Owning Corey (22 page)

“Yeah. Tell them two o’clock.”

After he hangs up, he turns and gives me a hug. “That’s awfully nice of you to invite them.” He gives me a kiss on the lips that, despite its chasteness, makes my dick twitch.

“They’re your only family. You need to get to know them better.”

And so do I.

14

A
FTER the tenseness of the scene only moments before, it’s nice to be getting along. We set about planning and making lunch, and I’m so glad Corey is getting into it, since he doesn’t seem like the cooking type.

As for me, I love cooking and make sure to keep a well-stocked kitchen most of the time. I rarely eat out, preferring instead to whip up healthy, interesting dishes at home.

“You like Mediterranean cuisine? Lighter stuff, less meat, more veggies, pasta…”

Corey smirks at me. “I know what Mediterranean is. And yes, I love it.”

“I should have known with that amazing body you’re not eating hamburgers, fries and pizza every day. No offense, just around here folks eat kind of heavy. Lots of casseroles and fried meat. And desserts.”

“And don’t forget sweet tea. It’s my new addiction. Can we make some?”

“Sure.” I pull out a white enamelware pot and fill it with water to boil.

Corey stares in fascination at the simple pot on the stove. “I figured you’d have some kind of tea machine like in the restaurants. Some big silver thing with a black nozzle and a metal plate that has
Property of Ben Hardy’s Kitchen
engraved on it.”

“This is old school, boy. Watch and learn.”

We have a great time in the kitchen. I can tell that Corey is not accustomed to cooking, at least not beyond frying eggs or making sandwiches, but he’s eager to learn and surprisingly good with a knife. When it’s almost time for our guests to arrive, we’ve arranged a gorgeous dining table with a large bowl of Greek salad, one of angel hair pasta tossed in a homemade sauce I concocted on the spot, garlic toast, and for dessert a very ripe sliced cantaloupe. Just in case his aunt and uncle are like most Southerners, who feel it isn’t a meal unless there is meat, I include a few pieces of grilled chicken breast.

The highlight of cooking is when I let Corey pour up the tea, steeping the bags for ten minutes in half a pitcher of lava hot sugar water, then filling it the rest of the way with ice. He looks so proud when he’s done, like a grade-schooler showing off his macaroni art project. “I can’t believe how easy that was. Will it taste good?”

“As good as any Southern grandmother’s, I promise. Now all you need to do is learn to quilt and make peach cobbler, and you’ll fit right in around here.”

He’s beaming with pride as he slips out to the pool house to take a shower and change into clean clothes. I do the same in my own bathroom, and we meet back in the living room fresh and damp just as the doorbell rings. Since it’s his family, I let Corey answer the door while I hang back behind him.

“Aunt Denise, Uncle Daniel… Oh my gosh…”

I peer around him to see what’s got him so surprised. His aunt is dressed in a blue Sunday dress, and his uncle is wearing a crisp, dark pair of overalls and carrying a large basket of locally made jellies and sauces. Behind them stands a skinny young man in a red ringer t-shirt, jeans, and vintage Adidas sneakers, his overly-long blond hair flopping over one eye.

Corey and the strange guy approach each other and execute what I imagine to be a secret gang handshake, bending their right knees and bumping their inner ankles together at the same time their hands clash in a sideways high five. “Allister, what a shock. What… What are you doing here?”

Denise stammers. “Um, Corey… Allister called and came by looking for you last night, and I told him you didn’t live with us, and that you had only used our address on your hospital paperwork.”

Allister interrupts with a high-pitched laugh. “Boy, you knew I wouldn’t rest until I found you. I was just headed back to your aunt’s house to beg her for your address, when I happened to pass her driving out of the neighborhood. I chased her down, and well, here I am. Surprise!”

“Yeah.” Corey looks bewildered. “Surprise!”

I step around Corey to greet our guests. “Come on in, everyone. It’s cold out, and we’ve got a nice fire going in the living room.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hardy,” Denise says, skirting Corey and following me into the house. “This is a lovely home you have, Dr. Hardy.” She twirls in the foyer, gasping as she admires the chandelier.

