Shameless (St. Martin Family Saga) (2 page)

They sat quietly for about fifteen minutes. Rigor mortis would soon set in, and Cory didn’t want Brook hugging Randy when it did. She hadn’t moved since he’d placed his arm around her waist. To avoid startling her, he spoke softly into her ear. “I think we should talk about what you want to do next.”

She turned her head to meet his eyes. “You mentioned a pecan grove?”

Cory smiled. “Yes, I think Randy would like it there; it’s my favorite part of the property. Do you want to take him there now?”

Brook turned to look at the lifeless dog that lay across her lap. She whispered, “Okay.”

Cory stood. “Let me get Randy, and you can help me gather some tools.” He immediately loaded Randy into the Mule 4x4 and used a blanket to cover him.

He walked back in and directed Brook, just to give her something to focus on.

“Get the rake and the lanterns from that table.” Cory motioned toward the table, and he turned to grab the shovel. He hoisted a bag of sodium hydroxide onto his shoulder. “And take a couple of those gray blankets from the shelf behind the table too.” They loaded all the items into the Mule and Cory drove to the garage. “I’m just gonna get some water.” He leaped from the Mule.

Leaning against the refrigerator was a spear with white ribbon dangling from the tip. Cory snagged the stick to mark Randy’s grave.

He drove them to the back part of the property and unloaded the tools. He should have changed clothes, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Brook alone with her thoughts and her dead dog. It was hot, so he loosened his tie and removed it. His shirt followed. He started on the job of digging Randy’s grave.

2

B
rook couldn’t believe
the selflessness of this man. She’d walked into the first clinic she came to after discovering her vet’s office was closed. She’d heard Cory was a womanizer and in general a pig toward women, had in fact witnessed his poor behavior on two separate occasions herself. So his sensitivity with her didn’t add up. He seemed to genuinely care about her and her dog.

Bronzed brawny muscle rippled across his shoulders and chest as he used the shovel to dig Randy’s grave. Whenever he jumped onto the shovel, digging deep into the ground, his trousers slid down to reveal a little more abdominal—and have mercy—more pelvic muscle. Brook watched in full euphoric bliss as moisture flooded her core. The man was any woman’s dream. For a moment Brook forgot about Randy. It was a welcome change.

Looking out across the acres of St. Martin land, Brook wondered what it must have been like to grow up with such beauty. The abundance of land was a luxury that would have given Cory a childhood like no other. He would have spent countless lazy summer days out here without a care. She smiled when she thought of him as a dusty-headed child climbing trees and wreaking havoc on any reptile or little girl who crossed his path. He had six siblings, including Logan, so Cory would never have been alone, as she was now.

Manly grunts drew her back to the task at hand. She continued to watch Cory. Once the hole was large enough, Cory gently lowered Randy into his eternal place of rest. He was wrapped in a blanket. Cory looked to Brook and asked, “Do you want to say anything?”

Brook squatted down and placed her hand on Randy’s stiff body. “I love you, D.” She stood and nodded to Cory. He opened a bag of white powder and poured it over the blanket that enveloped Randy and then covered him with dirt. Once the hole was filled, Cory retrieved a wooden post with a white ribbon from the 4x4. He used a hammer to drive it into the ground.

Brook stood frozen as she thanked God for the kindness of this man. He’d taken her bad situation and made it bearable. She’d felt utterly hopeless when she’d walked through the clinic doors. If she’d had to go home alone after putting Randy down in an impersonal manner, she would have been in a deep depression for days. Instead she was hopeful as she stood next to Randy’s marker with the white ribbon. Hopeful and pleased that she would have a place to visit. For that she would always be thankful for Dr. Corrigan St. Martin.

The last time she’d experienced the love of family was when she was nine. That was the year her parents died. She’d longed for a companion, a sister or brother she could confide in. She’d almost gotten her wish. It had been so close. If she closed her eyes she could picture her mother’s large round belly. She had been two weeks past due. They’d all been so excited about the baby. They’d been the three musketeers, but were ready for a fourth.

Brook had been in a science class, happily messing with test tubes and colored liquids, when they came for her. It was midmorning. Her parents had died in a car wreck—dead on impact. She’d been sent to the East Coast to live with her uncle and his wife, a couple she’d never met. She wished she could still claim that pleasure. She shook off a shudder, turning her attention back to Cory. He was making the burial site neat, making sure, she knew, that animals wouldn’t dig into it.

