With Strings Attached (27 page)

“Yeah, a long time,” she said wryly. “Why’d you wait this long? You could have come to find us years ago.”

“I know. I don’t know why. I guess sometimes it’s hard to face our biggest mistakes. Our weaknesses. I just know I want to do it now. I want to give you something I should have given you years ago. I want to give you…” He stopped, seeming to struggle with words. “If all I can give you is money, then that’s the least I can do. I can never make up for what you went through. I can never be a father to you when you needed it, as a little girl, or a teenager, or when you went to college. I can’t go back in time, and that hurts, a hell of a lot, but I can do things right now. I know it’s hard to forget. And forgive. But if I could do something for you…please.” He met her eyes. “Please let me do this, Corey.”

She stared at him, her mind a confused jumble. Her breath came in short shallow spurts, her heart thudding beneath her ribs. She realized the dominant emotion she felt was…anger.

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head slowly. “No,” she said. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t want anything from you.” She rose to her feet and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go, Matt.”

She walked out of the coffee shop, emerging onto the street into the bright sunshine. Her eyes burned and stung and she dug into her purse for her sunglasses. She stared sightlessly across the street, past the row of palm trees, the boardwalk with people walking and jogging, across the beach to the brilliant blue ocean.

This was so messed up. She’d given up those dreams of her father coming to rescue her years ago. All those innocent, childish hopes and dreams that some day he would reappear and make her screwed-up life better, the scenarios she’d imagined when hiding in her bedroom because her mom was having a manic episode and scaring the life out of her, or the days she’d desperately tried to convince her mother to eat something when she hadn’t eaten for days because of depression. The day she’d realized no one was going to rescue her, that she was going to have to do that all for herself, was the day she’d banished those dreams. And now here he was.

She started walking, not even seeing where she was going, just moving, until she found herself at the corner. She turned around and shook her head. What was taking Matt so long? She started back to the shop. She wasn’t going to have to go in there and find him, was she? She paused outside the café. Then he appeared.

“You okay?” He set his hands on her hips.

“Of course. Wasn’t that crazy? I can’t believe he showed up like that.”

“Crazy.” But Matt’s face was somber. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

He took her hand and strode down the sidewalk, past the tourists who ambled in and out of the little shops, past overflowing pots of colorful flowers and shrubs, past a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk up against a building, a hat upturned in front of him. Corey paused, as she always did when she saw someone homeless, and dropped a bill into his hat. He thanked her politely.

“What took you so long in there?” she asked when they’d passed by the man.

“I talked to your dad for a few minutes.” He paused. “Why won’t you let him help you out? Financially.”

She frowned. “You know why. I don’t want anything from him.”

“He wants to help.”

She stopped on the sidewalk to look at him. The sunshine gilded his hair and he looked back at her with steady eyes.

“He gave me his card,” Matt continued. “I told him I’d talk to you about it.”

“Matt!” Heat built inside her. “Why would you do that?”

“He wants to help, Corey. Not that I understand it all, but I think he really cares.”

“He does not care! He walked away from us a long time ago. I’m not taking a thing from him.” She yanked her hand away from his and glared at him. “You know how I feel about this!”

“I know, I
do
know.” His voice was low and soothing, but it wasn’t easing her irritation and anger. Her muscles went rigid and impotent fury welled up inside her. “I just think you could at least think about it.”

“No!” She stared at him openmouthed, planted her hands on her hips. “No, I will not.”

“Look, I told him I’d…”

“You had no right to tell him anything.” Her voice rose and she knew she was nearly yelling, but heat built inside her, tinting her vision with a haze of red. People walking by them on the sidewalk glanced curiously at them, and she turned and started marching down the sidewalk toward her car.

“Corey. Wait.”

“Matt. This is none of your business. I can’t believe you talked to him and I can’t believe you told him you’d try to convince me—”

“I never said that.” Desperation edged his voice as he hurried after her. He took her hand again. “I said I’d talk to you about it, that’s all.”

