With Strings Attached (7 page)

“I had no clue chocolate was so complicated.”

She smiled. “That’s why it’s so fascinating. Try one of the milk chocolate truffles.”

He picked one up and bit into it.

“Some chocolate manufacturers—not mentioning any names—” She coughed into her hand. “Matterhorn. Ahem.“ Dylan laughed. “—use lesser quality cacao to make milk chocolate, hiding the taste with extra sugar, vanilla and milk products. Some even add small quantities of malt in the chocolate as a flavor enhancer. But I don’t do that, I use the best quality beans, even to make my milk chocolate.”

Some customers stopped by and kept her busy for the next few minutes, purchasing the last of her chocolates.

“Now I feel silly sitting here with an empty booth,” Corey said with a glum look at the bare tabletop.

“Your place isn’t that far. It shouldn’t take Matt long to get there and back.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “How’s your foot today?”

“It’s okay.”

“Here, you should sit on my stool.” She slid off it. “I should have offered sooner, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay, really. You sit. If I get tired of standing on one leg, I’ll let you know.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and her tummy fluttered down low. “I’m pretty tough.”

“I guess you have to be in pretty good shape to be a pro surfer.”

He winked. “I’m in great shape. And any time you want to check that out, let me know.”

Heat swept into Corey’s cheeks and she pictured herself checking out Dylan’s shape. Oh boy.

“Are you all out of chocolates?”

Corey turned to look at the couple standing there who’d asked the question. She blinked. “I am for the moment,” she said “But I have more coming. If you’re still here in about ten minutes, check back.”

“Okay. We will.”

Several more customers came by and she told them the same story. “See,” one woman muttered to her husband. “I told you they were good. She sold out already.”

“Hmm. Could be a new marketing strategy,” Dylan murmured beside her.

She caught his twinkling eyes and laughed. “You know, you’re right,” she said. “They don’t need to know I sold out because I could only carry half as many on the bus as I usually do.”

“Matt have a key to your place?”

“Oh. Yeah. He does. I have one for his place too. You sure you don’t want to sit?”

“Yeah, okay. I am getting kinda tired.” They traded places, bodies brushing against each other as they did so, Corey tingling inside at the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his muscles. Dylan leaned his crutches against the table. Now they were closer to the same eye level, with him on the stool and her standing.

“That was fun last night,” Dylan said. “Matt has a great place there.”

“Yeah, it was fun.” They smiled at each other.

“You should come over tonight. Matt’s going to grill some steaks.”

She remembered the invitation extended before Matt had gotten distracted by her piece-of-crap car. “I guess. I won’t have wheels, though, to get there and home.”

“Here you go.” Matt arrived and set down a huge cardboard box, then helped her unpack the smaller boxes and arrange them on her table. Customers immediately began lining up and she was kept busy dealing with them, talking to her customers about the different types of candies she had, helping them make their choice.

“Hey, Cor,” Matt said in a brief pause, setting a hand on her arm. “We’re gonna look around a bit. We’ll come back later.”

“Okay.”

When she’d once again sold out of chocolates, they showed up to help her with the empty boxes and the promo materials she’d set out—brochures and business cards. “We’ll drive you home,” Matt told her.

“Did you guys stay here all this time just so you could do that?” She set her hands on her hips. “You didn’t have to wait around for me. I can take the bus home.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “We’re driving you home,” he repeated firmly. “And I’ll look at your car.”

“That’s okay,” Corey said. The three of them started across the grass toward the parking lot, walking slowly for Dylan’s benefit. “Really.”

Matt didn’t answer and Corey knew there was no point arguing. She hated it when she needed help with anything, but although Matt was easygoing he had a core of stubbornness inside him at times. Corey climbed into the back of Matt’s Jeep, letting Dylan have the front seat because of his foot, and they drove the short distance to her place. Her car was parked on the street.