She’d moved back to Whisky Cove as an adult because it was where she’d lived with her parents. It was the last place she’d been happy. She’d hoped to find happiness again in the little town, and so far it hadn’t disappointed her. The town was a good base for her dog rescues. By next week she’d have a full house. Yet if she had the space, she could do so much more. She looked over the sweep of land in front of her. She could do a lot with a place like this. Her mind replayed the image of the stable. Yes, plenty of space for animals, though she hadn’t seen any horses in the large space. Maybe the St. Martin’s didn’t have any these days. But Cory was a veterinarian. Surely he could see the necessity of letting her stable some rescue animals. She’d figure out a way to work her idea into a conversation.

Cory loaded the tools back into the 4x4. Then he pulled out a bottle of water, and Brook stared, dazed, as he tilted his head back and drank it down in three large gulps. He looked like a model from a TV commercial, hired for his physical perfection. His bronzed muscular chest and torso were made more prominent by his provocative posture. Water or sweat, or a mixture, sluiced down his chest between his pectorals. Brook’s tongue swept her top lip as she inhaled steady and deep.

Cory’s head popped back up, but she was too slow to put on a neutral face. The right side of his lip quirked in a sexy smirk, and a lone brow rose, indicating he’d caught her watching and didn’t mind that she did. Brook pivoted and stared into the pecan grove. She heard Cory laugh. He joined her and offered her a bottle of water.

Heavy drops of moisture landed on her arms, and without warning a deluge dumped on them. Brook was soaked through in seconds. She turned her face toward the heavens and let the rain wash away her sadness. Cory joined her, turning his face to the sky.

When the lightning and thunder started, Cory said, “We’re miles away from the house.” He looked at the 4x4 and out across the land. He grabbed blankets and a lantern from the vehicle. “Follow me.” He led them into a thicket of pecan trees and didn’t stop moving until they stood before a tall structure that resembled a beach house. It was all wood and perched high above the ground on stilts. A porch and windows wrapped around the sides.

“What is it?”

“Deer stand. We’ll be safe here; it’s outfitted with a lightning rod.” He pointed to the stairs. “Climb.”

Some fancy deer stand. Brook guessed that the St. Martin boys had done a lot of playing in it when they were young.

When she reached the top, Cory reached around her and opened the door. Her canvas shoes were soaked and rubbed her heel, so she toed them off by the door as she took in the deer stand. The inside was not as fancy as the outside—just unfinished plywood walls and floors, and an old couch the sole piece of furniture in the large space.

His body was soaked and so was hers. Cory stood shirtless, with the weight of the water drawing his pants low enough that Brook got a look at the thin trail of light brown hair that started under his navel and ran narrowly down his veined and muscular lower abs, leading into his trousers. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, which had her focusing on her breathing; it was erratic. But she couldn’t control it. And she couldn’t draw her eyes away from the bewitching vision before her. He was the most perfect male specimen she’d ever seen.

When her gaze found his eyes, the realization that he was focused on her chest caused her senses to go haywire. Her nipples hardened, feeling tight and achy. She looked down to see them poking at her T-shirt. She instinctively crossed her arms to shield them from his view.

Dilated dark eyes stared at her. Brook couldn’t look away. His heated eyes seemed to be circled by a glowing ice ring, and she didn’t know if she wanted to shiver or melt.

He cleared his throat.

“So you work at the brewery on weekends.”

As she thought of her job at the brewery, she recalled his amorous activities the last night she had been there. She nodded and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She attempted to flatten out her features. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a snake.”

She shrugged and looked down as she traced designs on the floor with her toe. “I saw you in the bathroom.” She paused her tracing and threw him a glance. “Having sex with Lucy.”

His eyes grew large as he gasped. “Shit! I knew someone had opened the door, but my back was to it and the woman I was with…”

“Lucy? The one who told me to F-off?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “God, it was you.” He shook his head, then muttered, “Why the hell did it have to be you?”

She blushed. “I needed to use the bathroom. You should have locked the door.”

He tilted his head and audibly exhaled. “You should have knocked.”

Brook’s eyes met his, and she lifted her brow.

