Secrets from Her Past: Scandalous, Book 2 (12 page)

“I’d like a sunroom built on to my house,” she told him, quirking a brow. “I figure since you’re nearly finished here, I’d go ahead and reserve you.”

Reserve him? Like he was her next meal? Dylan resisted the urge to shudder.

“I appreciate that, Mary, but I’m pretty booked at the moment. I’m not only working here, but Carl and Inez’s house had some damage to it from the storm the other night. I’m pretty busy with that right now.”

Her smile faltered for a brief moment before she tilted her head. “Doesn’t Corrine live there?”

Dylan nodded. “Yes.”

“Surely she can find someone else to finish the job.”

“More than likely, but since I live next door and we’re old friends, I’m doing the work for her. I don’t mind getting you an estimate once I’m finished with that job, if you’d like.”

“You can come out anytime and start. An estimate won’t be necessary.” Her eyes held his and her smile became near sinister. “You’re the only man I want for the job.”

Lucky him.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done working on Cori’s house.”

“Cori?”

“I’ve always known her as Cori,” he defended.

Mary shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t blame her for changing her name, then. Cori sounds so…trite and boring. Not fitting at all to the glamorous lifestyle she’s used to. I’m sure she’ll hightail it out of this town soon, once she becomes bored.”

“Actually, she’s staying for a while, until her mother is fully back to good health.”

Dylan didn’t miss the hatred that rolled off of Mary whenever Cori was mentioned. He also had never forgotten the encounter he’d heard between Mary and Cori.

“She’s been looking for a part-time position,” he told her. “I don’t suppose you have anything here for her, do you? It would be nice for her to have something near her parents.”

“I have nothing.”

The statement left no room for question or argument. Apparently Mary was a wee bit jealous of the town celebrity.

“Just how close are the two of you?” she asked. “You’re not only working on her house, you see her parents every day and you live next door. Oh, and you still call her by her given name.”

Dylan smiled. “At one time she was my best friend.”

“And now?”

Pushing away from the door jamb, Dylan had had enough of this conversation. “Now she’s a friend in need of some help and I intend to be there for her. I’ll make sure you get an estimate before I begin work at your place. I’d hate for you to not know what you’re getting into.”

Dylan walked away before he had to listen to Mary say one more snarky remark toward Cori. No, Cori may not be a saint, but she was human and she was trying. Added to that, the woman had had a rough time lately and coming back home couldn’t have been easy.

And since when was he her biggest cheerleader and defender?

Obviously he’d been listening to Evie…or it could be the amazing sex. He hated to think he was that shallow, but he was a man, after all.

He drove home, wondering how the man he’d hired to work on Cori’s house had done. Occasionally Dylan pulled in a trustworthy helper, and seeing as how he couldn’t be at the therapy center and Cori’s home at the same time, he’d needed reinforcements.

As he pulled into his drive, he was glad to see all the damage—not just the tree, but house debris—was cleaned up and the holes were at least boarded up, and the framing of a new porch and roof were in place.

Dylan parked in his drive, but walked across the yard toward the back door, seeing as how Cori’s front door was out of commission.

Just as he raised a hand to tap, Cori squealed and he didn’t hesitate to yank open the storm door and walk right into her kitchen.

“What happened?” he asked, looking around the kitchen, which looked as if an amateur chef had gone berserk.

Cori jumped around and held one hand within her other one. “Dylan. What are you doing here?”

He took a step forward. “I was coming by to check on the house and I heard you scream.”

She moved toward the faucet and held her hand beneath the water. “I burned my hand on that cast iron skillet. I was careless.”

He reached beneath the water to hold on to her wrist. The jump in her pulse beneath his fingertips shouldn’t have made his speed up too. For crying out loud, he’d had this woman in his bed and he still found himself turned on by the slightest things.

“It’s pretty red, Cori.” He shut off the water and pulled a paper towel off the roll. “Have a seat and I’ll get you some ice.”

“I need to turn that cornbread,” she insisted. “Can you hold the handle with a potholder?”

He smiled. “New recipe?”

“I can’t let it go to waste. This day will not be ruined. I can at least control what happens in my own kitchen.”

She flopped down in the wooden seat at her breakfast table and looked down at her wet, red hand. “Damn, this hurts.”

Dylan searched drawers and cabinets until he found a plastic bag to put some ice in. He grabbed the dishtowel on the counter and wrapped the bag.

“Here, hold this on there.”

She carefully took the ice pack and placed it on her hand, wincing only a little when it came in contact.

Dylan crouched down in front of her and helped her balance the towel. “What happened? You’re not klutzy or careless in the kitchen.”

Her eyes found his and she shrugged. “Guess my mind was preoccupied.”

“Anything I can help with?”

She stared down at him for a moment like she wanted to take him up on the offer, but true to stubborn, independent Cori, she shook her head.

“Really, all I need you to do is flip that cornbread so the bottom doesn’t burn.”

Dylan wanted to argue, but what would be the point? She’d open up when she wanted to, and not a second before. That was lesson number one he should’ve learned about her. Even as a teen, Cori never opened up about things that bothered her. She was always so determined to handle everything herself and not burden those she cared for…at least, that had always been her excuse.

Dylan went to the pan of sizzling cornbread and grabbed a potholder to grip the hot handle. “Do I just use this spatula?” he asked.

“Yeah. Lift it around the edges first to make sure it’s not sticking and then try to flip it really fast so it doesn’t break.”

Dylan laughed as he followed her instructions. “You know the odds of me messing this up are pretty high?”