She reluctantly handed over the keys to Matt, who slid into her car and tried to start it. Again, nothing, total deadness. She shrugged as she looked at Dylan. Matt popped the hood from the inside, then joined them in front of the car, lifted it and peered inside. He poked around, then straightened. “Alternator belt,” he said, holding up a broken one. “It’s shot. Must have fallen off.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, hating that she didn’t know that and didn’t have a clue what to do about it. If she was going to drive an old piece of junk, that was going to have to change. “I guess I’ll have to get it towed to a shop to get a new one.”

“Nah. I’ll pick one up tomorrow and come put it on.”

She felt her eyes sting, and the pressure behind her cheekbones that told her she was about to cry. She fucking hated this, hated having to rely on someone else for anything. It was never a good thing to depend on someone else; you always got let down, in her experience. She drew in a long breath and swallowed through a tight throat. What were her choices? She could get all stubborn and determined and end up paying a fortune to get her car towed, and then fixed, a fortune that she so did not have—or she could let Matt do this.

He met her eyes and the understanding she saw there made her go all soft and warm and made her want to cry even more. “Not another word,” he said quietly. She nodded, her mouth tight.

“So you coming over for steaks?” Matt asked in a louder voice. “We’ll drive you home later.”

“Maybe I should stay home,” she said. “I’m really tired, and I should do some work on my books. And I don’t want to bother you guys later to drive me home.” His jaw tightened, his eyes flashed, and for a moment easygoing Matt became a little intimidating. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll come. Can I go up and change?”

“Sure.”

She led them into the building and up the stairs, with a hesitant glance at Dylan.

“Can you do stairs in the crutches?” She eyed his foot and bit her lip.

“Yeah. I can. It’s a bit of work but I can do it. Is that where you make your chocolate?” Dylan asked, pointing his with chin toward her industrial kitchen as he started up the stairs.

“Yes.”

They entered her apartment, a tiny space with an open kitchen and living area that she’d tried to make nice. Looking at it now, as if through Dylan’s eyes, it looked pretty pathetic with her secondhand, repainted, reupholstered furniture. She dropped her purse on the small kitchen counter. “Have a seat, guys,” she said, waving a hand toward the couch and chair. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

She wanted to change her clothes, yeah, but needed a few minutes to collect herself, to get over this feeling of helplessness and frustration. She sank down onto her bed and sat there for a moment. She knew she drove Matt crazy with her stubborn independence, but there was no way she was ever going depend on anyone but herself ever again.

Dylan hopped over to the couch, pivoted on one foot and slid his crutches out from under his arms, then lowered himself to the seat. He looked at Matt, who stood there watching Corey with a faint frown on his face.

“’Sup, dude?” Dylan asked.

Matt turned his gaze on him. “Huh? Oh. Nothing. She’s just so damn stubborn.”

Dylan lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Matt shook his head and threw himself down into the chair.

“What’s up with that?” Dylan asked.

Matt pursed his lips and lifted one shoulder. “That’s Corey.”

“Okay.”

They sat there in silence for a moment. Dylan checked out Corey’s place. It was cute. Nothing fancy that was for sure, but then, he lived in hotel rooms, what did he know? It felt comfortable. He liked it.

The warbling of a cell phone broke into the silence in the small apartment. Both men looked at each other.

“Corey’s,” Matt said. He rose and crossed the room to where her purse sat on the counter. “Cor! You want me to get this?”

“Okay,” she called from behind her closed bedroom door.

He reached into her purse and found the phone and pressed a button. “Hello?”

Dylan leaned back, ignoring the faint ache in his foot, watched and listened.

“Oh hi, Ms. Fenwick.” Matt grimaced at Dylan and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, it’s Matt. How are you?” A pause. “Good, good. Yeah, she’s right here, I’ll get her.” He lowered the phone and moved to Corey’s bedroom door. He rapped softly then opened the door a crack. “Corey. It’s your mom.”

Dylan was pretty sure he heard a groan and then Corey opened her door and took the phone, looking none too happy.

“Hi, Mom.”

