exhale to answer, he shrugged.
She stared into his eyes, and he felt her soft sigh on his mouth. “I’m thinking of relocating, too.”
It hit him like a liver punch, stealing all his air. “Since when?” he wheezed.
Turning, she leaned on the wall, her arms folded behind her, one leg bent. Looking pensive, she kept her head down. “I got offered a promotion if I relocate to Indiana.”
He’d half been hoping she’d say Kentucky, since that’s where he’d be dividing his time going from the rec center to the camp where Cannon trained, with Havoc and Simon.
He wanted to say, “Don’t go,” but instead he growled, “Congrats, then.”
“I haven’t accepted yet. I have a little time to think about it.” Her gaze sought his. “You’ll be in Kentucky, right?”
“Sometimes.”
In a rush, she asked, “Why do you have to do that? Go away, I mean. What’s wrong with training here?”
“Rissy.” She already understood damn near as much about MMA as he did. Every step of the way she’d been a dedicated supporter of her brother’s career path. “Different camps make better rounded fighters.”
“The variety, I know. But why can’t those guys rotate here?”
“Havoc and Simon are a big deal.” He choked out the words, saying, “It’s an honor to be invited to their camp.”
She made a rude sound. “You don’t care about stuff like that.”
His muscles tensed. “Honor?”
“Prestige.”
“Oh.” Yeah, he didn’t much care about that.
“Armie?”
Wary, he said, “Yeah?”
“I would never question your honor.” As she walked away, she trailed her fingertips over his right shoulder, across his chest, and off his left shoulder.
Stymied, he watched her go, specifically the gentle sway of her ass. Damn it, he had wood after all.
Then he remembered Cherry’s sicko foster brothers and jogged to the end the hall in time to see Cannon walking her out.
If they both left Ohio, that could well solve his problem.
Then again, he had a feeling that particular long-legged, sassy-mouthed, tall temptation of a problem could only be solved by giving in.
And that was no real solution at all.
* * *
THANK GOD THE rest of their Friday went well.
Denver had been so entertaining through dinner and the action movie that Cherry almost forgot about the uproar Carver had caused. He treated their first official date very seriously and went out of his way to make it wonderful for her.
She had to think Armie was right—giving over to Denver 100 percent had made a marked difference.
It still wasn’t easy for her. She’d gotten used to doing for herself, to making ends meet on her own and doing without when she couldn’t. Having Denver take on some of her responsibilities left her uneasy.
For her, a new phone and additional bill would have been staggering. He treated it as no big deal. And she did understand the importance of cutting off all contact with Carver. In fact, Denver kept her phone in his pocket, and she carried his. First thing tomorrow, before they went to his father’s party, he said they’d stop to get her a new number.
Repeatedly he thanked her for allowing him to do it. So ridiculous. Who thanked a person for letting them spend their hard-earned money on gifts?
In her heart, she knew it was a person who understood the importance of independence. In so many ways, Denver proved what a remarkable man he was.
Now they were at Rowdy’s bar, as were most of their friends, and everyone seemed in a good mood. They took up two big tables and a booth toward the back corner of the bar. Denver had fans continually approach him. Cannon, too. The men took it in stride, laughing, signing autographs, always receptive.
When the women flirted a little too much, the guys were amazingly diplomatic, remaining polite and funny without encouraging.
At Rowdy’s request, they moved to the side of the floor for a few photos with regular customers. The location would keep the crowd from jamming up the rest of the bar. Grinning, Denver stood between a woman and her boyfriend, his arms spread behind them. He was so big he towered over both of them, his shoulders broad enough to encompass them both.
So gorgeous, so sweet, so talented—and currently all hers.
“Young love,” Armie quipped beside her with a dramatic sigh.
“Looks like Denver must be doing something right,” Stack agreed while giving her a playfully critical appraisal. “She looks...satisfied.”
Leese, now an accepted part of the group, laughed while nodding his head toward Denver. “So does he.”
They all turned to look at Denver, who was now looking at Cherry.
She blushed at the heat in his eyes; Denver gave a slow, knowing smile.
At the table next to them, Vanity handed Cherry a magazine. “What do you think?”
The magazine showed a woman with a shoulder-length sleek hairdo. “You’re getting your hair cut?” Cherry couldn’t imagine it. Vanity’s heavy, pale blond hair had just enough wave to always look amazing.
“Not me,” Vanity said. “Merissa is thinking of changing her look.”
Yvette crossed her arms on the table. “She wants to change things up a bit.”
It was hilarious how all the men—all but Armie—started objecting to Merissa at the same time.
“But your hair is so pretty.”
“It’s downright sexy.”
“Why would you want to cut it?”
