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
“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
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