Shameless (St. Martin Family Saga) (5 page)

She gasped. “How easy for you to stand there and judge me. Just remember I didn’t ask you to come over here.” Her eyes narrowed into snakelike slits as she glared at him. “Some people need money to feel content—that doesn’t work for me. And just because I don’t have a private practice and a fancy degree doesn’t mean I’m not ambitious.”

Cory exhaled loudly through clenched teeth. “Fuck it.” The house could fall down around her and all her karma bullshit. He wasn’t going to press her. If she didn’t want to take care of herself, there was nothing he could do to help her. He needed some space anyway. It was past time he left.

“For the record, I wasn’t judging you. I was trying to help you. Thanks for the dinner.” He looked to the door. “I’ll go out the back.”

4

C
orrigan St. Martin
was an ass. Brook just wished he didn’t have such a sweet one. Four days ago he’d walked out her back door and she’d not been able to get him out of her mind since.

When Brook stomped inside, The Good Doctor was hoppin’ with a bachelorette party in progress. Logan had refused to come out from behind the counter as he stewed about a brewery hosting a bachelorette party. He was talking to himself, asking where the hell the bachelors were.

An hour later, washing and drying pint glasses wasn’t enough to occupy her mind, and Brook found herself thinking of nothing but Cory. She wished he hadn’t mentioned anything about the door; now she’d be leery in her own home. Imagining what she would do during a home invasion had chills crawling up her spine. What could she do? She had no means of protection. Could she afford a new door? Probably not. She had only three hundred dollars left to get her through the month.

She was in a real funk about how they’d left things. Although he was an ass, she felt she’d been harsh. He’d said he was trying to help her.

Brook had been kept busy keeping the bachelorette party in beer and peanuts, but the women were of the diva variety and not easily satisfied. The ringleader approached Brook at the bar.

“Hey, we’re about to open the gifts, and I’ve misplaced my notepad and pen. Do you have something I can use?”

Brook dried her wet hands and pulled a couple of sheets of paper from the printer, grabbed the only writing implement she could find—a carpenter’s pencil. She handed the stuff to the diva sporting a banner across her body that read
Maid of Honor
.

She reached out and took Brook’s offering. “Gross, this paper is wet. Get me a pad.” She slammed the paper down on the bar and scrunched up her nose at the same time. “And I need a nice gel pen, preferably blue or red—anything but black—and no pencils.”

Brook stared at the woman with disbelieving eyes. They had none of those things at the bar. Brook shrugged. “There’s a drugstore across the street.” The maid of honor harrumphed and walked off, leaving the paper and pencil behind.

Once the gift and game portion of the festivities had been completed, the girls began to drink in earnest. Brook guessed that most of them—including the two singing very much off key—must be intoxicated considering the amount of beer they’d been ingesting. She offered them hot wings, fries, and peanuts, but they refused all food and demanded more beer. They’d become a tad belligerent for Brook’s liking and had taken to calling her Beer Wench.

At eight thirty or so, Brook looked up from drafting a pitcher and into the exotic blue pools of Cory’s eyes. His lips were tightly pursed until he exhaled and said, “Hey.” He combed his hands through his wet hair, drawing Brook’s eyes to his bulky triceps and a hint of his silky underarm hair. His T-shirt was damp and clung provocatively to his upper body. It must have been raining outside, and Brook couldn’t have been more thankful. Cory looked good wet. She was completely mesmerized as she drank him in. She couldn’t even speak. Only the most primitive responses were possible—breathing, pumping blood, consciousness.

Bony, pale fingers slid over his shoulder, drawing Brook out of her trance.

“Corrigan, mmm, I’ve missed you. Come over and have a beer with me.” The maid of honor scraped her thick sculpted nails—red, of course—across Cory’s wet chest. He grabbed her hand and moved it from his body. She shot a narrow-eyed look at Brook before smiling provocatively at Cory and asking, “How about a repeat of last Friday night?”

Cory’s eyes caught Brook’s gaze. He flexed his neck to the right. Then, still holding Brook’s gaze, he said, “Julia, go scratch your claws somewhere else.”