Merissa went bright red at all the attention. “It’s just...there. I wanted a style.”
“Hell no,” Stack said, and he reached out to run two fingers down a long tress. “Take it from me, dudes like your long hair, styled or not.”
Leese smiled at her. “Hair that long is part of a dozen fantasies.”
“Really?” Merissa didn’t look convinced.
“At least,” Stack said.
“I told you so,” Vanity said, and then she seemed to remember her own hair was as long and she glanced at Stack.
He lifted a brow, and nodded.
Yvette and Cherry shared a look. They both realized that everyone had weighed in except Armi
e. And that was probably the person Rissy most wanted to hear from.
Vanity must’ve caught on, too, because she finally pulled her gaze away from Stack and leaned around Cherry to see Armie. “What do you think?”
“It’s her hair,” Armie said with bland indifference. He took a pull off his beer and shrugged. “She can do whatever she wants with it.”
Merissa ducked her face, and damn, Cherry wanted to smack Armie. She was thinking of kicking him under the table when big hands settled on her shoulders. Standing behind her chair, Denver bent to whisper in her ear. “You doing okay?”
Happiness bubbled up. “I’m terrific.”
He kissed her cheek, nuzzled her neck, then tipped her face back so he could put his mouth to hers.
After ending the kiss, he crouched down beside her chair. “I’m sorry about the fans.”
“Don’t be.” Cherry cupped a hand to his jaw. “You’re a very popular guy. I love it.”
His golden eyes searched hers. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
Of course she didn’t. She’d fallen in love with a fighter; she accepted that his career would require a lot of training and many trips away from her. His success was important to him, and that made it important to her.
With a pat to his chest, she said, “Do what you need to do to keep your fans happy. It’s not a problem.” She leaned closer until her nose almost touched his. “But at the end of the day, you’re all mine.”
Funny, given they’d had sex many times now, but Denver’s eyes flared with hot interest. “Damn, girl,” he whispered low. “Much more of that and I won’t be decent to talk to fans.”
Giddy elation had her smiling like a sap. “Denver?”
“Yeah?”
“This is the best date ever.”
He cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for another long kiss. “I’ll wrap up soon.”
“Don’t rush. I’m enjoying myself.” And after that display, not a single female in the bar had any doubts that Denver was taken. She especially loved him for that.
“You won’t go anywhere, not even the restroom, alone?”
She crossed her heart. “You have my word.”
After one more kiss that had Stack laughing and Armie rolling his eyes, Denver rejoined Cannon. The two men moved toward the pool tables with a small enthusiastic crowd.
“That’ll be you soon,” Cherry told Armie. “After your first match with the SBC, you’re going to get mobbed.”
In reply, he downed the rest of his beer.
When Merissa left her table, Cherry decided to go along just in case her roommate needed a friendly shoulder. Armie caught up to both of them right outside the women’s restroom.
He took Rissy’s arm. “Hold up.”
Cherry started to go into the restroom to give them privacy, but Armie nixed that idea by blocking the door. He didn’t look at Cherry, but kept his gaze focused entirely on Merissa.
She looked a little weak in the knees. “What—”
Jaw flexing, he watched her for several heart-stopping moments before finally grating out, “Don’t cut it.”
They stared at each other until Cherry started to feel like a voyeur.
Finally Merissa whispered, “Okay.”
As if that broke a spell, Armie glanced back at Cherry. “See if anyone’s in there.”
“The john?”
“Yeah.”
“Er...okay.” She opened the door, poked her head in, and saw two empty stalls but three women at the sinks refreshing their makeup. “Just ladies.”
Armie nodded. “I’ll wait for the two of you right here.”
Like a zombie, Rissy went in first, but as soon as the door closed behind Cherry, Rissy slumped against the wall and fanned her face.
“Good Lord,” Cherry said, agreeing with her. “What was that all about?”
“No idea.”
“He must like your hair long,” Cherry said around a jaw-aching grin. She was happy and darn it, she wanted everyone else to be happy, too.
“I guess.” Rissy covered her face, groaned, then dropped her hands and stared at Cherry. “It probably means nothing at all so please don’t tell—”
Cherry launched to her tiptoes to hug her—and that was funny enough all on its own given the disparity in their heights. “My lips are sealed.”
The three ladies exited the restroom, forcing Cherry and Rissy to separate.
Rissy went to the sink and smoothed her hair as if seeing it for the first time. “And to think I was ready to hide.”
Watching her, Cherry asked, “What do you mean?”
“I was offered a promotion in Indiana. Branch manager at a smaller bank. It seemed the perfect way to...well, stay away from Armie. I mean, when I’m here, I see him everywhere and...” Though they were alone, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Armie does it for me. Know what I mean?”
