With Strings Attached (4 page)

“Nah. They split up and moved away. But he still thinks of this as home, I guess. He’s staying with me for a while.”

“That’s nice. You two will have lots to catch up on. I’m sorry to hear about his foot, though. Will he be okay?”

“He says so.” He took the cup of coffee his mom handed him, already with the milk and sugar added as he liked. “Thanks. So. Uh. Tell me more about Corwin.”

They chatted, Matt trying to keep an open mind despite the discomfort he felt at having interrupted something like that, and the worry he felt about this guy his mom was involved with. There were some crazy-ass creeps out there, and Corwin had better not be some loser taking advantage of a lonely, well-off widow.

When Corwin walked into the kitchen, Matt’s worries only increased. Sure, he was polite and seemed nice, shaking hands with a firm handshake. He was dressed in a pair of expensive-looking jeans and a golf shirt. He was probably about Mom’s age, with some silver in his dark hair, a pair of reading glasses perched low on his nose, and he looked in good shape. But he was smooth…almost too smooth. Matt studied him as he kissed Mom’s cheek and poured himself a cup of coffee as if he was completely at home there.

Hell. This was just…well, hell.

It was true that Jenna and Neve had often said they wished their mom would find someone and remarry, but somehow Matt had never thought it would actually happen. It had been so long and she’d never even dated. Why now? What was going on with her? And somehow he’d thought if she ever did find someone, it would be someone they all knew and approved of.

He finished his coffee and stood. “Well, if your toilet’s okay, I’ll get going. I was going to pop over to Jenna’s and see how she’s doing.”

“Oh, that would be great,” Mom said. “I talked to her yesterday and she sounded like she was having a meltdown. Corwin and I are taking the kids to the beach later to give her a break.”

But hey…that was his job. Matt frowned. He gave a short nod. “Good. That’s good. I’ll go see if she needs anything done around the house.”

He drove across town to the much smaller home on the southern outskirts of town where his sister lived. With Tom in the Navy and her being a stay-at-home mom, money wasn’t plentiful and Matt tried to help out that way too, as much as he could. It wasn’t like he was rolling in dough himself, but the brew pub had been doing well the last few years. Jenna also didn’t let him help as much he wanted, but when it came to things for the kids, she was a little softer.

Jenna was happy to see him, as were the rug rats. While they wrapped their arms around his legs, nearly knocking him over, his heart went kind of mushy in his chest. They were cute kids: Emma, five, already a bossy female, and Bryson, three, so full of energy and curiosity. They missed their dad so much, and Matt knew it was hard for Tom, too, to be away from them, so anything he could do to be there for them was not a problem for him.

He played with the kids in their backyard for a while before he got to work and cleaned out a plugged downspout on one corner of the house, tightened some screws on the loose doorknob and nailed down a loose board on the back deck. Jenna didn’t ask him to, but he also pulled a whole bunch of weeds from along the back fence and trimmed a few dead branches from the palm tree in the corner of the yard.

“So I met Corwin,” he told his sister. “Did you know about this?”

She made a face. “I sort of knew last weekend that she was seeing someone, but she was pretty closemouthed about it. When I talked to her last night and she offered to take the kids to the beach, she told me he’d be coming too.”

“D’you know anything about this guy?”

“Not much. She said he’s a lawyer.”

Matt snorted. “You know what I think of lawyers. Or should I say, liars.”

She laughed. “Oh, come on. They can’t all be bad. Have some faith in Mom’s judgment. She wouldn’t go out with a jerk.”

“You know she’s not all that…er…street smart,” he said. “She’s kind of innocent. She hasn’t dated anyone since she and Dad got married and that was what…thirty-five years ago?”

“Yeah. And she was young then. She probably hasn’t dated any other guy in her whole life.”

“Christ.” Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Let me know what you think of him when you meet him.”

“I will. Thanks for coming over, Matt.”

