Roar, p.44
ROAR, page 44
Kristoffer reached out to shake her dad’s hand while Pamela gave Monica a quick hug. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” Her embrace ended while Dad continued to grip and shake Kristoffer’s hand. To his credit, Kristoffer didn’t flinch at all.
“Only the cadets call me sir. It’s Bryce.” Pamela relaxed some. He didn’t ask people to call him by his given name unless he liked them.
“Bryce, it is. I am Kristoffer.”
She stood aside as Kristoffer pecked Monica on her upturned cheek before handing her the premium bottle of wine they’d stowed in their luggage on the flight home yesterday. Thankfully, it hadn’t been stolen or broken in transit.
“Nice to meet you, too, ma’am. Pamela and I chose a little something for you both to enjoy sometime at one of our wine-tasting stops in Sonoma.”
Her stepmother looked at the label, and her eyes opened wider. “Wonderful vintage. A Cabernet blend will be the perfect complement for the steaks, too, and this label tops anything we have on the wine rack. Chilled or room temperature?”
“Chilled—about 60 degrees would be ideal.”
Monica nodded with a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Dad stepped to the side and indicated for them to enter the living room. “Kristoffer, why don’t you come out and help me on the deck? How do you take your steak?”
“Medium, please.”
“And to drink? Beer? Wine? Cocktail?”
“Water would be perfect, thanks. With the long drive ahead, we’ll save the wine to enjoy with your wife’s fabulous cooking.”
Dad nodded. “Smart and responsible. I like that in my daughter’s…friends.”
Clearly, Dad already suspected more between them. How could he not, with Kristoffer’s hand at the small of my back when we came in?
Dad turned and led the way to the deck while Monica headed toward the kitchen. Pamela started to follow the men, but Kristoffer turned to her. “Why don’t you see if there’s anything Monica needs help with, Sprite?” He didn’t say the nickname loud enough for the others to hear, but she took this as a signal he was speaking to her as her Dom. Was he seeking out alone time with her dad already?
Because it wasn’t really a suggestion, she nodded obediently and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”
Her heart pounded as he walked away, but she turned to follow Monica down the hallway to the kitchen. She knew it was more from worry about what Kristoffer and Dad would talk about than spending time with her stepmom. They got along pretty well, especially in the kitchen. She’d forgotten that until the conversation with Kristoffer at Año Nuevo Park where they’d watched the elephant seals.
Monica closed the fridge and went to the oven to place the tray of hors d’oeuvres in to bake.
“What can I do to help?” Pamela asked, watching Monica set the bottle in the wine chiller to a temp of 60 degrees just as Kristoffer had suggested.
“Well, if you’d like to help, wrap these asparagus shoots in prosciutto. They only need five minutes to bake, so we’ll put them in when we know the men are closer to being ready to eat.”
Monica’s words made her worry that Dad was grilling Kristoffer instead of steaks, so her mind went back to the men outside. But Kristoffer could take care of himself.
Forcing her anxiety down, she washed her hands and went to work, letting the silence drag out until it became uncomfortable after a few minutes.
“How are Whitney and William doing?” She hadn’t seen her step-siblings since the holidays.
Monica’s continued silence caused her to look up to find tears in the woman’s eyes. Her chin quivered, making Pamela wonder what was wrong. Was someone ill?
“Whitney’s pregnant.”
Pamela didn’t get the impression those were tears of joy on the imminent grandmother’s face, but a baby on the way should be rejoiced no matter what. “Congratulations. When’s she due?”
“Six months. She wants to have a big wedding and invite all of our friends. How does she expect me to pull that off on such short notice? And you know how conservative this community is.”
Pamela wondered how well her choosing to spend the rest of her life with a legally married man would go over.
But this wasn’t about her. She reached out to stop Monica’s hands from breaking the ends off the asparagus, compelling Monica to stop and meet her gaze. “I’m sure she’ll be happy with any type of ceremony she has if it means joining her with the one she loves.” At least she hoped the two loved one another. Her parents had found themselves in a predicament that might have forced them to marry, but they’d seemed happy in the earlier years at least.