“Denise, please call me Ben. I’m only Dr. Hardy at work.”

She giggles, her demeanor much different than when she’s at the hospital. “This is my husband Daniel. He runs the fruit stand on Highway 440.”

“I thought I recognized you.” I say, shaking the man’s hand. “I shop there a good bit.”

“Yeah, I seen you around, Dr. Hardy… Ben. I’ll be sure to drop off some stuff to you now and again, when we get something especially good.”

“That would be fantastic, Daniel. I appreciate it.” I take their coats and hang them in the coat closet before showing them to the fire. Denise and Allister bend over it, warming their cold, red hands. Daniel sits on the sofa in what I can only describe as typical Southern working man fashion, legs sprawled, his large hands tucked under the bib of his overalls. There’s an old-world formality about the way he and his ilk carry themselves that has always intrigued me.

Corey hasn’t spoken a word, so I summon him to the kitchen to help me get wine glasses. Once we’re out of earshot, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you shy with your family here?”

“A little, I guess.” I hate to see him uptight, when he’s usually so free-spirited.

“Well, lighten up. I need to get used to entertaining if we’re going to host a New Year’s party here this year.”

His face lights up, and I’m thrilled to have caused it. “Really, Ben? That will be kick ass.”

“So let’s get some practice. If you act all sour-faced at our party, people will run screaming to their church parties to get away from the gloom.”

“Shut up.” He nudges my arm playfully. “Alright, let’s serve these people some wine.”

Conversation is pleasant enough around the fire. Corey’s crowd clearly isn’t used to drinking wine from wine glasses. I feel like they’re trying to put on airs, sticking their pinkies out and what-not. I’ve never seen Denise’s posture so ram-rod straight. It’s almost funny, but then I guess I’m putting on airs a bit myself. I don’t know why I feel the need to impress everyone here.

Corey’s friend Allister has some qualities that my inexperience wants to attribute to gang activity, but I’m probably just being ignorant. I’ve been pretty sheltered here in Blackwood. Most of the wild city problems never touch us here, though we do have our own eccentricities and vices, just of a different kind. Instead of liquor store robberies, drive-by shootings and raves, we have domestic disturbances, hunting accidents, and bonfire keggers on someone’s back forty.

“So, what kind of trouble you been getting into, Corey?” Allister’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, but Corey doesn’t smile back.

“I haven’t been in any trouble in a long time, Allis. I’m an EMT now, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m just messing with you, man. Still, nurses are allowed to have fun, too. Why don’t you come out to my hotel room tonight and I’ll remind you what it feels like.”

Okay, there’s a very definite undercurrent that I don’t like between Allister and Corey, and it’s got my sixth sense standing on its head.

“I might. What hotel are you in?”

He’s actually considering going to this guy’s hotel room?

“Why don’t you stay here?” I hear myself saying
.
“No sense paying for a lousy hotel when I have a nice pool house out back that no one is using.”

My words travel out into the room, and it’s as if I can see them floating there all ugly and destructive, and I want to call them back, but it’s too late. Ever since I met Corey, I’ve been dropping about twenty IQ points a day, I think. By the time he’s done with me, I’ll be the village idiot.

And gay.

Denise frowns, a crease forming between her thick brows, and she looks from me to Corey and back to me. “Corey, I thought you said you were renting Dr. Hardy’s pool house.”

Allister’s face splits into an evil grin, and he stomps his feet on the hearth in a short fit of silent laughter. He doesn’t say anything, but he fixes me with a shrewd look that says he knows exactly what’s going on here.

I feel my face color, and the only way I can try to salvage the situation is by lying. “Oh crap, I forgot. Silly me. I’m just not used to having a tenant.” I face-palm and address Allister, though it chafes my ass to have to do it. “Allister, the pool house is taken, but you’re welcome to stay in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“I’d absolutely love to, Ben,” he says, and his eyes glitter with mischief. “I won’t be able to get back until around eleven tonight, though. Is that okay? I met some people I’m supposed to have drinks with up the road at someplace called the County Line.”