“I have faith in you,” she whispered.

His hand froze on the spatula a second before he continued. Faith. How long had it been since he’d had faith in someone other than his sister? How long had it been since he’d had faith in Cori herself?

She was obviously holding out that proverbial olive branch and he wanted to grab it, he truly did. But holding his heart close had to be his top priority.

“I never got to ask you how your day with Evie went,” he said, obviously dodging an uncomfortable topic. “Did she look beautiful in her gown?”

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Cori’s face soften, a wide smile spreading across her face. “She was absolutely stunning. Vin is one very lucky man.”

Dylan gripped the handle through the potholder and tried to flip the cornbread with a move he’d seen done in countless movies and TV shows. Unfortunately when he did the toss in the air and tried to get the heavy pan back under the bread, he miscalculated and it went to the floor where it landed with a thud and broke into several large, chunky pieces.

He almost hated to look over at her, but when he did, it wasn’t anger or even fear he saw looking back at him, but amusement. And before he knew it, Cori was laughing. Head thrown back, mouth wide, hysterically laughing.

Dylan set the pan back down on the stove. “I truly thought that would work.”

With eyes moist from tears caused by laughing, Cori shook her head. “When I saw what you were going to attempt, I sort of figured this would happen. You’re lucky I have more ingredients to make another batch. This time you’re going to help and follow my instructions to the letter.”

Dylan groaned. “Oh, come on. You know how terrible I am in the kitchen.”

Cori came to her feet, still holding the ice pack on her palm. “Too bad, slick. You ruined my dinner. Now, if you help out without all the grumbling, I may let you stick around to eat with me.”

A home-cooked meal by someone who actually knew what she was doing? And not only that, but staying in the company of the one woman he couldn’t get enough of? He’d be a moron to turn down this win-win proposition.

“Deal,” he told her. “But next time, I’ll hold the handle and you can flip it.”

Her smiled widened, nearly punching him straight in the gut. “Of course.”

As they started to prepare another batch of cornbread, not from the box as he would’ve done, Dylan’s mind started working and the epiphany he had scared the hell out of him. The risk was great, but he knew no successful person ever got anywhere in life without taking great, gut-wrenching risks.

Not only would he be putting a good chunk of money on the line, he’d be risking his reputation and his heart…again.

But the look in Cori’s eyes, that happy smile he’d missed seeing, made this life-altering decision worth every gamble he was about to take.

Chapter Eleven

Corinne had to admit she was impressed with how well Dylan had followed directions in the kitchen. He never once complained, but of course he’d been promised a free meal and men were all the same in that category.

Once they’d eaten and he’d loaded the dishwasher—at his insistence, because of her hand—they settled into her living room.

“That really was amazing, Cori,” he said, taking a seat beside her on the couch.

“You did most of the work.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do had you not been there.”

She smiled at him. “Let’s just agree that we make a great team.”

His eyes held hers. “I used to always believe that. Even hung on to it for a few years.”

Well, hell. She certainly didn’t want to turn this evening into some trip down memory lane which would no doubt turn into either her lying or her crying. Either option was off-limits.

“I didn’t mean to make you think of the past,” she told him, folding her legs beneath her on the couch.

“Your words didn’t make me think of the past, Cori. Being with you, seeing you, hearing your name, it all makes me think of the past. I never had closure. I don’t know where to put all those emotions or feelings.”

He cursed, looked away and ran a hand down his face. “I sound like a damn woman.”

Corinne smiled. “It’s me, Dylan. You can still say anything to me. I won’t judge. God knows, I know what it’s like to be on the wrong end of judgment.”

He focused his eyes back on hers as he eased back into the sofa. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

Her throat nearly closed, her chest felt like someone was squeezing it. Most of the questions he had in his mind, she knew she could not answer. Well, she could, but it would kill him.

“If I can,” she told him.

“Why did you have to leave? All those years ago? Why did you run? I know you were running from something, but I never could figure out what. The timing…right after my parents’ death. It was just too much to lose everything I knew, everything I loved.”

Corinne glanced away, unable to look him in the eye and lie to his face. “I had no choice. There was a family issue and my parents thought it would be safer if I went to live with my father’s cousin in New York.”

“But what was so bad, so detrimental that you had to leave without a proper goodbye, or any explanation?”

Flashes of that night played over and over in her head as they’d done so many times in the past. Images of a drunken man showing up on her parents’ doorstep. A man her parents didn’t think she’d seen, but she had, from the upstairs when she’d peeked around the corner to look down. A man who’d turned her entire world into a waking nightmare.

“The reason I left is between me and my parents,” she told him, swallowing back tears and shaking her mind of the mental picture she had of the devil himself. “All I can say is the secret is best kept in the past. Too many people could be hurt if it came out.”

Dylan moved closer to her, reaching out to place a big, strong hand on her thigh. “Who could be hurt? You? Because I swear on my life, Cori, no matter what’s happened between us in the past, you have to know I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

Her eyes met his and she knew from the sincerity in his tone, the worry in his gaze that he would truly never let harm come to her. Which made this all the more hard to discuss. He could never know the lengths she’d gone to protect him from the truth. He would not only hate her forever, he would be utterly and completely broken if he knew the truth behind his parents’ death.

“It’s not just me who would be hurt,” she told him, placing her hand on top of his. “So many people I care about. I’m begging you, Dylan. Don’t ask about that night again.”

His eyes searched her face and she knew he wanted answers, she knew he’d never have closure on their breakup because of her silence, but she knew no other way.