With a small feeling of satisfaction at having helped, he left Jenna getting the kids ready for their outing to the beach with Grandma and Corwin. Urgh.

Next mission was to the brew pub. He had some paperwork he needed to get done and some beer to check in on. As always, a feeling of excitement gripped him at the thought of making beer. He loved everything about it, the art of it and the science of it. The drinking of it. He grinned. He totally related to Corey and her chocolate making, because he felt the same way about his beer. Smaller batches made tastier, more interesting beers, and he could pay attention to details and the quality of the ingredients. He loved trying out new ideas. Some were more successful than others. The pizza beer had been a dismal failure. It had sounded good—beer and pizza were a natural combination, but in reality, urgh. But he had another idea in his head…chocolate and beer…hmmm…

Chapter Three

“Take that, you mothereffing dickhead!” Dylan yelled. He pumped a fist into the air. Then his cell phone rang.

He was sitting in Matt’s living room playing Xbox, his booted foot propped on the coffee table and this game was sick. He flipped open the phone and tucked it between his ear and shoulder as he manipulated the controller.

“Hey,” Matt said. “One of my bartenders is sick, so I’m going to stay at the pub and help out tonight.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry about that,” Matt continued. “You’ve been at home alone all day. Why don’t you come on down and hang out here?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Dylan’s tongue came out as he tried to blast another creature.

“Maybe you could pick up Corey and bring her,” Matt said. “I told her if we did something tonight I’d let her know.”

“Should I call her?”

“Okay.” Matt gave Dylan her number. “See you guys in a while.”

Dylan ended the call and dropped his phone to the couch while he finished the battle he was in. “Yeah!” He tossed aside the controller and fell back into the cushions with a grin and a sigh of satisfaction. Then he picked up his phone and called Corey to tell her about the change in plans. “So I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he said. “We can get something to eat there.”

“Okay, but are you sure you guys want me tagging along? If you want a guys’ night—”

“Matt’s going to be working,” Dylan said. “I’ll be sitting there all by myself if you don’t come.”

She laughed. “Okay, then.”

He got her address and directions to her place, then continued trying to slay some enemy humanoids for a while. When he was done, he hobbled into the guest room to make himself presentable. He changed out of loose athletic shorts and into one of his many pairs of cargo shorts, added a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt and one leather flip flop on his good leg. He sighed at the cast. If he let himself think about it, he got all frustrated and pissed off, so he tried not to, but damn, it was hard sometimes. He fucking hated being powerless to accomplish his goals. He’d always had his eye on the prize, his goal clearly in focus, he’d always known what he wanted to do and had worked his ass off for it. This wasn’t the first time he’d been injured, but this was the first time he’d been out of the water for so long, and he didn’t even want to think about how it was going to affect his performance. It made him aggro beyond belief.

He found Corey’s place without difficulty. He’d grown up in San Amaro and it hadn’t changed that much in the years he’d been gone. But he frowned at the neighborhood she lived in as he parked on the street in front of her place, a semi-industrial neighborhood in an older part of town, nearly deserted on a Saturday evening. It had a dark and barren feel to it. Why the hell did she live here?

He eyed the small two-story building dubiously and knocked on the door, crutches under his arms. He looked around, wondering if he could defend himself with his crutches if he needed to. But the street was empty. He heard footsteps inside and the door opened.

“Hi.” Corey stepped outside and locked her door behind her, then dropped her keys into her big leather purse. “Thanks for picking me up. I could have met you there.”

“No worries,” he said. Would it be rude to ask about why she lived there? “So, uh…this seems an unusual place to live.”

She waited for him to gimp his way down the short sidewalk to the street. “Yeah, I know. I live here because it’s where I make my chocolate.”

He rounded the front of the rental car. “Chocolate?”

“Yeah. It’s what I do for a living. I make chocolate.”

“No shit?”

