What the hell? How was that not supposed to annoy him? “So because you’re still pissed, I can’t react to you treating me like a wuss?”
“Yes!”
Huh. She didn’t even deny the wuss part, meaning she must’ve still been plenty pissed regardless of how she’d covered it.
Going for the most expedient way to smooth things over, Denver offered his hand and was pleased when, after only a brief reluctance, she took it. “First, I’ve been keeping an eye out. No one is following us. But even if he did, my house is pretty secure.”
For far too long, she mulled that over, then gave a nod. “Okay.”
Gently, he squeezed her hand, knowing by that curt answer that he had a long way to go yet. “Second, but more important, I really am sorry about embarrassing you today.”
Nothing.
“I’ve never been such a possessive jerk. Not blaming you, but damn, you leave me half-cocked.”
She choked.
“Not just with lust, but...with everything. I trust Armie, I really do.”
“Of course you do.”
“Pretty sure of that, huh?”
“Of course.” She twisted in the seat to face him. “When I was sick at the hotel, it didn’t bother you when Armie loomed over me.”
“He didn’t—”
“He loomed, Denver.” She fidgeted before adding, “And he touched me.”
Denver frowned.
“No place important,” she clarified before he could give himself an aneurism, “but still, it about stopped my heart having two big, gorgeous hunks—”
His body clenched with jealousy.
“—treating me with kid gloves.”
Eyeing her amused expression, he accused, “Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”
And she laughed. Actually laughed—at him. “Misery loves company. But my point—”
“There’s a point?” Because it seriously just felt like payback.
“—is that you trust Armie, so it must be me you don’t trust.”
That put the brakes on his annoyance. Damn, he had given that impression, which meant he’d have to give an explanation, too.
And that would involve baring part of his soul. Shit.
“Denver?”
“I trust you. Completely.” Since he didn’t totally understand it himself, he had a hard time explaining his reaction to her. “It’s not about that.”
Tipping her head to study him, she said, “Armie is outrageous, no one could deny that.” She held Denver’s hand with both of hers. “But he’s only friendly with the women he won’t sleep with. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Armie did a lot of superficial teasing with female friends. Only Yvette was different. She and Armie had connected on a more basic level, making them beyond mere friends, but nowhere near anything intimate.
“You’re not suggesting I stop talking to him, are you?”
“God, no.” He liked that she was so well accepted in their group. The other fighters recognized her as someone special, not just a casual hookup. That mattered.
Looking stern, she said, “Good. I adore you, Denver, but—”
She adored him?
“—I won’t be bossed around, and I won’t let you dictate to me.”
Carver had likely done enough of that to last her a lifetime. “I wouldn’t want to.” He felt ridiculous saying it, but what the hell? “I adore you, too. Just as you are. I don’t want you to change.”
“Really?” Her smile nearly blinded him. “You adore me?”
Such a stupid word. To blunt it, he added a few he preferred. “Adore, enjoy, respect, lust after—”
She laughed.
After another squeeze, he released her hand to put both of his on the wheel, knowing he’d need them there while sharing a few truths. Just making the decision to tell her everything left him unsettled and raw with unfamiliar emotions.
He didn’t want to drag it out, so he jumped right into the telling. “Not long after Pamela and my dad married, she came on to me.”
Cherry stared at him slack-jawed. “How old were you?”
Tension sank in to his muscles, making his shoulder hurt like a sonofabitch, strangling him a little. “Twenty.”
“A boy.”
“No.” He wouldn’t let her sugarcoat things, especially when she hadn’t yet heard the whole story. “I was a grown man. Dad knew it.” He hated the memories. “So did Pamela.”