“What? Why are you always glaring at me?”

She plucked an imaginary piece of lint from her shorts. “I’m not glaring.”

“You are so glaring.”

“Were you having sex with your client in the exam room before you saw me?”

His eyes grew wide. He choked off the breath he was inhaling. “How did you know?”

“A combination of factors.” She counted them off on her fingers. “The repetitive noises for one. You were also straightening your tie when you opened the door. And Mrs. Simms was patting herself down, preening in a post-coital glow.”

“Uh, you know her?”

“Her husband is one of my regular customers. I actually bought my home from him—rent to own. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have a home of my own.”

“You’re judging me then.”

She held up her hands in denial. “Not judging.”

“Then what is it you’re doing? Why even ask about it? Why even tell me about her husband? Are you jealous?” His voice was defensive and loud.

Her head jerked up. His hands were clenched at his sides.

“I believe you should have all the facts,” he told her.

Brook stared unwaveringly into his eyes. Right, he was going to tell her why everything he did was okay. She prepared herself for his version of the guilty man’s lament.

“Evidently he’s not fucking her well enough at home. We are both consenting adults. It’s not my business why she seeks sex outside of her marriage. Besides, if she didn’t do me, she’d just get it somewhere else.”

Brook gasped and her body went numb. Not only was he adulterer, but also he was shameless about his behavior. It didn’t add up—he was two distinct versions of himself. The animal loving, caring man and the careless, shameless adulterer.

“You know I’m fucking right!”

Brooks hands covered her ears. “Will you please stop shouting and using that word.”

He whispered, making fun of her, no doubt, “You certainly are self-righteous.”

He stomped out and slammed the door, causing the shelter to rattle around her. A chill raced down Brook’s spine. This was a different man from the one she’d experienced earlier. Where he’d been gentle and caring, now he was aggressive and on the defensive. She wondered how such vibrant personalities lived in one person. Mostly she wondered why he acted the way he did with women.

She stepped to the window and watched him head toward the 4x4. Her scalp tingled as she looked out across the landscape. A muffled crackle broke through the dark clouds hovering above, and a whisker of energy grew into a grand display as she watched. Frantically leaning into the glass, she searched for Cory and saw him crouch on the ground. He shouted, “Shit!” and then raced back toward the shelter. Brook listened to him scramble up the ladder, and then he slammed open the door and stepped inside.

Brook ran to him. “Oh my God.” She ran her hands over his chest and face. “Are you okay?”

He grasped her hands firmly, halting her actions—his gaze hot on her. “What are you doing?”

The heat and heavy breath from his mouth landed on her cheeks.

Brook tugged her hands, but he wouldn’t release them. He didn’t even blink, but his chest rose and fell unsteadily. Intense heat radiated from his body and reached toward hers.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “It’s not a good excuse, but I really didn’t know.” He looked down at their entwined hands. “Look, I’ll make it my mission to obtain facts first. Fact number one will be marital status. Okay?”

Brook nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t owe her anything. The fact that he was willing to make a change because of her, because of a passing look, did funny things to her insides. He headed to the couch, pulling her with him. They sat on opposite ends.

Cory lit a lantern. “Are you cold?”

Even though the temperatures were mild, Brook’s wet clothes were chilling her. Cory shook out a blanket and tossed it over her lower half. They sat listening to the storm. A booming thunderclap landed near the shelter, shaking the building and rattling the window. It was so loud Brook’s head vibrated. She screamed and when Cory held his arms open, she scampered into his lap and buried her face in his chest.

Given her nose was at the level of his neck, and therefore at a pulse point, Cory’s scent was strong. Smells of leather, hay, and sweaty male hit her senses and caused her libido to tingle. His scent drew her in like a bee to pollen. Her nose pressed to his skin, and she inhaled deeply. Then she just naturally nuzzled at his neck. His pulse against her lips had her imagining what it would be like to graze her teeth against the vein in his neck. A husky growl sounded from him, from deep within his throat. That was when Brook realized she’d acted on her thought.

Head lowered in embarrassment, she whispered, “I can’t believe I just did that. I’m sorry.”

With his finger under her chin, Cory raised her head. “Hey, will you do something for me?”

His eyes were constricted orbs of smoked steel. They were mesmerizing. She nodded.