Matt remained close to her while she talked, a concerned expression on his face that gave Dylan the impression a call from Corey’s mom wasn’t exactly a good thing. What was that about? Tension thickened in the room as she spoke. Dylan didn’t want to eavesdrop on something clearly personal, but what choice did he have in the small apartment? He watched Matt run a hand down Corey’s streaky blonde hair. The gesture gave him a funny feeling inside, a kind of squeeze to his guts.

“Oh my God.”

He looked back at Corey’s face, her mouth open, her eyes closed.

“You’re kidding,” she continued. “You have got to be kidding me. How did he find you?” Another long pause. “That’s…oh my God.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “No, I don’t want to see him! Jesus. What is he thinking?”

Curiosity spiked inside Dylan.

Corey leaned her head against the wall, eyes closed, her posture slumped. “No. Please, Mom. Don’t tell him. I really don’t want anything to do with him.”

Was this the ex Matt had mentioned? The one who’d treated her like crap? Was he some kind of stalker? Dylan sat forward, concern rising up in him now too. He met Matt’s eyes with a silent question. Matt shrugged.

“What’s there to think about?” Corey demanded into the phone. “He walked out on us years ago. Why now? I don’t get it.” Silence. “No. Absolutely not. Yeah. Okay.” She sighed. “I’m doing okay. Business is good, yeah.” She chatted for another minute with her mom, then said, “I have to go. Matt and another friend are here. I’ll call you next week and we can talk more. Yeah.” She swallowed again and almost choked on her next words. “Love you too, Mom. Bye.” She snapped her phone shut and remained slouched against the wall, then straightened. She shot Dylan an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

He lifted a shoulder and smiled. “No worries. Your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on, Cor?” Matt asked quietly, touching her hair again.

She closed her eyes briefly. “My dad showed up.”

“Whoa.”

From the stunned expression on Matt’s face, Dylan gathered this was quite a surprise. Again he felt like an outsider listening in on something personal. “You want me to go?” he asked, pushing himself to his good foot and reaching for his crutches.

“No, it’s okay.” Corey gave him a forced smile. “No big deal. Long story, though. My dad left my mom and me a long time ago. He couldn’t deal with my mom. She…” She hesitated. “My mom’s bipolar,” she finally said. “She’s been through a lot.”

Matt’s deep frown told Dylan that Corey’s words were an understatement.

“Mom and my dad got married when they were really young. Mom was pregnant. When I was about four, my dad walked out on us. He couldn’t deal with all the…drama, I suppose. I’ve never heard from him since.”

“Holy crap. So he just showed up now?”

“Apparently.” She rubbed her face. “Mom sounded upset.” She looked at Matt. “I should probably go see her.”

He nodded, his mouth a grim line.

“She lives in San Diego,” Corey told Dylan. “She and I were estranged for a long time, too, but a few years ago we kind of made up with each other. Anyway, I have no idea why my dad just showed up out of the blue like that. It’s bizarre.”

“He wants to see you,” Matt said.

“Yeah. She told him she’d call me and ask me before she gave him my address, thank God.” She rolled her eyes.

“You sure you don’t want to see him?” Matt asked.

She snorted. “Positive. Why would I want anything to do with him?”

“Because he’s your father.”

She looked at Matt, and their eyes met and held in a connection that once again gave Dylan that funny squeezing feeling. Corey shook her head. “No. Don’t even go there. He didn’t want me then, and I don’t want anything to do with him now.” She squared her small shoulders. “Sorry about all this, guys. Bad timing.” She flashed Dylan a brave grin that made his gut clench. “Let’s go. I’m looking forward to that steak.”

There was obviously a whole helluva lot more to her story than she was letting on. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t one to share all his shitty problems with people he hardly knew either, but he found himself wanting to know more, wanting her to feel comfortable enough to share those things with him, as she clearly did with Matt. He found himself wishing he knew how to make it better for her. And so, he did the only thing he knew he was really good at, besides surfing. “Hey, sunshine.” He hopped over to her and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go drink some beers and have some fun.”