Today was Friday so that meant there had been three days between Julia and Cory when she’d been with him. Why did that bother her? He’d had Mrs. Simms the same day they’d also had sex, but the thought of him with Julia made her nauseated. She was about to walk toward the kitchen when she felt a jolt of electricity on her skin.

He reached out a hand, latched on to Brook’s wrist, and pulled her out from behind the counter. “Please come with me. I need to speak with you.” He never let go as he led her from the bar all the way to Logan’s office. Fading in the distance, she heard the exasperated pants emanating from Julia.

He closed the office door and massaged his right temple with his fingers. “Look, Brook, I was not judging you or your lifestyle. I apologize if I came across that way.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a
stay and play
keychain from one of the local casinos. Attached was a copper key. “Here.”

Brook held the key in front of her face. Wrinkling her nose, she asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s the key to your new front door.”

Oh God. She’d been worried about her door situation since he’d brought it to her attention. Brook wasn’t prone to crying, but her eyes blurred. She looked down to hide the tears from Cory. He put a finger under her chin and slowly tilted her face to meet his. Brook whispered, “Thank you. I don’t know if you could ever understand what this means to me. No one has ever helped me like this before. Just help with no expectations. Thank you, Cory.”

A few tears spilled over and down her cheeks. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re welcome.”

The door to the office opened and in walked Logan in full-on rant mode. “There you are. It’s megalomania out there. Crazy bleach-blond bachelorettes—too much peroxide has damaged their brain cells.” He looked from Cory to Brook. “Something going on between you two?”

Cory offered a sly smile. “We’re friends.”

Logan frowned, and then he drew Brook away from Cory.

“No, no, no. I like this one, Cory, and don’t intend to lose her to one of your boneheaded moves. It ain’t gonna happen.”

Brook ducked her head, trying to hide her smile. “I was just leaving,” she said.

Logan helped her through the door, not allowing her a chance to say goodbye to Cory.

As she left, she heard them whispering. Their voices got louder the farther she moved away until she heard Cory say, “Fuck off.”

Brook returned to her duties, hoping that she hadn’t caused trouble between the brothers. She liked Logan, respected him even. But she couldn’t help her attraction to Cory. She knew it wouldn’t go anywhere—the guy hated kids and didn’t want marriage, things she knew she wanted one day, but why couldn’t they enjoy one another while the attraction lasted?

Brook was behind the bar washing and drying pint glasses when sinewy arms wrapped around her from behind and a pair of hands covered her eyes.

“Hey!” she yelled.

She whirled and found Parker Avants, wearing his sexy smolder, standing behind her. Parker’s family owned an oyster harvesting business, and they provided oysters for the bar and brewery. His timing was great because they’d already run out of oysters for the evening.

“Hey, girl.”

He leaned in to hug her, rubbing his hand across her lower back. His rich cologne made her think of passion-fueled nights. Too bad that when she pictured a man sharing those nights it wasn’t Parker’s face she saw.

They’d been friends since she’d started working at the brewery. Parker wanted to be more, but Brook wasn’t feeling it. She thought of Cory and wondered what the difference was. They were both sexy and brooding, but Cory had an
I couldn’t give a shit
attitude, and he was so arrogantly confident that picking at him was fun. He took himself way too seriously, living by some code he’d devised. Story all over town was he wouldn’t date someone more than once. She’d wanted to splinter that ruse and show him he wasn’t impervious to cracks within his foundation. God, when they were together it was much more than a crack, it was an explosion. And she knew he felt it too. She planned to show him she was good for more than just a few nights.

Parker’s muscles had muscles and his sexy jaw line was usually covered with a few days of stubble, but Parker was just Parker. No layers. When she kissed him, it didn’t jump-start her motor. When she’d kissed Cory, she could have benefited from a fire extinguisher.

Today Parker wore a tight V-neck shirt with designer jeans snug in all the right places and a belt with small spikes. He’d been in the Marines and still wore a chain of dog tags around his neck.

“Can I get you a pint?” she offered.

“Thought you’d never ask.” He leaned next to her against the counter.

Brook handed him the beer. “You still available to help me pick up the animals next week?”

