by Cari Quinn
“Too bad,” Dillon added when Cory didn’t respond.
“Victoria’s ecstatic. She doesn’t want me anywhere near her sister.” Cory’s scowl deepened. “A fact she’s made no effort to hide.”
“’Cause she wants to do you herself.” Dillon saluted Cory with his beer when he cast sharp eyes in Dillon’s direction. “It’s plain as fucking day, man.”
“You’re nuts.”
“You never use yours. Otherwise you’d see what’s in front of you. She’s hot.”
One eyebrow poised to leap off Cory’s forehead. “Victoria?”
“You don’t find her even a little attractive?”
The blue spread into a faint purple tinge at Cory’s hairline. “Well, of course, she’s attractive.” His eyes glazed like a sheet of ice. “But hot? No.”
Dillon grinned. Yep. Doth man protest way too much, even with doth beer.
“You’re having too much sex. It’s clouding your judgment.”
Not anymore. “Is there such a thing?” Dillon shouted over the sudden uptick in the music.
“Sex? It’s been over a year for me.” Cory lifted his voice. “Over a year.”
The music cut out again just as Cory made his declaration. The words echoed across the bar, as if he’d shouted them. Judging from the ringing in Dillon’s ear, he had.
The music shuddered back on with a screech and a pulse of sound. Dillon shook his head. “‘Splains a lot, if you ask me.”
“I’m not,” Cory snapped, managing to close his mouth as conversations resumed around them. “Asking you.”
Dillon shrugged. He had his own problems.
“Are you going to ask her to the benefit?”
Dillon stared into his beer. “I already did,” he said finally.
“They’re going to give you an award, you know.”
“For what?” Dillon snapped.
“You’re always busting your ass for that charity. How many houses have you rehabbed this year?”
“A lot. But—”
“But nothing. You deserve the recognition.”
“Recognition’s the last thing I want right now,” Dillon said under his breath.
After tonight’s spectacular fail, he didn’t give a shit about the benefit. He’d hurt Alexa when all he’d wanted was to help her, so what the hell made him qualified to help anyone else?
He couldn’t even take care of the woman he loved. He fucking loved her, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get a chance to tell her. If she’d ever believe him.
God, he didn’t want to lose her.
Cory shifted his way. “It’s your business too. If you want to cancel out her debts, no one’s stopping you.”
The shift in topic made Dillon lift a brow. “She can do it herself.” She’d be paying them off soon enough.
“You honestly think she can clear that much back debt? In this economy?” Cory’s tone held the evidence of his doubt. “And even if she can, how far behind will that put her for the future? Just maintaining current operating capital will take a toll.”
“She can do it,” Dillon repeated. “She’s already on her way.” He slammed down his beer. “She didn’t give up on the store, and I’m not fucking giving up on her.”
He’d prove to her what he felt. Whatever it took.
…
Alexa stewed all night long, tossing and turning on her stupid air mattress. Jeez, she needed a real bed.
Real was the most hateful word in the English language.
Lying alone in the dark, she tried to cry, just to get out some of the pain. But her tears had dried up, spent in the fury she’d unleashed on him at her store. And it still hadn’t been enough to close the gaping wound he’d left behind.
She was so in love with the ass. Didn’t it just figure that the first time she fell for a guy, it was a lying jerk like Dillon?
But why had he lied? That was the one question she just couldn’t answer. For sport? To try to take down her business from the inside out? And if so, why had he helped her? There was no denying he had, even if he’d ripped her to the bone afterward.
She finally gave up on trying to sleep and dragged herself through a shower at first light. The moment she entered the kitchen she saw the source of the scratching noises she’d been too worn out to investigate earlier.
Her cat crouched over her prey, looking sickly instead of triumphant, and a fresh wash of tears blurred Alexa’s eyes.
The violet was dead.
Oh, technically it probably wasn’t. Dirt was scattered over the floor and the leaves looked gnawed on and limp, but if she wanted to replant and nurture it, maybe she could save it from plant heaven. Compared with the dried-out flowers from Dillon she’d foolishly saved that were now lying, crumbled, all over the floor, the violet didn’t look half-bad. But she just didn’t have the energy. Or the time, since she was late for work.
“You’re a bad kitty,” Alexa admonished as she scooped the cat into her arms and cuddled her close. What had gotten into her? Trixie was three years old and never got into anything she shouldn’t. Or at least she hadn’t at the old house. Seemed her cat was having as hard of a time adjusting to their new normal as she was.
She nuzzled Trixie’s cheek while she hit the vet’s speed dial. Five minutes later she had an emergency vet appointment and her understanding best friend was on the way to Divine to deal with Mrs. Yancy. Thank God for Nellie. She’d have to buy the baby another frilly dress to go with the fifty she’d already stockpiled.
By the time she dropped off her lethargic—but thankfully mostly unharmed—kitty and relieved her best friend at work, her sleepless night had taken its toll in a raging headache. And then it got even worse, because the first thing she saw when she turned on her computer was an e-mail from Santangelo, LLC.
Great. Just great.