Pamela realized marriage wouldn’t be in the cards for her anytime soon—if ever. Would she miss sharing that moment with family and friends? No, not really. She and Kristoffer would figure out a way to honor their commitment when the time came, and if they wanted to celebrate with family and friends, they could host a reception following whatever kind of ceremony they decided upon.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, Monica, let me know. I should be stateside when the baby arrives.” She wouldn’t mention her interview tomorrow at Children’s, just in case it didn’t pan out.
“Whitney’s too young to be having a child. She’s still a baby herself.”
Pamela smiled. Whitney was twenty-eight years old. Heck, Monica had gotten pregnant at seventeen and again at nineteen by a high-school boyfriend who wasn’t able to handle the responsibilities of a wife or having two kids at a young age. And Pamela’s own mom had gotten pregnant at seventeen, too. Seventeen was what she’d call too young, not twenty-eight. Why was she so worried about her daughter?
Be sympathetic and understanding.
“How do you feel about them as a couple? Is her boyfriend good to her? Will he be able to provide for the physical and emotional needs of his new family if they marry?” Her questions seemed to shift Monica’s focus away from feeling sorry for herself and her daughter.
“She’s dated him for more than two years. We’ve met him a few times and liked him. And he has a civilian job on base that provides a steady income.” While that didn’t address how good a husband and father he would be, at least he wasn’t going to shirk his financial responsibilities.
“I think it’s wonderful they’ve chosen to have the baby and build a new life together. They seem to have everything in their favor.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Monica looked away, apparently at a loss for what else to do or say.
She didn’t sound convinced this was going to work out. “What’s worrying you?”
She met Pamela’s gaze again. “They hadn’t spoken of marrying until she found out she was pregnant. I know from experience that’s not a sound reason to marry someone. Whitney and William’s father was a disaster to be with.”
Pamela closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around her stepmom. “Keep the lines of communication open, and if anything seems to be wrong, don’t sweep it under the rug. It’s hard to predict who will or won’t be abusive. You and Dad raised Whitney to know she deserves better than an abusive man. She’s strong and self-assured. I don’t see her standing for that kind of treatment one minute past when it surfaces.”
Monica held on a little longer. When she pulled away, she reached for a linen towel and wiped her tears.
Pamela had no doubt Monica would embrace being a grandmother, once the initial shock wore off. “I hear grandchildren are so much more wonderful than children because you get to love on them and then send them home to their parents.”
Monica smiled and looked at the countertop. “We’d better get busy before they wonder what happened to us.”
As she wrapped the asparagus spears, Pamela wondered for the first time how Dad felt about becoming a grandfather. He’d raised Monica’s children as their father, and he had adopted both as his own. Whitney’s baby would very much be his first grandchild.
Truly, Pamela had never given much thought to having children—or providing her parents with grandchildren. Good thing, because rug rats probably wouldn’t be in the cards for her and Kristoffer. She had no qualms about having a baby outside of marriage as long as she was certain the relationship would last, but Kristoffer and Tori had chosen not to have kids. There was little reason to believe he’d suddenly want them now with his… girlfriend. What would her status be? Submissive, yes, but that was in private and only open in the lifestyle community. Close friends, as she’d introduced him to Dad and Monica, didn’t convey the relationship she hoped they were building together.
Something else to discuss with—
“Smells delicious.” She turned to find Kristoffer in the doorway. He entered and crossed the room to stand beside her. If her hands hadn’t been greasy with prosciutto, she’d have given him a hug. He seemed relaxed and carefree. She wondered what he and Dad had discussed, but wouldn’t ask here. There was plenty of time to talk on the ride home.
“I told you Monica’s an excellent cook. She taught me a lot of what I know.”
Her stepmother’s tears had dried up, and she beamed at Pamela. “Thank you, honey. I wish Whitney had enjoyed spending time in the kitchen as much as you did. Those are moments I’ll always treasure between the two of us. Who knows?” she asked as she dried her hands on a towel and arranged the wrapped spears on a cooking tray. “Maybe I’ll be able to enjoy doing that again with my granddaughter—or grandson.”
