Holding Strong
Page 87
She gasped. “I don’t mean... I wasn’t...” Stammering didn’t suit her. She righted herself and said with formality, “Clearly you’ve been taking good care of yourself.”
His mood growing more frigid by the moment, Denver considered walking out on her. But she was so tenacious she might follow, and then he’d be back out in public with her again. “I’ll try giving Dad a call, but we both know he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“No, a call isn’t enough.” She took a stance. “I’m having an intimate family party and that means you, dear son, need to be there.”
* * *
SOON AS SHE saw Armie pull up, Cherry raced out to meet him. Holding her purse close to her side, avoiding the deeper puddles, she bopped along the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. The light sprinkling rain, she decided, wouldn’t be so bad as long as she didn’t linger.
Unfortunately, halfway to Armie, the skies opened up and a deluge of freezing rain, carried on a high wind, drenched her to the skin.
Armie threw open the door. “Damn, Cherry, why didn’t you wait for me?”
As she jumped in, he handed her several napkins that she used to dry her face and throat, then she immediately wrapped her arms around herself to try to fight off the shivers. “What would you have done? Gotten drenched, too?”
“I have an umbrella and a windbreaker.”
“Oh.” Yeah, her umbrella was in her car. So dumb. “I’m getting your seats soaked.”
“They’ll dry.” Reaching into the backseat, he dug out the nylon windbreaker and handed it to her, then slowly pulled forward with the line of cars picking up kids.
“Bless you.” The jacket didn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing. After she had it on, she buckled her seatbelt.
“Want me to turn up the heat?”
“No, that’s okay.” He was in no more than a T-shirt and looked comfortable. No reason to roast him. “Once I get to the rec center someone will have a T-shirt I can change into.” Maybe even Denver, although his shirts were enormous on her, better suited for a nightshirt than to wear in public.
“I thought I was taking you home.”
“Denver wanted me to meet him there.” It was along the way, closer than her house. “Do you mind?”
“I was going back anyway. But what about your car?”
“You can’t look at it in this rain.”
“Why not?” He grinned at her. “I know I’m sweet, but I won’t melt.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“You don’t think I’m sweet?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Yes, you’re very, very sweet. And I appreciate the offer, I really do. But my car is on the street, not in the garage, and I can’t let you fiddle with it in this storm.”
His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “Okay, then how about tomorrow?” He cut off her reply to add, “That is, if Denver doesn’t see to it himself.”
“Maybe.” If possible, she’d get it figured out on her own without burdening either of them. “I hope this storm lets up soon.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Rain lashed the windshield, making the wipers almost useless, and wind buffeted the car, howling around them. He glanced at her, then fought another grin. “You might want to make use of the mirror before we get there. You’re looking a little...smudged.”
She pulled down the visor—and screeched. “Good heavens. I’m glad you told me.”
“It’s not that bad,” he said, while fighting a laugh.
“Yeah, for a clown!” Luckily she had makeup in her purse, and with Armie driving so slowly by necessity, she was able to do a few repairs. It wasn’t enough—she still looked a wreck—but it was better.
One of these days Denver would again get to see her at her best—independent, strong and put together.
Sadly, today was not that day.
* * *
AFTER MENTALLY WRESTLING his temper under control, Denver prepared his arguments, looking for sound reasons to refuse Pamela other than the obvious ones. He didn’t want her to know that he still harbored animosity.
He didn’t want her to know he felt anything at all for her—good or bad.
It was enough that he had to live with the damage she’d done to him. Because of her, his relationship with his father had been forever changed. He loved his dad. In most ways, he respected him.
But when it came to his second marriage, Denver had nothing but contempt.
His mood growing more frigid by the moment, Denver considered walking out on her. But she was so tenacious she might follow, and then he’d be back out in public with her again. “I’ll try giving Dad a call, but we both know he doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“No, a call isn’t enough.” She took a stance. “I’m having an intimate family party and that means you, dear son, need to be there.”
* * *
SOON AS SHE saw Armie pull up, Cherry raced out to meet him. Holding her purse close to her side, avoiding the deeper puddles, she bopped along the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. The light sprinkling rain, she decided, wouldn’t be so bad as long as she didn’t linger.
Unfortunately, halfway to Armie, the skies opened up and a deluge of freezing rain, carried on a high wind, drenched her to the skin.
Armie threw open the door. “Damn, Cherry, why didn’t you wait for me?”
As she jumped in, he handed her several napkins that she used to dry her face and throat, then she immediately wrapped her arms around herself to try to fight off the shivers. “What would you have done? Gotten drenched, too?”
“I have an umbrella and a windbreaker.”
“Oh.” Yeah, her umbrella was in her car. So dumb. “I’m getting your seats soaked.”
“They’ll dry.” Reaching into the backseat, he dug out the nylon windbreaker and handed it to her, then slowly pulled forward with the line of cars picking up kids.
“Bless you.” The jacket didn’t do much to help, but it was better than nothing. After she had it on, she buckled her seatbelt.
“Want me to turn up the heat?”
“No, that’s okay.” He was in no more than a T-shirt and looked comfortable. No reason to roast him. “Once I get to the rec center someone will have a T-shirt I can change into.” Maybe even Denver, although his shirts were enormous on her, better suited for a nightshirt than to wear in public.
“I thought I was taking you home.”
“Denver wanted me to meet him there.” It was along the way, closer than her house. “Do you mind?”
“I was going back anyway. But what about your car?”
“You can’t look at it in this rain.”
“Why not?” He grinned at her. “I know I’m sweet, but I won’t melt.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“You don’t think I’m sweet?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Yes, you’re very, very sweet. And I appreciate the offer, I really do. But my car is on the street, not in the garage, and I can’t let you fiddle with it in this storm.”
His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “Okay, then how about tomorrow?” He cut off her reply to add, “That is, if Denver doesn’t see to it himself.”
“Maybe.” If possible, she’d get it figured out on her own without burdening either of them. “I hope this storm lets up soon.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Rain lashed the windshield, making the wipers almost useless, and wind buffeted the car, howling around them. He glanced at her, then fought another grin. “You might want to make use of the mirror before we get there. You’re looking a little...smudged.”
She pulled down the visor—and screeched. “Good heavens. I’m glad you told me.”
“It’s not that bad,” he said, while fighting a laugh.
“Yeah, for a clown!” Luckily she had makeup in her purse, and with Armie driving so slowly by necessity, she was able to do a few repairs. It wasn’t enough—she still looked a wreck—but it was better.
One of these days Denver would again get to see her at her best—independent, strong and put together.
Sadly, today was not that day.
* * *
AFTER MENTALLY WRESTLING his temper under control, Denver prepared his arguments, looking for sound reasons to refuse Pamela other than the obvious ones. He didn’t want her to know that he still harbored animosity.
He didn’t want her to know he felt anything at all for her—good or bad.
It was enough that he had to live with the damage she’d done to him. Because of her, his relationship with his father had been forever changed. He loved his dad. In most ways, he respected him.
But when it came to his second marriage, Denver had nothing but contempt.
