With a heavy heart, Merissa reached out and touched his wrist. She knew Armie genuinely cared for Bray, but the situation was similar enough to his own as a youth, it had to be an awful reminder. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s why I needed some time last night.” His big hand curled into a fist on the tabletop. “I was feeling seriously...”
“Violent?” she offered, imagining how a man with Armie’s heart and sense of honor would react to threats both against himself and a boy.
“Good word for it, yeah.” He stared at his coffee. “I didn’t want to bring that to you.”
So he’d tried to brush her off to protect her—at a time when he’d probably needed her most. “It’s understandable that you’d be furious. But, Armie, no matter what, I know you’d never hurt me.” Deciding there was too much space between them, Merissa left her seat and instead crawled into Armie’s lap. “Can I ask you something?”
He gave a rueful half smile. “Pretty sure I couldn’t stop you, even if I wanted to.”
True enough. Worried for the answer, she put her cheek to his shoulder and avoided his gaze. “You didn’t want me over last night, but you did want sex. Does that mean you planned to call another woman?”
He was quiet so long, Merissa got annoyed and sat up to glare at him.
Unfortunately, he glared right back. “Now you’re doubting my word?”
“What?”
“I told you I wouldn’t see any other women, but you just—”
“No I didn’t.” Okay, she had, but denial seemed like a good way to go. Merissa hugged him tight again for good measure. “I believe you... I really do.”
As if he couldn’t resist, Armie tucked her closer. He sounded pained when he admitted, “I don’t want anyone but you.”
Then she was doubly glad she’d forced her way in last night. “So.” Hoping to lighten his mood, she asked, “What were you planning to do before you cuffed me to the bed?”
She felt his body tense, then deliberately relax. “Truthfully? I’d planned to jog and maybe look for trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The kind where I could expend some energy.”
“Armie!” He couldn’t be that cavalier about risking his career. “You have an upcoming fight.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
His dry tone didn’t sit well with her. She frowned. “Then you should know that you can’t go brawling in the streets, risking injury or—”
“Right.” Cutting off further remonstrations, he tipped her back, looked at her mouth and kissed her. “Now you. What happened last night?”
This would require more coffee. She was reaching for her cup when a knock sounded on Armie’s front door.
He blew out a breath and stood her on her feet. “He got here quick.”
“Who?”
“Your brother.”
“What?”
“Just as well,” Armie said, as if she wasn’t standing there wearing nothing more than one of his shirts. “You can explain to both of us at once, instead of retelling it to him later.”
“You could have told me he was coming over!” Men. Dashing away, Merissa headed for the bedroom and more clothes.
Behind her, Armie laughed.
She was still untangling her jeans when she heard antagonistic voices—and neither of them belonged to Cannon.
* * *
LIKE A PUNCH to the chest, the sight of his father at the front door stole Armie’s air. For damn near a decade he’d imagined the day when he’d see his dad again. He’d planned out what he’d say, how he’d react. Over and over in his head, he’d rehearsed the whole damn thing.
Now, in this particular moment, none of that mattered.
All he felt was crushing resentment.
He started to slam the door, but Mac Jacobson got his size-twelve foot in first.
“Is that any way to greet your dad?” his father asked.
Jaw muscles ticking, Armie said, “We disowned each other years ago, so get lost.”
Since his father didn’t remove his foot, Armie couldn’t slam the door in his face. But that didn’t mean he’d let the man in. Bluffing, he said, “Move it or lose it.”
“You always were a complete bitch.”
Okay, so breaking his foot didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. Armie was considering it when from behind him, he heard a small sound.
He looked back over his shoulder and there stood Merissa, a million questions and just as many emotions on her face. Barefoot, still wearing his shirt but now with jeans, she watched him.
Mac took advantage of his momentary lack of attention and shoved his way in.
“Shit,” Armie muttered.
Nearly as tall as him, with the same bulky shoulders, Mac Jacobson could intimidate a lot of people. But Armie had gone toe-to-toe with him as a kid. Now, as a man, nothing about his father impressed him, not his size, his strength, and sure as hell not his blood connection.
“I’m telling you for the last time—”
Mac pulled a worn cap off his head, showing dirty hair in need of a cut. He nodded toward Merissa. “Didn’t realize you had company.”
Stepping in front of him, Armie blocked his view. “Out.”
That made Mac laugh. “Shit, boy. You afraid of me seeing your girlfriend?” His mouth tweaked into a nasty smile. “Or am I interruptin’?”
“She’s not my—”
“Armie?”
Jesus, no. He wished her anywhere but here with his estranged father in the room. No good would come of Mac knowing Merissa was important to him. His father would use her like a pawn, uncaring if she got hurt in the bargain.
Without looking at her, Armie asked, “Will you wait for me in the other room?”
At almost the same time, Mac pushed past him, hand extended. “I’m Armie’s pops. And you are?”
Armie jerked him back around. “She’s none of your goddamned business.”
Unimpressed with his rage, Mac said approvingly, “She’s a tall drink, isn’t she?”
Armie didn’t want to maim his father in front of Rissy. He didn’t want his father to see him losing his shit, either.
And he absolutely didn’t want Mac Jacobson to get any info on Rissy at all.
“She,” Rissy said, “respects Armie’s wishes. So I’ll be in the other room.”
God love the girl. Feeling empowered by her faith, Armie turned to the man who’d tried to bury him with lies. “You’re going to get out now, or I promise I’ll throw you out—and I won’t be gentle.”
“How about we hold up on that.” Choosing that inauspicious moment to arrive, Cannon stepped in and clicked the door shut behind everyone. He stared down at Mac. “Armie might not care, but I’m curious why you’re here.”
“You’re right,” Armie told everyone. “I don’t care.”
Cannon smiled at him. “Because you’re not yet thinking about connections—but I am. So how about you let me handle this?”
Armie almost laughed, it was so screwed up. He’d never deny Cannon, not if he could help it. And Cannon, damn him, knew it.