Pamela turned to Kristoffer. “Monica and Dad are expecting their first grandchild in six months.”
“Congratulations, Monica.” Kristoffer’s attention quickly returned to Pamela, perhaps trying to gauge whether she had any strong emotions about the news one way or another.
She smiled up at him. “I’ll be a favorite aunt. Okay, perhaps the only aunt, but that baby is going to be spoiled rotten with love if the Jeffreys have anything to say about it.”
Kristoffer stroked her back, and she leaned into his hand. “What can I do to help you ladies?”
“Not a thing,” Monica said, back to her old self and in command of her domain. “Men don’t belong in the kitchen. Pamela and I have everything under control here. Let Bryce know we’ll be finished here in about five minutes, if you don’t mind.”
He gave Pamela a look silently asking her to confirm she was okay, and she nodded almost imperceptibly, but apparently he was satisfied enough to smile before leaving the room. She felt cherished when he checked on her that way.
She and Monica spent the next fifteen minutes moving like a well-oiled machine with Monica arranging the appetizers on trays while Pamela placed the warm rolls she’d just pulled from the oven into a basket she covered with a linen napkin. Lifting that and the large salad bowl, she carried them to the dining room where the table had already been set. Kristoffer and Dad joined her, the latter carrying a covered platter and a plate of four foil-covered baked potatoes.
“The steaks smell wonderful, Dad.” He smiled as he expertly opened the bottle of Cab Monica brought in along with the appetizers. He poured each a glass. Kristoffer would probably have some wine now that it was being consumed with food.
“You seem to be a wine connoisseur, Kristoffer,” Dad remarked.
“One of the few hobbies I’ve been able to indulge in the past few years.”
Pamela searched Dad’s face to gauge his response, but he didn’t indicate whether he knew Kristoffer’s story yet or not. What had the two talked about outside?
Soon the four were seated, two each on the long sides of the table, with Kristoffer by her side and directly across from Dad.
After the platters and bowls were passed, Monica apologized for not having the appetizers ready to enjoy out on the deck.
“Nonsense. Everything’s delicious, Monica, Pamela.” The way Kristoffer acknowledged her small contribution in nearly the same breath brought a smile to her face.
“My girls are the best cooks ever.” Pamela acknowledged Dad’s compliment, too, with a nod.
“I can’t take credit for this feast, guys,” Pamela said. “Monica did all the prep and hard work.”
Conversation continued in a similar vein until Monica cleared the salad and appetizer plates and the steaks were served. Dad had a set of markers indicating doneness, and each was served a porterhouse cooked to a different temperature. Pamela noticed she and Kristoffer both chose medium.
“So, Kristoffer, tell me more about your work,” Dad prompted.
As Kristoffer launched into his usual low-key description of his work and even mentioned the equipment purchase project, Pamela watched Dad’s and Monica’s responses. They seemed genuinely interested, and she relaxed. What’s not to like about Kristoffer? Dad asked a few questions, especially concerning the type of jet Gunnar used on his missions, and Kristoffer surprisingly knew the answer, but he’d probably been responsible for the jet’s purchase.
In under a week, Kristoffer had survived meeting both of her parents and her stepmother. She glanced in Kristoffer’s direction and found him staring at her. He smiled warmly at her, and she sent one back to him. Was he aware of the direction her thoughts had gone? Skilled Dominants could interpret body language, and he’d shown numerous times he could read her like a book.
“Pamela, what’s been keeping you so busy these days?” Dad asked. “Or should I ask who?” Dad’s pointed look at Kristoffer made her blush.
“The project we worked on took up quite a bit of time. Of course, I had some restrictions due to my recovery period.” Hoping to steer him in a different direction, Pamela changed the subject. “Oh, I’m interviewing Monday at Children’s Hospital in Denver for a possible position on the plastics and reconstruction surgical team.”