She expected to see the record of the funds she’d transferred via phone that morning to pay off her back rent. Instead, there was a note informing her that not only had her payment gone through, she now had a credit balance of approximately three months’ rent.
Dillon.
She slammed her fist on the counter. Damn him all to hell. Did he think money would solve everything? If he did, he was no better than his brother.
In all fairness, she’d once believed that, too, but she’d been so wrong. Now that her footing was becoming more solid in the business arena, all she could think about was what she’d been missing. She’d had it for a little while, and by God, she couldn’t imagine living her entire life without experiencing that wild rush again.
She wouldn’t.
Fingers shaking, she withdrew the ticket Dillon had given her to that evening’s gala from her purse. She was a successful store owner. Hiding away in her apartment while she stewed over what he’d done might’ve fit the old Alexa, who only fought if the odds were firmly stacked in her favor. But the new version wasn’t about to give him—and Cory—the satisfaction of thinking she needed to go off to cry in private.
She would be at that party, and she’d be looking so damn good Dillon would be the one weeping by the time the night was through. They’d see that she didn’t need their damn help. Or their pity.
…
Dillon paced the length of the reception hall. He’d been calling Alexa all day to no avail. He’d gone by the store earlier, but she’d closed at noon, not two as the sign on the door said. Even more worried, he’d pounded on her apartment door. Only after he’d gone back outside had he realized her small sedan wasn’t parked in the lot.
He thumbed out a package of antacids from his jeans pocket. He’d been chewing them like mints all day and his gut still burned. His head still throbbed. He was hungover and miserable and God, he couldn’t stand the idea of her curled up crying somewhere—or worse. If only she’d let him fix things. He’d make it right.
He’d do anything.
“There you are!” Sidestepping the workers finalizing last-minute arrangements, his mother hurried across the decorated hall. She
looked as fresh as one of Alexa’s roses in a pale pink shift dress. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
As evidenced by the five voice mails he’d ignored. “Sorry. I’ve been in the middle of stuff.”
“Stuff that didn’t include getting changed for tonight, I see.” Obviously disappointed, she fingered the sleeve of his T-shirt. “People will start arriving in less than an hour.”
He glanced at the tables with their navy tablecloths and drab flower arrangements centered around hurricane lamp-style candles. “Who did the flowers?”
“We did the flowers. Have you forgotten the home beautification part of Value Hardware’s business?”
He wished he could forget a lot of things. “No, but Divine could’ve done so much more. Alexa could’ve…” He stopped. How long was he going to continue to torture himself like this? “I’ll go home and get changed soon. It’s not like I’m making any headway.” Disgust laced his words as he shoved his phone in his pocket.
His mother frowned. “Did you finally find a date for tonight?”
“I’d like to hear the answer to this,” a voice behind him answered.
He looked away from his mother. And did a double take at the sight of Alexa in a floor-length royal purple dress, slit up the side to reveal miles of creamy thigh.
His mom looked back and forth between them. “Oh,” she said softly.
Dillon stared at Alexa. She stood tall and regal, her hair pulled on top of her head in a crown of curls. Her eyes regarded him coolly. Waiting.
He’d been waiting too. Now was his chance to put it all out there. To say everything he’d felt, to apologize, to tell her how much she meant to him. That the idea of living his life without her in it would be like never seeing the sun again. Everything she’d made so bright and new just from her presence would go dark.
“Yes, oh.” Alexa flashed a razor-thin smile and cocked her head. “Still wearing the poor-boy costume, huh? Afraid you were going to run into me?”
He barely breathed. Costume? He wasn’t hiding from her, not in the ways that mattered. She’d helped him figure out who he really was, and how much he could give to the company. Along with how much he would get in return.
It wasn’t about coloring outside the lines. It was about working within the system to make it better from the inside out. Helping people through helping himself.
And her. Always her.
“Did you figure paying my bills would make up for your sins?” she demanded.
Dillon gaped at her. “I—”
“I don’t need your money, Mr. Big Shot. I can do whatever I need to do for my store myself. It’ll succeed or I’ll die trying. I didn’t want you to help prop up my business. I wanted you for you.”
His head and stomach churned in tandem. Only half of what she’d said made sense to his addled brain. Why had he chosen last night to get drunk when he needed his faculties more than ever?
All he had left to give her was the truth. He’d get the words out even if they choked him.
And with the way his throat kept locking up, they just might.
“Nothing I did was for show. What you saw is who I am.” He ignored her derisive snort. “I wanted to help you, but not because I didn’t think you could do it on your own. I knew you could.”
“You really think I trust your supposed faith in me when all you’ve done is lie?” Her beautiful eyes sheened and his gut twisted. “Give me one reason to believe you.”
Because I love you.
He opened his mouth, the words right there. This was it. He was going to lay it all on the line. But before he could speak, Alexa muttered a curse and twisted the knife in his gut once more.
“Your money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t buy me.”
Chapter Eleven
Goddamn bastard.
Alexa flexed her hand and stared straight ahead until her dry eyes screamed for relief. But there was none to be found tonight.
Other women probably would’ve slapped him and left. She’d planned on doing some version of that but when she’d seen not one, but two different gorgeous women glide up to Dillon before she’d even made it out the door, she’d changed her mind.