She laughed and they climbed in and did up seat belts. “No shit. I needed space for a commercial kitchen and I found this. I turned the upstairs into an apartment. It’s pretty small, but the rent is cheap and I was able to get my business license and food-handling permits to make my chocolates here.”

“That’s cool.”

“It’s not where I’d choose to live, if I had a choice. Obviously, I’d rather live near the beach or somewhere I could have a little yard. Like Matt’s place.” She shrugged. “But it won’t be forever, I hope. So why’s Matt working tonight?”

“Someone called in sick or something. He went into the office to do some work this afternoon and ended up staying.”

“That’s too bad. But he loves bartending. That’s what he was doing when we met.”

“I’m stoked to see his place.”

“It’s great. It’s really popular. The food is good, and of course the beer is great.”

Dylan knew exactly where Laguna Dorada Brew Pub was located, although the last time he’d been there it had been a fish and chips restaurant. Right on Shore Drive across from the beach, it was a bitching location for a brew pub. He parked in the nearly full lot behind the building and they walked around front. The neon sign cast a blue and gold glow as he went to open the door, but Corey beat him to it and held it open for him. Shit. He was supposed to be opening doors for her, but that was tricky on crutches. He swallowed his sigh of frustration and entered the pub.

The hostess smiled at him and he returned it with one of his own. “We’re going into the bar,” he told her.

“By all means.” She extended a hand to indicate the bar on his left and Corey followed him into the vibrant atmosphere. Talking voices and laughter, music and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit room. The scent of some kind of char-broiled meat made him realize how hungry he was. He took in the stylish rock walls, big arched windows looking out onto the street and the beach, a long wooden bar lined with stools with small pendant lights above. Most of the tables were occupied with people eating and drinking, talking and laughing, and a lot of the stools at the bar had people seated on them too.

“Down at the end,” Corey said in his ear, up on her tiptoes. “There are two seats.”

He headed toward the empty stools and spotted Matt behind the bar, pulling a draft for someone. He slid awkwardly onto the stool, trying to maneuver his crutches, then lifted a hand and caught Matt’s eye. Matt’s face broke into a grin and he moved toward them.

“Hey, buddy,” he said. He looked at Corey, and Dylan saw his smile change subtly, a slight softening and warming. “Hey, Cor. What can I get you guys?”

“What do you recommend?” Dylan asked, picking up a small menu card. “This is quite a list.”

“I’ll start you out with Riptide Red Ale.”

Dylan grinned. “Riptide, huh? Okay.”

Matt moved away and Dylan turned to Corey, seated on the stool to his right. He took the opportunity to admire her. She wasn’t a girly girl, dressed in skirts or particularly revealing clothes; both times he’d seen her she’d been wearing jeans and T-shirts. She didn’t wear much makeup. But damn, she was sweet.

He hadn’t come to San Amaro to get laid. Hell, he could get that anywhere, any time, even with a cast on his leg, with beach bunnies hanging around all the events. Tanned girls in bikinis were plentiful on the ASP World Tour. No, he’d come home to rest and recuperate, do a little rehab, work out, and connect with his old buddy Matt.

But here was this sweet little treat. She could be one of those beach bunnies, with her outdoor looks—tanned face with gold freckles over her nose and cheeks that gave her a beachy look. Her long wavy hair was streaked with candy colors—toffee, caramel, golden butterscotch. And she made candy for a living. Sweet.

He almost wanted to laugh at his own thoughts and knew his amusement transferred to his face. “So how’d you end up making chocolates for a living?”

She leaned against the bar. “I’ve always been fascinated by chocolate. I saw a chocolate-making demonstration once when I was a kid living in San Diego. It seemed so…luxurious. So decadent.” She looked down at her fingers briefly, then gave him a bright smile. “Hence the name of my company—Decadent Indulgence.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Of course, I love the taste of it too. Eating chocolate is a sensory experience—it’s smooth and rich. Dark chocolate is the only food that makes our brain produce endorphins, just like an orgasm.”