“Does this mean you intend to stay put for a while?”
She shared her plans to spend one more month in Afghanistan to finish out her contract. “I’ll be glad when that’s behind you. Not to say I’m not proud of you, Punkin. There’s a lot of haters in this world, but knowing you’re doing something to make life better for some of the casualties…” He broke off and cleared his throat. “You definitely inherited a mix of your mother’s idealism and my practicality.”
His praise washed over her like a brilliant beam of sunshine. “You two passed down to me the best you each had to offer.”
The meal neared an end too quickly, but they had yet to say anything to Dad about what the two of them meant to one another. She’d follow Kristoffer’s lead but regretted not introducing him accurately at the front door. Now it seemed awkward to bring up their status again.
Kristoffer reached for his untouched wine glass and lifted it as if to propose a toast. Everyone followed suit and raised their glasses. In his sexy, deep voice, he said, “To Pamela, one of the bravest, kindest, and most proficient people I know—and the woman who has filled an enormous void in my life with her presence.”
Pamela’s vision blurred as she blindly clinked her glass with his and completed the toast with Monica and Dad. She blinked rapidly, not wanting to turn the end of their meal into a weepy mess. Glancing nervously over at Dad, she was met with his smile and a twinkle in his eye. He wasn’t the least bit surprised by Kristoffer’s announcement. Clearly, the two men had spoken on the deck.
She turned to face Kristoffer, furrowing her brows, but he only shrugged matter-of-factly. “I couldn’t very well ask you to be a significant part of my life without first knowing we would have your father’s approval, especially given our unique circumstances. Call me old-fashioned, but I spent a lot of my childhood being raised by a grandfather in the old country—and my late teen years under Gunnar’s authority.”
“Rest assured, Punkin, I warned Kristoffer what would happen if he ever hurt you in the slightest way.” While Dad winked at her, an edge to his words left no doubt the two had spoken quite seriously earlier. “You two have a lifetime to figure out what to make of your relationship. Don’t let anyone else’s standards dictate what’s right for you.”
She’d never thought of Dad as particularly liberal, but he certainly sounded open-minded about the prospect of his daughter living with a man outside of marriage. That lifted a great weight off her shoulders.
His voice grew husky as he finished. “As long as you’re happy, Pamela, you know I’ll be happy.” Perhaps the twinkle in Dad’s eye was unshed tears.
She stood and rounded the table to give him a hug. “I love you, Dad. And I love Kristoffer, too. He’s very good for me.”
Only Monica seemed as surprised as Pamela by this turn of events. “Well, does this mean we’ll be planning two weddings this summer?”
Pamela’s gaze shifted to Kristoffer, whose smile became stiff, but before he could speak, Dad said, “Monica, all you have to worry about is Whitney’s. I’ll explain it to you later.”
Kristoffer stood. “Monica, Bryce, if you’ll excuse us, Pamela and I have some things to discuss—in private. Pardon my manners, but please continue without us. This might take a while.”
“Take all the time you need, Kristoffer,” Dad said, grinning. No doubt in her mind that those two were going to become good friends—and accomplices.
She wasn’t sure if he meant they were leaving or what, but he eased her hand into his and guided her out onto the deck, releasing her to slide the door closed behind them. Once out of sight of the two in the dining room, he turned her toward him.
“This might be the longest speech I’ve ever made, so please bear with me.” His serious expression caused the blood to pound in her ears.
“Two months ago tomorrow, I walked into a classroom at The Denver Academy and found a beautiful ginger-haired sprite standing naked and proud before a group of her fellow students.” A flush heated her cheeks. She hadn’t remembered the date, but it pleased her that he had.
“I was wearing blinders before that, or I’d have noticed you in the boardroom the day you came to Gunnar asking for help for Fakhira. But suffice it to say, you definitely captured my attention that night.” He was quick to add, “And not because you were nude, although that didn’t hurt any.” He shrugged unapologetically, endearing himself to her even more. His humor helped relieve some of her tension, but he grew serious again.