She wasn’t keeping an eye on him. That would be ridiculous. No, she just wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of ducking out early as if she was too brokenhearted to stay.
There were other benefits to staying besides proving that her will hadn’t been broken by the mighty Santangelo/James brothers. She wanted to see the so-not-a-handyman in action. Schmoozing with his fellow benefactors, rubbing elbows with his snooty family. Although Dillon’s mom and dad weren’t snooty at all, truthfully. Cory probably stole all the stuck-up genes and hoarded them for himself. Seemed like something he would do.
It wasn’t all bad. She ended up at a table with two lovely older couples who included her in the conversation and seemed quite interested in her store. Both of the women mentioned stopping by the following week. And even a picky eater like her couldn’t fault the selection of the dinner buffet. She went for seconds of her chicken piccata, and had a thick wedge of lemon meringue pie for dessert.
Though that might just have been to spite Dillon, who tried repeatedly to speak to her. She hadn’t told him to go to hell again, but she reserved the right to change her mind.
The last time he’d crouched next to her table and told her in an urgent voice that she needed to give him a chance, that he’d never meant for “things” to go so far. His face might as well have been set on stun for its effect on her traitorous body.
His golden skin gleamed under the lights and his black tux wrapped sensuously around every rise and ripple of muscle. The few times she’d caught his eye, he’d stared at her as if he wanted nothing more than to get her alone. Worse, her traitorous body wanted to let him. Coming to the benefit at all had not been the smartest move on that score.
She fought a sigh. It just wasn’t fair.
The unfairness multiplied when they started the award portion of the evening. Dillon’s mother got the first one, then it was two board members’ turns. She applauded them all, because it was a great charity and the house she and Dillon had, ahem, visited the other night proved how much good Helping Hands was doing in the community.
How much good he was doing.
But when Dillon got the biggest award of all, practically a damn trophy, for all his many hours of service, she couldn’t look away fast enough. Even so, she still saw the embarrassment he shouldered as he strode on stage.
He kept his speech mercifully brief. Too brief, it turned out, since that meant the guests could again wander around. What wandered her way only sent her further into her rage spiral, via emotional purgatory.
“You should’ve sat at our table. We have beignets.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Indeed. It’s an asset in business.” With a smile unnervingly close to Dillon’s—how had she not noticed before?—Cory sat in the empty seat beside her. The dancing portion of the evening had begun, and most of the couples were swarming the dance floor. There weren’t too many singles at the gala, and those who were there looked about as merry as she did.
“You look like you just fought three rounds and lost in a TKO.”
Wonderful. That was just the image she wanted to project. “I’m fine.”
“He said the same thing. He’s a worse liar than you.”
Something sharp twisted in her already achy chest. “I think he’s a pretty good liar, all things considered.” She bore down hard on the urge to cry. Just sit there and bawl while the romantic swing music swelled and couples swirled in pastel blurs around them. “I don’t need his damn money. I don’t need him to bail me out. I paid off my own bills.”
Cory rested his leg on his opposite knee, apparently not concerned about his steel-gray tux. The guy might’ve stepped off a page in GQ, he was that handsome. In fact, she might’ve called him the most gorgeous man in the room, if not for
the blond, eye-maskless pirate scowling at the head table. He would win that contest, effortlessly.
In jeans and a T-shirt. In a flawless tux. Or better yet, completely naked.
“You could choose to look at it as a hand, not a handout.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, knowing she sounded defensive and stubborn and not giving a hoot. She was entitled.
“Undoubtedly. But I’ve heard—and this is just a rumor—that life is better when you have someone who wants to take care of you, and vice versa. Someone to spoon with on cold mornings, and bring you soup. Or let out the dog, should you have one.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Me either. My parents have a horse, though.” Cory seemed to ponder that before shaking his head. “Then there are all those other couples things. Sending cards on important dates. The occasional love note tucked under a pillow. Joint checking accounts.”
She barked out a laugh. “Joint checking accounts? That’s one of the highlights of romance to you?”
His grin overtook his face and silvered his charcoal eyes. “Trust me, sharing an account with me would be more excitement than most women could take.”
“You’re a complete ass.”
“I am.” He leaned toward her, his expression suddenly grave. “But he’s not. He’s actually a decent guy. Part of why women are constantly flinging their undergarments in his direction, despite his assertions that they only care about his wallet. He’s the kind of man women can sniff from miles away.”
She’d already seen several of those types skulking around him tonight. Not that she blamed them. But still. “I’m assuming you’re referring to the stink from his lies.”
“I guarantee he hated himself for lying to you.” At her huff of breath, Cory zoomed in for the kill. “He’s faithful and genuine and loyal. Above all that, no matter what you think, he’s honest. He didn’t lie to hurt you. I promise you that. Dill’s not built that way. Me, on the other hand, I’m apt to do any damn thing. For any damn reason.”
Shocker. “I thought I knew him. At least part of him. But I don’t. He’s a complete mystery.”
“Because you didn’t know I was his brother? Until recently, he hasn’t acted as if I am for years.”