I don’t dare make eye contact with Corey. I wonder what he thinks of all of this, and why the hell he had to consider meeting Allister in his hotel room. If he’d just said no, none of this would be happening.

“Let’s eat,” Corey says loudly, waving us all toward the dining room. They all go in front of us, and he and I bring up the rear. He leans in close to my ear. “Good save.” He runs a hand quickly down my back and grabs my ass before anyone is the wiser.

Lunch is a success, and the conversation is thankfully less dramatic than it was in the living room. There are no more slip-ups, and Allister behaves for the rest of the visit.

As she leaves, Denise turns and gives Corey a quick peck on the cheek. “Oh, honey, I almost forgot. Daniel and I are leaving for Ruby Falls tomorrow. We’re spending our twentieth anniversary in the same place we spent our honeymoon.”

“How romantic,” Corey says with a smile. “You guys have fun.”

“We will, but you’re going to have to work with a sub all four nights this week.”

“Who is it?”

“Not sure. The crew is short-handed with Amanda out on maternity leave, so they’re sending over one of the first responders from the fire department. Hopefully he won’t be as big of an asshole as most of them are. There’s like a rivalry between the EMS and the fire department, which never made sense to me. We’re all out there trying to save lives. Anyway, just giving you a heads up. Good luck.”

Corey hugs her goodbye. “Enjoy your trip. Keep your fingers crossed for no codes.”

“Yes. No codes,” I agree.

“Bye,” Denise calls over her shoulder as her husband drags her down the steps. Before turning around, she casts a worried glance in Allister’s direction, which really sets me on edge. What is the deal with this guy?

When their car has disappeared around the corner, we all quit waving like idiots and go back into the house.

“Whew,” Allister squeals, running a hand across his forehead in exaggerated relief. “Corey, honey, I thought your folks would never leave. Another half hour of acting straight, and I would have actually
turned
straight. Do you have a beer, or something with a kick besides wine?”

“In the fridge. Come on.” He looks apologetically at me before getting a beer for his now very overtly gay friend.

“Corey, why have you not come out to those nice people? They won’t care.”

“Not really your business, Allis.”

“Ha. I know everything about you, boy. Including the fact that you’ve got a very hot doctor on the chain.” He appraises me from top to bottom and smiles evilly with half his mouth. “Are you sharing?”

“No,” he roars, and the anger in his eyes is apparent. “Ben has been nice enough to offer you a place to stay, but if you don’t shut the hell up, I’ll kick you out myself.”

Allister looks at me. “Does he have that kind of authority in your house, Ben?”

“Most definitely.”

“Good. That means you’re taking care of my boy.” He taps Corey playfully on the butt and twirls away toward the foyer, and it’s all I can do to keep from tossing him out on his bony haunches. He’s Corey’s friend, but I know I’ve made a mistake inviting him to stay.

“Mind if I get a look at that pool house?” he asks, and I shoo him away, glad for the privacy.

“Might not be a good idea to let him roam unattended.” Corey moves to follow him, but I stay him with a hand on his elbow.

“He’ll be fine.” The truth is, I don’t want Corey to be alone with him, especially in the pool house.

“He might steal something, Ben. For real.”

“Let him.” I’m not backing down on this. “Have you slept with him?”

Corey is clearly taken aback by my question. “No. Hell, no. He’s a friend, and a shaky one at best. I’m telling you, he can’t be trusted. Why did you invite him to stay here?”

“He’s your friend. I was trying to be nice.” I shove my hands in my pockets and look away. “And you were going to go to his hotel room.”

Corey laughs quietly, hooks his fingers in my belt loops, and pulls me up against him. “Now who’s jealous?”

My hands are trapped in my pockets between us, and he’s got me firmly anchored by my belt loops, so there’s no way I can push away when he covers my mouth with his. He moans against me, and I open my mouth to him, reluctantly at first. The feel of his hard body against mine coupled with my helplessness incites a hunger within me, and I show him in the only way I can at the moment— with my mouth. I stand on my tiptoes and lean aggressively into his kiss, nipping and sucking at his lips, knocking him off kilter with my weight and making him stagger before gaining his footing again. He laughs against my mouth.