“Why are you doing this? You’re pissing me off.”

“I can see that,” he muttered, holding tighter to her fingers when she tried to shake his grip off. “For God’s sake, Corey, let’s just talk about it. He said he has a lot of good ideas…”

“What?” She stopped again and stared at him in disbelief. “It’s
my
business!”

“No, no, I mean, ideas about how to help…”

“I am not talking about this. To you, or to him. Ever.” She stomped toward her car, gleaming in the hot sun. She flung open the door. “Jesus, Matt. I can’t believe you did that.”

“I just… Corey…”

She sent him the iciest look she could. “I thought you were my friend. Just butt out of my business, okay, Matt?”

She climbed into her car and slammed the door while Matt stood there grim-faced, hands on his hips, watching her drive away.

Chapter Eighteen

Matt sprawled out on the cool dry sand with a beer in his hand, listening to the thumping bass of Maroon 5 coming from speakers on the patio, right on the beach, the rise and fall of voices and laughter and the muted whoosh of waves onto the sand. A bonfire sent sparks twirling up into the black sky and several couples danced in the sand not far away. He watched Dylan and Corey dance, moving to the beat of the music in matching rhythm.

Dylan had dropped in on the Surf Sisters’ kids’ surfing class the last couple of Saturdays, and he’d thrilled the kids with his presence and charmed both the sisters as well. Now they were all friends, and Jaden and Bella had invited Dylan and Matt to their beach party, and they’d invited Corey so the three of them were there together. As they’d been much of the last few weeks. In bed and out of it.

Except tonight everything was different.

Corey was still pissed at him and an aura of frigid anger surrounded her, her eyes going frosty every time she looked at him. Shit.

And Dylan was leaving tomorrow.

Matt loved his buddy and was glad his foot had healed without problems, was glad he was going to be able to get back to his competition. But most of all, he was glad he was leaving.

Shame heated his insides and he took several big swallows of the cold lager he was drinking. He’d supplied a few cases of beer for the party. Not that anyone likely noticed what they were drinking. Corey smiled at Dylan, her face lit by the firelight, her body moving sensuously to the music. She lifted her arms, hips moving side to side, and Dylan smiled down at her. Matt didn’t want to want Dylan gone, but the last few weeks, things had been so…complicated.

He just wanted Dylan gone so things could go back to normal. With Dylan gone, she’d get over her anger at him and they’d be friends again—just him and Corey, friends. Yeah, with benefits. But friends.

He tipped the bottle to his mouth once again, the cold fizz tickling all the way down his esophagus. Corey and Dylan made their way back toward him, hand in hand, all cozy. They dropped to the sand on either side of him, laughing and a little breathless from dancing.

He’d been looking forward to the party tonight so Corey could have some fun. She’d been so disappointed after her meeting with the bank the other day. She’d been so hopeful that she was going to be able to get a business loan that would allow her to rent the store on Shore Drive, which, when they’d gone to look at it, had been perfect for her. A coat of paint, some display cases and a few other small renovations and it would be ready to go. But it wasn’t cheap. Nowhere on Shore Drive was cheap to rent, it was the prime commercial area in touristy San Amaro, with designer clothing and sunglass shops squeezed between high-end gift shops, art galleries and cafes. But the bank was still shy of lending money to a risky small business, so that hadn’t worked out. On top of that, the realtor had told them someone else was interested in the storefront property, and if she didn’t sign a lease by next week, someone else would get it. Prime spots like that didn’t come along very often. He’d watched her blink away tears of disappointment and straighten her shoulders and get back to making chocolate, but it had made his chest ache and he’d been sorely tempted to tell her who that other person was.

Any time he’d tried to broach the subject of loaning her money she’d gone all pissy and tight-lipped and that had been the end of that. Now after the shocking encounter with her father and his offer to help, and their subsequent argument, this party had lost a lot of its appeal.