“Yeah, I told Dad I’d need to borrow the cargo van. I thought I’d come a bit early and take you to breakfast.”

“Sounds great, I love breakfast.”

“I know.” Parker winked, his cheekbones highlighted by the overhead light.

They’d been out as friends so many times, she’d lost count. He’d always been gentle with her, even when she stopped him as they were rounding second base and she could feel his stiffness through his jeans. She wished she was as attracted to him as she was to Cory. Parker had the large family she’d always dreamed of belonging to. He would do anything for her and had. He was always considering what she liked and disliked. Whenever she asked him what he liked to do, he’d just shrug and say he liked being next to her. He was so nice she felt guilty at thinking him a huge bore.

The energy near the bar suddenly shifted, and Brook knew what she’d see before she turned. Cory stood directly behind her. His eyes were narrow and his head was tilted back, accentuating his chest.

“Who the hell’s this guy?” He sipped his beer, never taking his eyes from her.

“Parker, meet Cory, Logan’s brother. He’s the new vet in town.” Parker extended his hand. “Parker’s family harvests those oysters you like so much.”

Cory’s brow rose, and his lips quirked as he extended his hand. “Is that so?”

His eyes bored into Parker as they shook hands, Cory holding on for longer than was customary. When Cory finally released him, Brook saw Parker flex the tendons in his hand. Stupid man. Evidently, he was not as unaffected by her as he put on. If so, he wouldn’t be marking his territory like one of his animals.

Parker leaned in and hugged her as he said, “I gotta go, but I’ll call you.” He kissed her cheek and turned to Cory. “Nice meeting you.”

If looks could kill, well, she’d be in trouble. Cory stabbed her with his gaze as he mumbled and huffed under his breath.

“What’s that?”

“I said, what kind of name is Parker?”

“What’s wrong with it?” If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was bothered by her closeness to Parker. But she knew such a thing to be ridiculous.

“It’s weak.” He leaned so close to her that their arms touched. Their connection sizzled.

Brook shrugged. “I like it.”

He nodded. “So you and Parker, then?”

“Me and Parker?” If he wanted information, he would need to ask her outright for it. She had no intention of making any pursuit too easy for the man.

“Hey, beer wench! Get your ass over here.” The scratchy shrill voice invaded their intimate conversation. Maybe a couple of minutes with the divas would give her the chance to think of new ways to tease Cory. He really needed someone to help him loosen up.

Brook threw a towel on the counter. “Excuse me, but duty calls.” She grabbed two pitchers with the ladies’ preferred elixir, the Penis brew.

Logan had named his brews after various organs and systems of the body. Spleen and Kidney had won awards. There were also Pancreas, Liver, Colon, and Uterus brews. As crazy as the names were, they were devised in honor of his years studying to be a doctor. He’d actually completed his pediatric residency. But he’d left medicine behind to follow his gut, which meant becoming a brewmaster. Brook understood and respected that move. He’d told her he couldn’t stand the thought of someone suing him because they thought he’d put their child at risk. He’d also mentioned something about insurance companies and the game of Russian roulette they played, but she hadn’t understood what he meant. He was the smartest person she’d ever met, but she sensed he was dealing with something, some overwhelming issue, that she didn’t know how to help him with.

When she arrived at the bridal party’s table, the maid of honor,
Julia
, started pumping her for information about her relationship status with Cory. All eyes were shifting from Brook to Julia and back again. Refusing to answer, Brook dropped off the full pitchers and reclaimed the empty ones. She returned to the sink area with Julia clacking at her heels. Brook wondered how bad the bride had to be to have deserved such a woman as her best friend.

As Brook rinsed the beer pitchers, Julia said, “Corrigan St. Martin likes to have sex with lots of women. Lots! And he doesn’t serial date either. Once he has you, he’s moving on. Case in point, we fucked just last week.”

Brook kept her eyes focused on the task of rinsing and drying the pitchers. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She knew Cory did all of those things, she just didn’t know why he did them. She couldn’t imagine him screwing this wretched woman. Didn’t most guys have a type? If Cory liked this Julia, then she couldn’t see how he could have been attracted to her since they were complete opposites in looks and personality.