“I do.” Because she’d always felt the same about Denver.
“Since he’s not interested, it’s always so uncomfortable for me.”
Cherry gave her a look until Merissa started to grin. “Yeah,” Cherry said. “I think he’s interested.”
Barely muffling a squeal, Rissy said, “So maybe I should put off hiding for a bit yet?”
“Yes, definitely.” As someone who’d spent far too much of her life hiding, she would never recommend it. She’d hidden because she was more terrified of what Carver and his brothers would do to her than she was of the bugs and snakes...in the woods...near the old rusted truck where she always hid.
Her eyes widened at the comprehension of her own stupidity. “Oh my God.”
Smile fading, Rissy asked, “What?”
Cherry put a hand to her head while the puzzle pieces began clicking together. “How could I have not realized?” But of course she knew. Fear. Whenever Carver got close, it shook her so badly she couldn’t think straight.
But no more.
She looked around the bathroom but found no answers. What to do? What to do?
Rissy frowned. “Cherry? You’re scaring me.”
The bathroom door cracked open, and Armie peeked in, looked at each woman and scowled. “What happened?”
Rissy gaped at him. “You can’t come in here!”
He took another look at Cherry and pushed on in anyway. “Cherry?”
Awful comprehension kept her wide-eyed. “I know what Carver wants.” Her own rushing heartbeat sounded loud in her ears. “I know!” Driven by urgency, she started out but Armie pulled her up short.
“Hang on, doll.” He caught Rissy’s hand and hauled her along with them as they walked. “What are we doing? Talk to me.”
“I used to hide from Carver,” she blurted while they were still in the small hallway with relative privacy and a little less noise. “He would...get after me.” She shook her head, unwilling to spill her guts to Armie and Rissy. “I hid and that’s what he wants to know. Where I hid. It must be where Janet put the drugs or the money or both.”
Confusion kept Armie’s brows pulled together. “I’m not following, hon. Slow down and take a breath.”
She stepped out to the floor and realized Denver was still surrounded by a group of admirers. She couldn’t disturb him, not yet.
What to do?
She searched the room while trying to decide, and there at the bar she spotted Detective Riske and Detective Bareden. It looked as if they’d just come in together because they weren’t yet seated, were only chatting with Rowdy and his wife. They were casually dressed, clearly off the clock.
She didn’t know the men well but she’d met them through Cannon and Yvette. Lieutenant Peterson she did know, and hopefully the lieutenant would be joining them.
Cherry smiled at Rissy, patted Armie. “I’m going to talk to the detectives. No, Armie, I don’t need you with me. It’s...private. If you’ll just go back to the table, I’d appreciate it.”
Armie searched her face. “You’re okay?”
Thinking she might
finally be able to rid herself of Carver, she nodded. “Yes, I think I am.” On impulse, she gave him a hug, then, because she felt so hopeful, she gave one to Rissy, also. “Don’t disturb Denver, but if he finishes up, tell him I’m with the detectives.”
Hoping to catch them before they got seated, she left Armie and charged up to the bar.
Carver’s threats were about to end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ACROSS THE ROOM, Cherry saw both Stack and Leese watching her, on alert. Since Armie stood guard nearby, neither of them bothered to intrude.
She had the most amazing friends. Yes, for a while there Carver’s intrusion had rattled the very foundation of her newfound life. But not anymore. She’d do whatever she had to do to protect her independence, her friends and her growing relationship with Denver.
Her smile trembled, but she hoped it would be reassuring as she made a beeline for the bar, stepping up right between the two big cops.
Brows lifted, they looked down at her.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but...” She clasped her hands together to hide her nervousness. “Will Lieutenant Peterson be joining you?” Please, please let her be part of their group.
Detective Bareden, a hulk of a guy, shook his head. “Margaret and Dash are taking a three-day weekend away.”
Well, damn. Cherry chewed her bottom lip.
The other cop, Detective Riske, said, “Something we can help you with?”
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Cherry Peyton.”
“We’ve met, right?” Bareden asked her.
“Yes, briefly.” She nodded at each of them. “Detective Riske and Detective Bareden. I’m surprised you remember, though.”
Riske leaned on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Margaret mentioned you before she took off. Asked me to keep an eye out. Snakes and bugs in your car, right?”
She shuddered in memory. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Has something else happened?” Bareden asked.
“No. Yes.” She shook her head, a little hyper with the possibility of finally putting an end to Carver’s reign of terror. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening, Detectives, but could I speak with you privately for just a minute?”
Rowdy braced his forearms on the top of the bar. “Problem, Cherry?”