But it was good that she was having fun at the beach party. Although, watching her all smiley and happy with Dylan sure as hell didn’t help his own mood.

“More reasons why surfboards are better than women,” Dylan said as if continuing a conversation they’d started while they were dancing. He held up one finger. “Surfboards don’t care about how many other surfboards you’ve ridden.” Another finger. “Surfboards don’t care about how many other surfboards you have.”

Corey giggled and Matt had to grin too.

“If you say bad things to your surfboard, you don’t have to apologize before you can ride it again. And…” He paused to lift another finger. “You can ride a surfboard as long as you want and it won’t get sore.”

“Dylan!” But she was laughing even though she reached over to punch his shoulder.

“Nice of the Surf Sisters to have a going-away party for you,” Matt said, clinking his bottle against Dylan’s.

“It’s not for me,” Dylan protested, but he smiled.

“Well, it kind of is. I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow, man.”

“Yeah, me either.” Dylan’s face tightened. He looked down at the sand. “You know…I was kind of thinking of staying a little longer.”

Matt’s eyebrows flew up. “What? But don’t you have to get to France for the next event?”

Dylan grimaced. “Yeah.”

Dylan hadn’t even been back on a surfboard yet, even though Matt had suggested going to Breaker Beach that afternoon to check out the waves. The competition started in two weeks and Dylan had already said he wanted to get there and get practicing. He was surprised Dylan hadn’t tried surfing weeks ago—it would be just like him to be impatient and jump back into things before he was even healed. But he hadn’t.

“Let’s go get another drink,” Dylan said, jumping to his feet. He pulled Corey up to. “You want another beer, dude?”

“Sure.”

Matt watched them walk away through the sand, once again hand in hand. A weird tightness in his chest made him rub there.

Someone dropped to the sand beside him and he glanced at Bella. She was a cute little blonde with spiky hair and a smooth tan.

“Hi, Matt.”

“Hey, Bella. How’s it going?”

“Good.”

“Great party. Nice night.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She moved a little to the music, then followed his eyes to where Corey and Dylan were walking away. A faint crease appeared between her brows. “Uh…you and Corey…are you together?”

He pursed his lips. “Nah,” he finally said, for some reason reluctantly. “Just friends. Why?” He eyed her. She was probably interested in Dylan and was disappointed to see him with single Corey.

She beamed at him. “Just curious. ’Cause, you know, we see you around together, like, all the time. Then I saw her with Dylan, and I thought maybe they had something going on, and maybe you and I could…” She hitched a bare shoulder. “Go out some time.”

He blinked. She was asking him out? Him? Not Dylan? Huh.

He didn’t even know what the hell to say to that. “Uh. Yeah. Maybe.”

Hell, that wasn’t very enthusiastic. He was going to insult her. He smiled. Then out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Corey stop moving and stand still, staring up at Dylan. Matt frowned. Dylan’s face wore an intense expression and he was holding both Corey’s hands in his. She shook her head and said something, which of course Matt couldn’t hear.

“How’s business at Laguna Dorada?” Bella asked.

Matt dragged his attention away from his friends and back to Bella. “Good. Great.” He forced another smile. “Hey, I need another beer. Looks like Dylan and Corey got waylaid. Wanna come with me?” He rose to his feet and extended a hand. She grabbed it and he pulled. She was so little he almost lifted her off her feet, and she ended up right up against him, soft curves and bare skin in a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top.

She gave a breathy laugh and clutched his shirt to regain her balance. “Oops!”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Matt glanced once more at Corey and Dylan, still standing there in a deep conversation although they’d moved into the shadows of a palm tree, then turned his back on them and slipped his arm around Bella’s small waist as they trudged through soft sand toward the bar that had been set up on the patio. The lights grew brighter as they neared the house, torches on each corner of the patio casting a flickering glow, and the music grew louder.