Holding Strong
Page 86
Denver gave an exaggerated wince. “Just don’t admit to your lady friend that you’re picturing another woman.”
“Yeah, I’m distracted, not stupid.” He grabbed up his gym bag. “That’s the kind of loose talk that could put an end to friends with benefits.”
Denver headed back out to the main area with Stack. His class would start in just a few minutes.
The high school boys were already in place, warming up, goofing around with the heavy bag, all in all being healthy, athletic guys. Denver was headed toward them when, one by one, he saw them look toward the door.
His neck prickling with unease, Denver turned—and found Pamela Barnett Lewis standing there.
The quintessential evil stepmother.
Claws of hostility soured his mood. Disdain overshadowed exhaustion.
He did not need this shit today.
Of course she made a smiling beeline for him, looking around as she strode elegantly across the floor.
At twenty-nine, she was only four years older than him—making her twenty-three years younger than his dad.
Straight red hair, the color enhanced by a pricey salon, hung loose to skim just below her shoulder blades. The curve-hugging dress and high-heeled sandals showcased her body.
Behind him a whisper sounded and Denver realized that not only the high school seniors were ogling her. When Pamela walked in, she deliberately drew attention, so now most every male in the place was appreciating her curves and poise.
Right before she reached him, he called out to Stack, who’d paused at the reception desk on his way out to talk briefly with Gage’s wife, Harper.
Stack looked at him, then at Pamela. Curiosity lifted his brows high as he said one last thing to Harper and headed over.
“Hello, Denver.”
For the moment, Denver ignored her. “Sorry, Stack, but I might need you for a few minutes after all.”
“Sure.” He started away, but of course Pamela didn’t let him.
“Hello.” She held out her manicured hand. “I’m Pamela Barnett Lewis, Denver’s stepmother.”
She stressed the relationship, waiting for Stack to show his shock, to tell her she was too young, anything, as long as it was a big reaction.
But still Stack didn’t take the bait. He accepted her hand in a brief greeting, said, “Ma’am,” with enough respect for a grandmother, and excused himself to get the boys going.
Damn, he had terrific friends.
Puzzled, Pamela gave a reasonable facsimile of a frown without actually puckering her perfect brow. “Denver—”
“This way,” he said, unwilling to have any discussion with her, for any reason, out in the open. Not bothering to see if she’d follow or not, he headed for the breakroom.
The click of her heels right behind him made him feel stalked. When he finally got into the room with relative privacy he released a pent-up breath.
Pulling out a chair, he seated himself and waited for her to do the same.
She tsked. “You still haven’t learned any manners.”
Censure from her was laughable.
But sitting was a bad move on his part because instead of taking a seat, she propped her hip on the table—right next to him.
Letting his revulsion show, Denver pushed back his chair and stood.
Her long sigh sounded both seductively breathy and reproachful. “I see you’re still holding a grudge, too.”
“There’s no grudge.”
Lined green eyes taunted him. “Your father chose me over you and you’re understandably bitter.”
One step brought him nose to nose with her. Low, his anger somehow fresh and still raw, Denver said, “Who he fucks is his business. But when you try to fuck me, it becomes my business, too.”
“I was young.”
“You were a lot of things. Let’s not go through the list.”
Her voice rose with her snapping temper. “Can’t you be civil for even five minutes?”
Apparently not. Taking a step back, he crossed his arms. “What do you want, Pamela?”
With an effort, she pulled herself together, needlessly toying with her hair and smoothing the short skirt of her dress. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost believe her act of distress.
“Your father’s birthday is coming up and I expect you home for his party.”
Denver barely heard the words since Pamela said them while ogling his body. His eyes narrowed.
She caught herself and actually flushed. “I’m sorry. It’s just...it appears you’ve gotten even bigger.”
His jaw locked.
“Yeah, I’m distracted, not stupid.” He grabbed up his gym bag. “That’s the kind of loose talk that could put an end to friends with benefits.”
Denver headed back out to the main area with Stack. His class would start in just a few minutes.
The high school boys were already in place, warming up, goofing around with the heavy bag, all in all being healthy, athletic guys. Denver was headed toward them when, one by one, he saw them look toward the door.
His neck prickling with unease, Denver turned—and found Pamela Barnett Lewis standing there.
The quintessential evil stepmother.
Claws of hostility soured his mood. Disdain overshadowed exhaustion.
He did not need this shit today.
Of course she made a smiling beeline for him, looking around as she strode elegantly across the floor.
At twenty-nine, she was only four years older than him—making her twenty-three years younger than his dad.
Straight red hair, the color enhanced by a pricey salon, hung loose to skim just below her shoulder blades. The curve-hugging dress and high-heeled sandals showcased her body.
Behind him a whisper sounded and Denver realized that not only the high school seniors were ogling her. When Pamela walked in, she deliberately drew attention, so now most every male in the place was appreciating her curves and poise.
Right before she reached him, he called out to Stack, who’d paused at the reception desk on his way out to talk briefly with Gage’s wife, Harper.
Stack looked at him, then at Pamela. Curiosity lifted his brows high as he said one last thing to Harper and headed over.
“Hello, Denver.”
For the moment, Denver ignored her. “Sorry, Stack, but I might need you for a few minutes after all.”
“Sure.” He started away, but of course Pamela didn’t let him.
“Hello.” She held out her manicured hand. “I’m Pamela Barnett Lewis, Denver’s stepmother.”
She stressed the relationship, waiting for Stack to show his shock, to tell her she was too young, anything, as long as it was a big reaction.
But still Stack didn’t take the bait. He accepted her hand in a brief greeting, said, “Ma’am,” with enough respect for a grandmother, and excused himself to get the boys going.
Damn, he had terrific friends.
Puzzled, Pamela gave a reasonable facsimile of a frown without actually puckering her perfect brow. “Denver—”
“This way,” he said, unwilling to have any discussion with her, for any reason, out in the open. Not bothering to see if she’d follow or not, he headed for the breakroom.
The click of her heels right behind him made him feel stalked. When he finally got into the room with relative privacy he released a pent-up breath.
Pulling out a chair, he seated himself and waited for her to do the same.
She tsked. “You still haven’t learned any manners.”
Censure from her was laughable.
But sitting was a bad move on his part because instead of taking a seat, she propped her hip on the table—right next to him.
Letting his revulsion show, Denver pushed back his chair and stood.
Her long sigh sounded both seductively breathy and reproachful. “I see you’re still holding a grudge, too.”
“There’s no grudge.”
Lined green eyes taunted him. “Your father chose me over you and you’re understandably bitter.”
One step brought him nose to nose with her. Low, his anger somehow fresh and still raw, Denver said, “Who he fucks is his business. But when you try to fuck me, it becomes my business, too.”
“I was young.”
“You were a lot of things. Let’s not go through the list.”
Her voice rose with her snapping temper. “Can’t you be civil for even five minutes?”
Apparently not. Taking a step back, he crossed his arms. “What do you want, Pamela?”
With an effort, she pulled herself together, needlessly toying with her hair and smoothing the short skirt of her dress. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost believe her act of distress.
“Your father’s birthday is coming up and I expect you home for his party.”
Denver barely heard the words since Pamela said them while ogling his body. His eyes narrowed.
She caught herself and actually flushed. “I’m sorry. It’s just...it appears you’ve gotten even bigger.”
His jaw locked.
